I first met Michael when he was 13 and starting at John Curtin College of the Arts; I was assigned as his academic tutor, to support him on his school work. I first met the wonderful Nel at the same time. I’ll be forever grateful to the universe for the unexpected gift of allowing me to get to know Michael. We spent several memorable years working together weekly after school on a wide range of assignments, with me trying to keep Michael slightly on track as his quick, curious and uniquely-creative mind leapt in all directions from the initial task – each idea more thought-provoking than the last. I often set the assignment aside and just listened to Michael express his thoughts about the topic (and its spin-offs) – rarely have I met someone whose way with words was so articulate, compelling and delightful.
Michael also taught me so much about different ways of learning and communicating. I will remember always the moment I realised Michael needed to MOVE, in order to learn, gather his ideas and express them. We were sitting at the dining table, attempting to write an essay, but Michael kept leaping up and moving around the room. He was telling me what he wanted to write, but he couldn’t sit still to type it – not for a minute. Watching him move, his energy, I suddenly understood. I asked him if he’d like me to do the typing, while he told me what to say. He immediately began narrating his essay, while pacing and turning and literally dancing in the room. As he talked he would stretch out his arms, bend into an arabesque, or lift and turn in a pirouette. He never seemed aware of this; it was as natural and unconscious for him as breathing. For me, it was wonderous. And such a lesson, about the different needs of people when it comes to learning. From then on, our study sessions for me became front-row seats in a dance performance, with witty and fascinating commentary. For Michael, it was just who he was.
These memories make me cry. Michael you were dazzling. I’m so glad we stayed working together through your Diploma (did any student ever match your wayward ways and charm?), so glad we stayed in touch over time, so proud for you when you reached all those heights, took such deep breaths though the lows. I loved your capacity to care for, connect with, inspire and entrance people; that you’d just randomly decide to call, and we’d talk for an hour, and I’d come away feeling that I’d never had a conversation quite like that one.
Your heart, mind and spirit were so big, your smile so enthusiastic and infectious, your magic so bright. You loved your family and friends deeply, and you were loved beyond what a written word can tell (maybe an arabesque says it better). You lived a hundred lifetimes in one passionate life, and you have left such a mark on everyone who loved you. Thank you for that.
