I’m Over All That (9 page)

My question is: why didn’t someone suggest a CT scan five
years before? The doctors assumed my problem was allergies, and they said I must be allergic to my dog. They were right about allergies, but not about Terry, yet they just kept giving me antibiotics instead of treating the actual allergies.

After my surgery, my homeopath intervened and gave me a homeopathic regimen. I drained for one entire month, and that was the end of my allergies. The main remedy was allium cepa, which I would recommend for allergies. I religiously keep my homeopathic remedies with me, and now I am fine.

Homeopathic medicines work because everything in the world has a frequency at which it gives off energy—you can actually measure it. The homeopath produces a medicine that vibrates at the same frequency as the thing you are allergic to, which cancels it out and results in remarkable healing. They work particularly well for me, I think, because I am sensitive to the frequencies which obey the law of similars. Some skeptics will say it’s all in my head, a “placebo effect,” but I promise you that homeopathy works better for me than any pharmaceuticals. And certainly better than surgeons who are proud they have celebrity clientele. As far as I’ve seen, celebrities get the worst treatment there is from the medical profession.

I
have found a cure for asthma. It’s called the ButeyKo Technique, which is a set of breathing techniques. This is how it works:

Step I: The “Control Pause” Breathing Test

Take two normal breaths, then breathe out, and then see how long you can hold your breath. The goal is to be able to hold it for at least
60
seconds.

Step II: Shallow Breathing

Take shallow breaths using only your nose for five minutes. Keep your mouth shut. Then take the “control pause” test again to see if your count has improved. Hint: If your nose is blocked up, pinch your nostrils together for a few minutes. This helps clear the nasal passages.

Step III: Putting It Together

Repeat the “test-breathe-test” routine four or five times in a row. It will take about
25
minutes in total. Repeat this training session three or four times a day for a week. Don’t worry if you miss a session or two, just carry on. The goal is increasing your “control pause” test result.

There it is. It’s that simple. After a week you should be able to breathe out and hold your breath for a count of over
60
seconds. Your asthma will be much better. It also helps prevent heart attacks because you are controlling the amount of carbon dioxide in your system.

I
am not good at “smalk.” That’s small talk. I try to maintain my patience, but it abandons me completely and I try not to tell the smalker what I’m thinking. I try to walk away, but if I can’t, I stand and listen for an inordinate amount of time, blinking and nodding. They go on and on, and I nod and blink on and on in return. The trick is to never speak or answer them or acknowledge what they are saying in any way. Finally, if they won’t stop talking, I go into a trance and meditate. At least that way I don’t hurt their feelings and can practice patience on another planet.

I don’t know why so many people have gone rusty on thinking. Perhaps it was the dumbing-down of the W years. Or perhaps too many people are living most of their days on their computers and thus have the mind-set that the computer thinks for them. To have a thought-provoking conversation
with someone is more difficult than pushing a square peg into a round hole . . . or hanging soap bubbles on a clothesline. There is no focus and no real curiosity in too many people. Yes, I’m over being a chatterer or the one being chattered at.

I
’m over trusting the FDA if they ban the sale and manufacture of injectable vitamin C containing injectable magnesium chloride and injectable vitamin B-complex
100
.
These two substances are routinely added to intravenous C to make the “Meyers Cocktail” used for conditions such as chronic fatigue syndrome, hepatitis, AIDS, mononucleosis, and flu.

Why is the FDA doing this? Because vitamin C and magnesium and vitamin B complex can’t be patented and therefore won’t be taken through the standard FDA approval process. The approval process would have to be funded privately, which could cost billions. We need to have a choice of treatment that is not ruled by Big Pharma.

I
t’s good to have some modicum of self-awareness when one is faced with the reality of ageing in Hollywood. At least it makes it less lonely because you become more and more acquainted with your real longtime companion—yourself.

So often I’ve wondered how I would define my identity if I weren’t a so-called icon, a Hollywood star of yesteryear (and sometimes now), a person whose image has been watched and whose words have been read by a shockingly great number of people. Take away all that, and who am I?

I’ve seriously thought about this, and finally I realized that no actress ever really leaves Hollywood unless she finds God and gives up everything else. I’ve come close, but no cigar. Hollywood stars really are our American version of royalty, I suppose. Hollywood changes your DNA. You believe your own publicity. You are catered to in every possible way. You become publicly insecure because you want the public to love
you, yet most of the time a successful star doesn’t feel he or she deserves that adoration. Success is not a panacea for needing to be loved. In so many ways, it is a surefire way to avoid the issue of self-love. Do we deserve love from others when we don’t even love ourselves?

The money, the adoration, the power over others—it’s all ridiculous. The abuse of artistic freedom is scandalous. The unreal fantasy of it all renders you borderline schizophrenic. And when you get older and the phone stops ringing and you essentially are respected simply for having survived your long haul; when you are happy to do character parts as an extra added attraction in otherwise lackluster films, then you look back over the well-produced phantasmagoria of it all and ask yourself, “Did I behave reasonably well? Did I abuse my power? Did I keep many people waiting? Did I do it for money, for love, for my own personal growth, and to express my own identity?”

My
answer to these questions would be: I couldn’t
not
live a life of self-expression. That’s probably due to the repression of my middle-class childhood, which ignited in me the need to become different from those other folks down the block. Also, on some level, I knew I was fulfilling the thwarted dreams of both my parents. So does it all come down to family in the final analysis? Do we want to avoid living in the self-denying world that squelched our parents’ dreams?

The real artists in Hollywoodland dare to explore their fathomless pasts in order to keep looking for who they are.
Their frustration, neuroses, and bad behavior are linked directly to deep, deep insecurities, and if they can miraculously touch on a childhood terror that up to now they’ve conveniently covered up, they more than likely will produce a small or monumental masterpiece of art.

Being involved in other people’s lives is exhausting when you’re in the twilight throes of figuring out your own life. I want to be as clear as I can about my own past and what I want for my future life. I would love to continue to act. It is fun for me and I still love to explore the eccentricity of human beings. I like the familial environment on a film set. I do not like getting up so early in order to shoot by the light of the sun, and I hate the traffic in LA. But I really enjoy the makeup trailer, where all the gossip and inner workings of the film you’re shooting are shared and dissected. I enjoy the craft service table, laden with donuts, snacks, and all manner of treats that soothe your insecurities between takes.

I don’t, and probably never did, feel all that insecure about anything much. I don’t know why not. I’ve not been good in some movies, but I was satisfied with knowing I had worked hard. As my agent said once, “If what you’ve done doesn’t work, not that many people will see it anyway.”

An actor’s relationship with his or her agent is a primary one. There are many jokes made about not being able to get your agent on the phone, or about how you go out and get a job for yourself and your agent collects
10
percent. I admit if I have trouble reaching someone on the phone, it is a real problem.

But that goes for anybody who doesn’t call me back right away.

I don’t do email. I refuse. I want to hear the tenor of the voice and the spaces in between the words of the person I’m talking to. If I did email, I’d be living in a computer world. I like
real
world contact.

How agents with a big roster of clients keep all the projects and castings correct is beyond me. It’s a particular talent for compartmentalization, something akin to what a really good worker behind the counter at Starbucks has. Each of the agent’s clients feels he or she is the only one. We expect the agent to remember each and every detail of our careers as though they’d stewed over these elements like we do. We know the agents play the clients off against each other. We know they’d like each project to be a package deal where only the agency’s clients are involved. Even though show business is really the “Big Knife,” most of our business is run on the strength of personal relationships. People remember each other, for good and for ill. That’s one reason no one ever really wants to tell you the truth. It will come back to haunt you either in revenge, or in future profit and thanks. I have an agent who tells me the truth. Jack Gilardi is personally interested in my continuing to work, which isn’t easy when you are looking for material for a woman my age. We talk every day even if it’s just about things happening out in the world. Jack loves to tease me. He stands about five feet six inches, but he tells everyone he used to be six foot five before working with
me. Sometime when we are discussing possible future parts for me, he calls them “roles for old ladies.” He catches himself and rephrases, saying they are looking for “women with maturity.” I believe he deals with me in truth, just as I do with him. But that’s not typical in Hollywood. Come to think of it, he’s my fourth Jack!

This lack of truth telling has been difficult for me in my twilight years. I see no reason not to tell the truth. It will all become evident at some time later anyway. Truth telling is somehow politically incorrect. Maybe it’s because there’s less time left for me in this life, but I’m innately compelled to tell someone if they are full of crap and not waste any more time about it. Time is ticking away. And
timing
is everything.

I feel that I will go on to make many more films. A friend tells me I’m going for the record of old-age working. How peaceful it is not to have to look particularly pretty anymore or to wear a size
6
.
I am concerned about my weight, but more because of cholesterol and insulin problems than vanity. As long as there is a good Pro-mist filter on the camera and a few chimera lights around, I know I’ll be all right. I’m glad the union requires the studio to provide a driver for actors when we’re working, because in the morning I’m no good at it, and it’s dangerous for me to drive at night now.

I like watching the parade of new stars. I place bets with friends as to how long each will be around. (Not nice of us, I know.) So much of longevity has nothing to do with looks or talent. It’s something indefinable—like star power. How do
you define that? You know it when you see it. I never thought much about how long I would last. I’m like an animal in that respect. I live in the moment. However, one of my problems in life is that I’m ten years ahead of the curve on matters of spiritual science and self-exploration. In social settings, I continually have to work to keep my conversation simple and my investigations a personal matter.

People identify with other people; they don’t identify with subjects and information unless it relates to them. I have learned this through the publication of my various books. In the beginning of my spiritual questing and wanderings, people identified with me much more than they did after I’d found some answers. When I got specific and began to share the underpinnings of spiritual science (the energy of the chakras, vibrational frequency of healing techniques, principles of karma and reincarnation, and the facts about extraterrestrial presence), it got to be too dense for a lot of people. If I stayed with my own journey as a human being trying to figure out who I was, they could identify. Being an entertainer didn’t help. I remember once a journalist from San Francisco said, “How can we take your spiritual teachings seriously when you wear sequins on the stage?” It took me aback. (Aback so far I still haven’t recovered!) What does my wardrobe have to do with it?

Then I thought about it. When you’re an actor, a performer, or anybody who knows how to make fiction seem real, you are suspect. When I asked that journalist if he thought I should
wear a monk’s robe and make myself ugly in order to be taken more seriously in spiritual matters, he nodded yes. I know that says more about him than me, but there is a “knowing” comment in there somewhere. It’s got to do with my favorite subject—
reality.
What is it? How do we know if something or someone or some event is real or not? Since reality itself is a matter of perception, how can anyone define one view of reality as a consensus for all? So I’m back to the journey of my own perceptions. How
I
see something is how that thing is authentic to
me.