Many Lives (16 page)

When I let go of my ego, I let go of the outcome. If I've already made up my mind about what I want the outcome to be, I've already limited the possibilities.

I like this little Zen story:

A farmer's son was riding his horse when he fell off and broke his leg. His father said, ‘This is a tragedy; my son's an invalid.' The Zen monk said, ‘We'll see.' Later all the young men were called up to fight in the war. The boy couldn't go because he'd broken his leg. The father said, ‘This is terrible; my son can't join the young men and fight for his country.' ‘We'll see,' said the Zen monk. None of the young men came home.

When I was wallowing in self-pity, thinking the life I'd known had come to an end, I was getting in my own way. As soon as I let go and let God, my life began to change.

I'll eat a blueberry muffin if I really want to, but the chances are I'll start the day with protein because it'll give me a longer supply of fuel. I'm a coffee addict. A Japanese healer told me, ‘One cup is medicine, two is poison.' If I can only have one cup I make sure it's the best so I can really enjoy it. And if I have more than one, I'm aware that I'm poisoning myself.

I walk somewhere pretty, jog somewhere pleasant. I make it a spiritual experience. It doesn't have to be in hills, woods or by the sea. There is always the park or the pavement.

Separate your woes into different piles. It makes them so much easier to cope with. Twenty problems piled on top of each other are impossible to deal with.

I was rushing back to England to say goodbye to my mother. I was going to her funeral and memorial service. I had a complete meltdown over packing my suitcase. I was crying and making the whole situation more awful than it already was. I just couldn't do it. And then, like in
Who Wants to Be a Millionaire
, I thought, ‘Phone a friend!' I called Philip and Steve, two of my best friends. They live in Houston now but were still living in Los Angeles then. Philip's a minister but when I met him he was a film producer. We laughed from the second we met. Steve is one of the cleverest people I know. They both make me roar with laughter. They used to be Catholic but now they're Presbyterians. They're also on a spiritual search, and they're great searching companions. They're a fabulous couple and we've seen each other through a lot. I phoned them and told them what was happening. They came round, we talked it through and, before I knew it, my suitcase was packed. Death is hard to face alone.

You are allowed to ask for help, but be specific. We shouldn't make the whole of ourselves somebody else's responsibility, but it is OK to phone a friend with a particular problem. It's a totally legitimate thing to do. Taking responsibility doesn't mean being an island.

Marlon Brando was very keen on mouthwash. ‘Even though the script might say two people are attracted to each other, you can't force it in real life but the least you can do is make yourself presentable,' he said once.
The
method actor of all time still had the consideration to know that mouthwash is a good idea if you're in close contact with other actors.

Playing is an attitude. I play when I'm cooking, which makes my meals pretty hit or miss. Children play when they're having a bath. Daydreaming is playing. Painting, sewing, writing, mending: endless playing. Do the things the world considers to be important, but make sure you feed your soul by playing. Release yourself from all standards: they hold us back. Most of them have been inflicted on us and they stop us from playing. I love to paint. If you saw my paintings you might well think I've no talent for it. But that's not the point. It's a question of just doing it and playing with my imagination.

I feel I've got two bank accounts: one for money and one for spirit. My spiritual bank account has to be full; otherwise my light turns off, like Tinkerbell. Most of the theatre jobs I've done can't be justified by the money they paid. Why would I do them? I do some jobs to fill my spiritual bank account, nourish my spirit and feed me creatively. Others pay the bills. Sometimes it's possible to fill both at the same time, and usually every job has its moments. Those moments of joy when you're working hard are a real gift. Joy isn't something you can demand or expect. It's a gift.

I remember sitting in the kitchen of our house in West Hampstead. The children were in bed. It was winter and cold. I was faced with a pile of bills and two scripts for two jobs I was being offered. One was for a play that I really wanted to do, and one was for a film that I really wasn't interested in. At that point in my life I didn't have the luxury to choose. The bills needed to be paid. The film was a low-budget sci-fi horror called
Inseminoid
. It might have been a bad film, but it kept food on our table and was actually a lot of fun to do. Judy Geeson and I laughed and played our way through the whole production. It was at a time in my life when I badly needed to laugh and play again. Taking on that job was absolutely the right choice.

I hear people talk disapprovingly about the Lottery. If one pound can stimulate that amount of imagining, let everybody put their pound in on a Saturday night and dream about how much munificence they'd bring to the planet. I believe in the Lottery if only for the dreaming. It's not even the dream of money; it's the dream of what you could do. That's playing.

My friend Bitten Knudsen was one of my greatest playing partners. Her laugh will stay with me for ever. She was so beautiful – blonde perfection itself. Among other things, she modelled for
Vogue
and all the big fashion magazines. We were both Pisces and we both needed the ocean. We called ourselves the sea slugs. Bitten also needed the city; she'd take off for New York so she could hit hard pavement. We once went to a Matisse exhibition then afterwards spent days and days painting in the Matisse style. Bitten was completely wild, and fearless. I've always enjoyed my fearless friends; you can play so hard with them. Bitten took playing a bit too far, though, and died far too young.

I also play spiritually; and why not? I did some soul retrieval work with a shaman. There's nothing kooky about shamanism. It's probably the oldest form of medicine and healing on the planet, and has been part of human activity, in one form or other, on every continent – it still is. I visited a lady called Amanda, up in a leafy part of Topanga Canyon, who uses shamanism as a tool for healing, guidance and personal development. If you've had an enormous trauma, part of your soul goes to live somewhere else. Soul-retrieval involves finding where that is and getting it back. I don't quite know why my ex-husband should have taken my feet, but that's what seemed to have happened. Maybe he had,
because he always used to tease me about the way my toes turned in. I tend to stand with my feet in a turned out position, but my toes naturally turn in. He'd taken my feet; my joyful dancing feet. I got them back in such a vivid way. How could it be that I was on the back of a panther, leaping across rivers and up trees; where did that come from?

It's a bit like when you're dreaming and you wake up and think, ‘Oh dear, being awake doesn't feel nearly as real as that did.' I was entranced by the experience; I was in trance. It was very powerful.

Shamanic journeying was another thing I did with Amanda. That also involved going into a trance, then going on an image-streaming journey into the Earth. It started no more strangely than a doctor's appointment. Amanda asked me to lie down on a blanket on the floor and close my eyes. A drum began a very steady beat, and then Amanda told me I had to enter the Earth and go to the lower world where I would meet my spirit guides. ‘How do I get into the Earth?' I asked. ‘Think of a place where you can see the ground open,' she replied. ‘Can I make myself tiny?' ‘Yes,' I was told. I thought of the little stream that came out of the ground, near the old house on Dartmoor. I imagined myself as really tiny and slipped into the Earth alongside the stream. It was all taking place as visualization but was becoming completely real. I saw a little animal trotting along. It turned to face me, but continued to trot, and began to lead the way. It was a fox. Ever since, the fox has been a very important animal for me – one of my animal spirit guides.

This little foxy darling led me from one adventure to another until, finally, we went up a hill where a Native American was
sorting 12 charred sticks from a small fire. He turned to me. ‘Just because you have facility, doesn't mean you can be facile,' he said. I was jolted out of my trance and that was the end of the journey.

I've also been to a sweat lodge. That didn't really do it for me. I thought it was probably one of the most disgusting, smelly things I've ever done. I couldn't understand why you'd want to use steaming hot stones when you can just go into a perfectly nice electrically-heated sauna and do the same thing. It was a bit too old fashioned. I know it's different and there's chanting, but I didn't get it. I was simply faint with the heat. I did get to be in another space, but it was called dehydration. Spiritual bungee jumping – without a doubt.

Sometimes I find myself feeling discontented; I forget that, really, I have more than enough. I really don't need any more. Sometimes I get caught in the thought that I live in a universe that's limited by scarcity. Then I notice there's little gratitude for what I
do
have. Whenever I notice that I'm feeling envious or insecure, I try to think about what I have that I am grateful for. It's the most practical thing I can do and it stops me from looking sideways. When I'm doing that, I'm looking at people as competition. There's only one person I have to deal with, really, and that's myself. If I find myself feeling envious, I really give myself a good talking to. Be pleased for other people's achievements – they're proof it can be done.

If you can't change the circumstances, change your attitude.

Procrastination is the enemy of free time. Do what needs to be done now. I often think I'll get round to whatever it is eventually, but at the moment I don't have the time. The fact is, I don't want to do it. We'll do anything to avoid doing things that are painful, but if they're going to come around anyway, it's best to do them before they become more painful, like paying that parking ticket.

I used to put off paying parking tickets until they'd gone beyond the fine and passed through the court. I got to know the bailiff so
well we were on first-name terms. ‘Hello, is that Stephanie again?' the receptionist used to say whenever I called their office.

I used to use smoking as a tool for procrastination. I'd put off doing things until I'd had a cigarette. I smoked for many years until I saw a friend at a dinner party. She looked so good, I asked her what she'd done. She'd given up smoking. I gave up smoking on the day George W. Bush was re-elected. I couldn't do anything about the world, but I could change myself. I haven't smoked since.

When I was young and going out I kept a £5 note sewn into the lining of my jacket – just in case. Today it would probably need to be a £50 note. I didn't know if I was going to find myself in a sticky situation. That £5 note would have got me out of it: away from the rough crowd. It could have got me a train or a taxi. I wouldn't have to get into a stranger's car in order to get a lift home. It was my emergency money. The clubs in Soho in the early Sixties had the best music, but it was a part of London from which you needed to be ready to make a quick getaway.

It's the practicalities in life I like to remember. I know the lines for the audition, but do I know where the audition is being held? Do I know what time I have to be there, and have I ironed my skirt?