I know I have bad eyesight, but I searched through pictures of female movie stars, looking for someone who I thought could play 'Lizzy' in my novel, American Boys, not because it is becoming a movie, but because I thought I needed a compass to describe her, if anyone wanted to know how she looked, beyond their imagination. She is totally not the main character, by any stretch of the imagination. I could not, however, find anyone, who in anyway reminded me of her, when I looked at actress pictures, except, for a moment I had to take a second glance at Drew Barrymore, but recalling Drew's looks in the movies, they did not exactly match the picture, and I know as lovely as she is, she is not the right one to portray 'Lizzy.' Look, I know I am not making a movie, not now anyway.
However, I feel there was something to the way Drew Barrymore looked in that particular picture, that drew me in. I guess they all looked too glamorous, and although my Lizzy is very beautiful, in a very natural, 'outward bound,' earthy, blond type of way, she is not glamorous, at all, in a maybeline kind of way, but nor is she plain. Well, I take that back. She is a little plain sometimes, and maybe even, as Alan would have said, "mousy,"
some of the time, but you know what I mean. She is only plain, because she is tired and overworked, that is all.
I like Drew Barrymore. She is cool, and really pretty, and so are they all. I just can't find anyone with the right amount of prettiness, and the right amount of plainness, if that makes sense at all.
I guess I realized when I wrote about taking my older son to college, for the first time, that Lizzy was more like me, than I was admitting, and the whole book was more autobiographical than I wanted to admit, although I really made things easier in the book, and in some ways the book is completely different.
So, if you think, "why would she think her life way anything special?," well I don't. My ego has been beaten down to pulp, it really has, so do not get the wrong idea. I have experienced character assassination, galore, and not from Meher Baba followers, that I know of, so thanks for that if you are one, but there is a whole 'nother world,' as Michael Jackson would say, out there, and it is not always nice, in my opinion.
I did see an actress, a television actress, on Law and Order, on the Special Victims Unit series, who was one of the cops, but not a regular, who did remind me of Lizzy, but I cannot remember even the character's name.
She played a cop, from the south, which is all I can remember, and not Star, the FBI agent, going under cover, to infiltrate a white supremacy group, but a different actress.
Well, so much for my book, for now, and I am sure you probably know what I mean, more than I know.
For the year 2003, I got financial aid for my older son, Theodore, to go to college. We applied to Lander University, my alma mater, and on registration day, I called the business office, to be told, he was accepted, and to come on now, because the Spring semester was commencing.
I woke him up, dread locks and all, and told him to get ready, we had a five hour ride to Greenwood, South Carolina. We have friends there, a professor I knew from my own college days, and his lovely family, who follow Meher Baba.
We had stayed with them before, just on a visit, so it was no problem. I was ten years younger then. My son was twenty, and now he is thirty. I could still drive during the day, and I knew my way to Greenwood very well, because I had driven back and forth again and again, when I was a student there, long ago.
At the time, I had a dark green Honda Accord, a pretty nice vehicle, we got used, but it was newish and very reliable.
We got to Greenwood around night fall, and Dr. Phillips came to meet us out in the middle of no where. They lived kind of in the country.
I was a single mother, and I had a son in the ninth grade as well, who my mother was looking after, because he had to go to school. So, I had two dependents basically.
We got up early. As usual, the Phillips were really good to us, fed us, have a comfortable home, and are really nice people.
We followed Dr. Phillips to the campus, and got registered. He got Dr. Phillips for English 101, which was nice, and he even was able to stay with them once, because he was far from home there.
He did not decide a major. We just signed up for the usual Freshman courses. We went to the student center for lunch, the same one I used to eat at. We went to the book store and bought his text books, part of the financial aid.
We went to his dormitory, Brookside. When I had been there, that had been the fancy dorm, but now it was run down, and the not so fancy, least expensive dorm, for boys anyway. They had bulldozed some of the ones there that I had lived in. Mostly, I had lived in Chipley Hall.
He had a loft in there. It was one room for two boys, but there was a latter, which led to a bed, which was his, since the other was taken.
After that, we went to his first class of the day, Art, or life drawing, which had been one of my favorite. He had the same art professor I had had, and that I had traveled on a study, group tour with, to Mexico in '81, the end of my three years at Lander, before I went to CCU, Mr. McTaggart. I introduced them. After he was settled in his class, I went to see Dr. Cleland.
This was my final stop, before going home to my other boy. Dr. Cleland had also chaperoned the Mexico trip, and he had actually been my professor of Mexican History, for which I got credit for on the trip, listening to his lectures as we went to see pyramids and such. We had gone to Mexico City, Guanajato, the state where I was born, had traveled to the Yucatan, Merida, the Mayan pyramids, and back to Mexico City. Also, we had gone to San Migel de Allende, where there was a beautiful art institute there in the mountains. I had stayed with Dr. Cleland's family before that trip, and he was really nice. It was good to see him again after so many years, and I had taken Freshman Seminar with him as well.
Ted decided not to go back after one semester. I guess college is not for everyone, and no one can be faulted for that, but I am glad he went to my alma mater, and proud that he got in.
Well, after seeing Dr. Cleland, it was on the road again back home. And, my son was left to get the college experience, at least for a while.
As we all know, the indigenous people of our country got a really unfair deal. Under Andrew Jackson, with the 'Indian Removal Act,' and the Trail of Tears, as a result, Native Americans having to leave North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Georgia, leading those who survived the perilous journey, to Oklahoma and Arkansas, mountains.
This was mainly the Cherokees. Many people in the United States claim to have Cherokee heritage. I am certain that many do, but I think many people say they have Native American blood, who really don't, because it seems cool. The point is that here in the states, people want to be Indian, and have a certain respect now for the indigenous people of our country.
In Mexico and South America, and probably Central America, Latin America in general, people tend to be racist towards the Aztecs, Mayans, the indigenous people, even though most people have some Indian or indigenous heritage. For some reason, many would rather identify with the Spanish heritage, which was brought by Cortez, even though the Spanish also brought the inquisition, along with its torture, even if in the name of Catholicism and Christianity.
I know that some Latin Americans are proud of their Indian culture, and have ties to Aztec royalty, and Mayan I am sure, but many want no part of identifying with the indigenous people. This is racism, no matter how you look at it, and makes no sense.
I guess, that if I were to deeply research the culture of South America, such as Peru, Chile, Ecuador, I would find facts that I am not aware of, in more detail, about this.
In Canada, part of North America, the French intermarried with the Native Americans, such as the Mahicans, and are also, like people in the U.S., proud of this heritage, and of course not just the French, but other nationalities. In contrast, it seems that Latin Americans want no part of their native culture and heritage, and are often racist towards their more pure Indian peers, such as Mayans and Aztecs.
Racism is unfortunate, and truthfully a problem in The States, as well. For instance, one in three black men, will end up in prison. Why? One in six Hispanic men, will end up in prison, and one in every sixteen white men.
Ironically, in Australia, a penal colony originally, and I don't find white Australians to be the nicest people in the world, in my own experience, but I understand that a great number of indigenous people, the aborigines, often end up in prison, and are the recipients of racism.
I guess I do not understand this consciousness, so why is this? Is it poverty, lack of opportunity? I think that The United States is on the right track, in terms of its consciousness, but there is so much emphasis, in different cultures, about skin color, which means nothing. I think the racism leads to contempt, which leads to discrimination, which leads to poverty, which might be what could lead to crime.
I would like to see this change, that The Americas all become more color blind, and that South Americans, Central Americans, and Mexicans, especially, would change this thought system.
In 1996, I went to India for the last time. It was not a good decision in retrospect. In a thirty-three year history, forty-eight now, of being with Baba, from a Baba family, and having been twice as a child and once as an adult already, ten years prior, it was the fourth in four decades and the last.
You probably wonder why I say, it was a bad decision. Well, the ticket was really cheap, and then I guess I could afford it, but I was working at a health food store, and had to ask for time off, but I also had my children staying with their dad in Colorado. Some people think it is good for women who are separated or divorced to take a time period, when they let the father take the kids, but I have always felt guilty about that period of time.
I feel like I went to India for the wrong reasons, and I knew it. I was chasing a guy, I had already had a two year relationship, living together, with. But, in some ways, perhaps, the wrong reasons lead you to the right place at times.
I arrived in Bombay, on my own, at the age of thirty-five, wearing a long Indian skirt I had purchased in London, on another crazy escapade to see the same guy, the summer before, and a black t-shirt, green silk scarf, and a Baba button.
It was pouring rain, and I had had two Johnny Walkers on the plane. When I got outside, a man held a sign with my name in large print. He came with an umbrella and led me to the car.
I stayed up in the lobby of the Leela hotel all night, and talked to the waiters or they talked to me. I had another drink as soon as I got there, a martini, a ten dollar one, crazy.
We left for Amednagar very early, and I slept on the back seat, getting up to take pictures of the monkeys in the mountains, on the side of the highway.
I guess it was noon, by the time we got there. I sang at the tomb that night, the samadhi, they call it. There are two artis a day there. I usually did not make it to the early one, unless, I had garlands to bring, which I bought on the side of the road when we went to the trust office on the bus.
My father had given me money to do this, money for this purpose. His writing is published in The Glow if you google Lyn Ott excerpts, Glow Magazine, and you will find a whole very well done website on him, with pictures, etc.. However, I am not him, but me. He was a very devout Baba follower, and I do not know what I am, in terms of Baba, or God for that matter.
My parents' murals decorated the old pilgrim center, where I stayed. You could only see the mandali on Tuesdays. Mani had recently passed away, but Eruch, Gohair and Meheru were still there. Also, Arnavas, who I spent much time with. Dr. Gohair gave me some possessions of both Mani and Mehera, earrings, a picture and a handkerchief. The latter two were Mehera's, but she had given me gifts, which belonged to her, and Baba trinkets as well, when she was alive, also letters and a letter to my estranged husband, in '86, her idea, not mine. I suppose another son came about, due to that, but it is a whole other story.
It is hard for me to finish writing this, because I have some regrets, and I wish I had been making different decisions, and I feel like I did not really feel Baba on that trip. I think romantic involvements can be kind of stupid. I mean if you find the right person, and they are nice and you stay together, then that is wonderful. But, sometimes I think I would have been much better with no one, than the wrong one. You know someone is wrong for you when they make you incredibly unhappy. I used to want to appear spiritual, and status used to mean something to me, but it no longer does, and I no longer do. My values have changed. I think kids should come first. I think money is better spent buying a house, rather than globe trotting. I guess I just had a bad trip, but I think I woke up in a weird mood, so this is one of the worst blogs I have ever written.
Okay, I had coffee and a small breakfast, and my blood sugar is back up. I will share the good part. I read a ghazel by my father, which he asked me to read in Mandali Hall, in the presence of Eruch, and I got to spend some time with Eruch, who I really liked very much, before he died.
Also, I got to sing in Mandali Hall, a little performance, and have pictures of these things, since I had brought a camera, and someone took pictures.
I sang and played Sita Ram, the traditional Indian folk song a lot, and the servants loved it, as well as the Indian people at the dhuni, since it was a national favorite, Gandhi's favorite song, which is in Hindi.
As I wrote in my last blog, about the history of folk music, American I talked about, but songs of political and peaceful statements are what folk music is all about.
Sometimes, they are love songs or a story, but that usually make a statement about the place in time, such as Geordie, the old English ballad, where a maiden who is pregnant with her love's third child, and pleads at London Court, for his life. He is royalty, but "stole sixteen of the king's royal deer, and sold them in Boheny." In the end, he is hung in a golden chain, because the judge will not pardon him.
As I told a fellow on Facebook, who was telling me that seeking was the way, not desire, he is right. He made me mad, because I know my own past short comings, and writing about what an idiot I was, I brought it on myself. But, I am in the process of ego annihilation, and I do not really care what anyone says about me anymore, well maybe I care a little, but he is stating the obvious. I am sure he meant well, and feels he needs to teach me something. That is how people are, sometimes.
The beatnik movement started around the year I was born, 1961. My mother's former husband was the first beatnik my father had ever met, Bud Sife, who is still alive today.
That was actually in the fifties, before my parents were married, and my brother born in '59, so I guess I am contradicting myself, but I guess historically, Buddy was ahead of his time, in that way. My father describes his way of speaking, in his own autobiography, Journey Out of Darkness, his life story of encroaching blindness due to retinitis pigmentosa, his family, leading to meeting Meher Baba, in India, in 1965, with my mother, one year after she had met Baba alone.
Some of my father's autobiography has been published in Glow Magazine, edited by Narsherwan.
Folk music was a big part of the hippie movement. WWII was an instigator for writers such as Allen Ginsberg. And, I believe that, although he wants to be a part of the hippie movement, which really started around 1965, I think Leonard Cohen is more from the beatnik movement, because of his poetry, such as his published book of poems, Flowers for Hitler, obviously a sardonic statement, one of the poems it is named for, his age considered as well.
Truly, folk music began with slavery, spirituals, which kept the slaves going in adversity.
When Viet Nam started, and all through it, the hippies started a protest movement, including folk songs by singers, such as Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, and Pete Seiger. Arlo Guthry was from an earlier time. Joe Hill, born in Sweden in the late 1800's would fit into his category of union protest, etc., similar, but not the same as the type of music in Oh Brother Where Art Thou.
Included in the folk movement, were such singers as Judy Collins, The Seekers, Peter, Paul and Mary, Harry Bellafonte, and others.
In the '70's, pop stars, folk musicians like Joni Mitchel, who later became progressive and jazzy, by around '77 with Hissing on Summer Lawns, James Taylor, Carol King, Joan Armatrading, similar a bit to the nineties folk singer, who is still popular, Tracy Chapman, in style, Cat Stevens, Jackson Browne, etc., emerged on the scene.
I think that the bohemian movement, like in the '20's in Paris, with Gertrude Stein, Hemingway, Picasso, really started the seeds to the beatnik culture, which was like a renaissance of that, in a way, I think.
I find this all quite interesting, and so I researched some of the history. Sometimes I wish I had lived back in another time, because parts of my consciousness are so effected by it, having been born at the beginning, or one of the beginnings.
The cast of characters: the ego, dressed in red, wearing a crown that says, "ego," atonement, which has a sign saying "atonement - separation never happened - forgiveness," the movie projector, wearing a sign saying "projector," rolling the movie onto the screen, a real screen on which the ego acts out with atonement, all kinds of drama, non specified actors, attacks, and there are two others, Jesus, who does not have a sign, but you will recognize Him, and the observer, who is not labeled either, but can be recognized eventually. And finally, there is judgment, who wears a sign, saying judgement. Attack also wears a sign that says attack. Judgement and Attack are dressed in gray and black. Jesus is dressed as Jesus would. Atonement is dressed in white, but everyone dances, so they are dressed in dance attire.
Scene One
Narrator: The ego is acting out the movie, the projector is placing on the screen. The observer, the part of the self, that knows the difference between ego and love is the higher self, above the ego. Atonement, oneness, forgiveness are the same, and Jesus, our brother is there all the time, but He observes, and is present, but does not speak.
Ego: dancing against the screen to 'Baby Won't You Light My Fire' by the Doors, I am looking for someone to judge. I'm bored. I want something crazy to happen. Music fades and changes, and the ego is dancing and singing along to 'I can't get no satisfaction' by the Rolling Stones. Jesus is sitting serenely on the floor, not reacting.
Ego: What are you doing on my screen?! This is my movie, didn't you know? It's my drama! Ego begins to cry, crying for love.
Observer: Why are you crying, Ego? Love holds no grievances.
Attack: enters stage, No, you will destroy me. I feel separate, so separate. Stop being serene, Observer!
Observer: This is who I am. I am the light of the world.
Judgment: entering stage, You are so holier than though. What is your problem, Observer?
Ego: Yeah, you will be the death of me, ya know.
Atonement: Ego, you had a tiny mad idea, you were never separate from God. Here is your Brother, Jesus. She points to Jesus, who smiles, and she and Jesus embrace. Jesus stands and takes ego and observer's hands and they dance around in a circle, singing, 'I am the light of the world, I am the light of the world,' an original song. A guitar player accompanies in the background or possibly where he/she can be seen, depending on director's creative license. Everyone sits down in a circle.
Ego: But all this love is just not good enough. I need some action. I need some drama.
Attack: I'll show you action! Show ya some drama as well. I'll kick your ass, Ego. Attack starts hitting Ego lightly, getting his attention.
Judgment: I think you're all freaking crazy. There must be some way out of here. Jimmi Hendrix version of 'All Along the Watchtower' by Bob Dillon starts playing. They are all dancing until the song is over.
Atonement: If we want to get to heaven, and get out of here, we need to forgive, radical forgiveness, ya dig?
Observer: That's right. I choose the peace of God. God, let me see this differently.
Atonement: looking at Jesus, and touching his face gently, God is the light in which I see.
Ego: you guys are killing me, Man. I mean I can't stand all this spirituality. I just want to party and fight!
Judgement: That's because you are a generic bad person.
Observer: Generic bad person?
Atonement: All is forgiven. Separation from God never happened. Love holds no grievances. There is no bad person here.
Attack: This is such crap. I need a drink.
Ego: Yeah, and a cigarette. I need a girlfriend. I need to validate myself.
Judgement: You are so nonspiritual.
Projector: In on the action now, I'll go out with you, Ego. They kiss and make out.
Ego: I love you. You validate me.
Attack: You two make me sick!
Judgement: Yeah, get a room, you two.
Ego: Wait, I hate you now. Projector starts to leave.
Ego: Come back! I hate you, but don't leave me!!!
Attack: Ego, you are so crazy!
Judgement: Yeah, you're screwed up, totally.
Atonement: Just forgive. Only God, love, heaven and the Holy Spirit exist.
Observer: Ego, Atonement is right. Just let Projector go. She might come around. You know, there's other fish in the sea, and it is best to be serene and just let go. Let go and let God.
Attack: You're all bloody mad! I feel like I'm in a friggin' nut house. You guys are major losers.
Projector sits next to Jesus, puts her head on His shoulder, with a serene smile, and holds His hand. He leans His head back against hers.
Ego: crying, Oh, I miss projector... whining. He sings 'Yesterday' by the Beetles. There is a guitar accompanist.
Observer: Ego, you're going to be okay. Stop all this whining. I am sure maybe you and Projector can be very happy together, but we are all going to die one day, so you can't be so attached to everything.
Attack: What are you talking about? Don't talk to Ego about dying. He is very upset.
Judgement: It's your own damn fault, Ego. You screwed up the relationship with your neediness.
Attack: Yeah, now you've blown it. Projector will never come back now.
Ego: Oh, woe is me, I am just doomed. I am so sad. I wanted to be special.
Observer: That's the problem, Ego, 'specialness.' No one can be more special than God, and you were making Projector your Higher Power. He's your Higher Power. She points to Jesus, and goes and leans her head on Jesus's other shoulder.
Atonement: Look, Ego, it's okay. Projector has already forgiven you. She found the peace of God. Look at her. She is so happy. You are not really separate from God, either.
Attack: What? Ego is just plain pathetic. Just look at him.
Judgement: I just think you're all bloody crazy. Get a grip. Ego, your whole problem is you're a bloody idiot. Look at you.
Atonement: Ego, you are a child of God. You are not really ego, though. You and Projector are really one, and Observer too. You are all one, and Jesus is one with you too. And, you are one with me as well, but you just don't know it yet, because you think you are just a body, but all that really is real is love, heaven, God, and the Holy Spirit thought system. That is how it is. Everything else is illusion. Atonement is wearing a long, white robe, and spreads out her arms.
Ego: I am so confused. This Course in Miracles stuff is confusing. I feel like I'm in the land of Oz. Or la la land, not sure which.
Attack and Judgement retreat, finally, and go sit down next to Jesus, Projector, and Observer. They are looking down humbly, and Jesus is still holding Projector and Observer. Judgement and Attack embrace Jesus, too.
Atonement: Well, it is like that, Ego. It's just like the land of Oz. Sock puppets. Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain. She points to Jesus. That's exactly what it is like. You are attached to your body, because you think that is all you are, but you are more, and He is always walking and talking with you, every day, everywhere.
Observer gets up, and takes ego's hand, leads him over to Jesus. They embrace.
Atonement: He's always with you, the light, the truth and the way. Now you are the salt of the earth. The light of the world.
Jesus: I am always with you.
Atonement goes and sits next to the others on the edge of the stage on the floor. Guitar music and singing original song in background. Lights go out.
Lights on at the end, everyone bows, holding hands.
At final curtain call, engineers and musicians join, director, etc., join as well for final bow.
How Can a God of Compassion
Let These Things Happen
(lyrics to a song I wrote today)
How can it be this way,
People dyin' every day,
Seven children died at school,
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
How can a happy day,
Turn into a tragic dismay,
People hurt on Boylston Street,
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
Why does it make me so sad,
Why does it make me so mad,
People hurting every day,
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
But love is greater than any pain,
Light trumps darkness,
Sun in the rain.
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
How can a God of compassion,
let these things happen?
It seems like evil gets its way,
And the light gets covered up all the way,
But in the end the bad guys loose,
'Cause in the end it's love we choose.
Love is greater than all this pain,
Light trumps darkness,
Sun in the rain,
Light trumps darkness,
Sun in the rain...
{I wanted to record and upload to my Youtube account, and then share my singing and playing on Facebook, but it takes hours and hours for my computer to upload songs onto Youtube.}
I know I have bad eyesight, but I searched through pictures of female movie stars, looking for someone who I thought could play 'Lizzy' in my novel, American Boys, not because it is becoming a movie, but because I thought I needed a compass to describe her, if anyone wanted to know how she looked, beyond their imagination. She is totally not the main character, by any stretch of the imagination. I could not, however, find anyone, who in anyway reminded me of her, when I looked at actress pictures, except, for a moment I had to take a second glance at Drew Barrymore, but recalling Drew's looks in the movies, they did not exactly match the picture, and I know as lovely as she is, she is not the right one to portray 'Lizzy.' Look, I know I am not making a movie, not now anyway.
