MacLaine - What if: a lifetime of questions, speculations, reasonable guesses, and a few things I know for sure

Also by Shirley MacLaine

You Can Get There from Here

Dont Fall off the Mountain

Dancing in the Light

Out on a Limb

Its All in the Playing

Going Within

Dance While You Can

My Lucky Stars

The Camino

Out on a Leash

Sage-ing While Age-ing

Im Over All That

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Copyright 2013 by Shirley MacLaine

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First Atria Books hardcover edition November 2013

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Designed by Jill Putorti
Jacket design by Janet Perr
Jacket photograph by Blake Little/Getty Images

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

MacLaine, Shirley, date.
What if... : a lifetime of questions, speculations, reasonable guesses, and a few things I know for sure / Shirley MacLaine
pages cm
1. MacLaine, Shirley, date. 2. EntertainersUnited StatesBiography. I. Title.
PN2287.M18A3 2013
791.4302'8092dc23
[B]2013023970

ISBN 978-1-4767-2860-5
ISBN 978-1-4767-2862-9 (ebook)

To Terry and Buddy-Bub

All truth passes through three stages: First, it is ridiculed; second, it is violently opposed; third, it is accepted as self-evident.

Arthur Schopenhauer

INTRODUCTION

I ts Good Friday 2013, and Im wondering whats so good about it. It seems that everywhere I go things are falling apart or a mess: wind and rain are turning into superstorms; road rage is an epidemic, maniacs behind the wheel even here in Santa Fe; shootings on freeways in L.A.; emotional terrorism from people in positions of authority in airports. On a daily basis packages are lost, products are defective, repairs never work, workmen dont show up, computers crash, the cable goes out. Asteroids and meteors fall to Earth, and governments are too paralyzed to help their people or themselves. Everyone talks about money all the time and where to get a deal. People answer questions with more questions. New Yorkers plow ahead down the sidewalks or in the streets, not blinking at crippling traffic or noticing the ear-shattering noise of seemingly endless construction. Angelinos build their fences higher and bury their heads deeper. Nobody seems to talk with clarity. I just want to stay at home either in Malibu or Santa Fe. What is happening? Is this daily trauma of a thousand small pecks a wake-up call telling us that we, the human race, may simply have gone too far for a cleanup?

Its actually become a bad comedy to me: nothing works. Our once-disciplined work ethic has evaporated, and many people seem to be just waiting for time off so they can indulge in another handful of painkillers. People complain about unemployment, but for the most part, they dont like what they do anyway.

Thank goodness thats not my story. In my line of work, Ive gotten to be a whole host of other people and Ive gotten paid pretty well for it. But the truth is Im not unique. All of us are really a collection of assorted people. Each of us is a myriad of personalities and identities; most of us simply have not caught up to the richness and complexity of who we really are. I am beginning to believe we are our own best entertainment. To paraphrase that wise man named Shakespeare, we are simply actors in our own self-created plays, believing that the fiction that we fancy is real.

Working in Hollywood, I live in a what if world, where there are multiple blue-sky meetings before any project: What if the leading man is ugly instead of handsome? What if he doesnt die in the end? What if we think hes dead, but hes not? Over the years, Ive noticed that all these what-ifs in my reel life have led me to adopt a similarly speculative stance in my real life. Theres a lot to be gained from asking yourself, What if...

For example, what if, on this Good Friday a couple of thousand years ago, Jesus didnt die on the Cross, but instead got married, had children, and traveled incognito for the rest of his life? What if Mary Magdalene was the missing mistress in the Last Supper paintings? What kind of impact would that have on the modern-day Church, its teachings, its sense of itself? There have been books bragging about various authors research into such matters, and Ill admit I have read most of them, but not many exploring what such a fact would mean. I subscribe to the saying One mans sacrilege is another mans truth. I like to think that Im open to exploring anything, always questioning, trying to live free of preconceptions and blind certainties.

Its fun to speculateits an entertainment, and entertainment is my life. Ive always believed that I owe my talent to my innate curiosity more than anything else. To me, imagination is more sacred and powerful than knowledge. Maybe we have even imagined ourselves into believing we are real when in fact we are a grand illusion dreamed up by some other species. Perhaps Shakespeare was right after alland I mean literally correct, not metaphoricallywhen he wrote, All the worlds a stage, / And all the men and women merely players; / They have their exits and their entrances, [births and deaths] / And one man in his time plays many parts [has many identities]... I know several intelligent scientists who believe it might be possible to prove that the human race and our dramatic shenanigans are actually an extraterrestrial pageant of some kind, with actors (that would be us!) who believe wholeheartedly in their characters dramatic story arca reality television of sorts for the ETs.

That may be true, but Im mindful of Stephen Hawkings warning: Be careful of embracing extraterrestrial life, should there be such a thing. Remember what happened to the natives in North America with the arrival of the white man. That was a pretty bad scene, wouldnt you say?

Stephen himself is a wonderful example of sophisticated, yet practical, illusion. It seems that he is confined to his wheelchair, incapable of moving anything but his right eye. But I believe he travels and moves about with more brilliance and curiosity than any other living person. I believe he leaves his body and soars in exploration of the cosmos, returning with reports of black holes and otherworldly civilizations.

I know him because for a time we had the same publisher. We met at parties and formed a friendship. When hed come to America, Id host parties for him, inviting people who werent exactly part of my usual crowd, but I loved meeting them.

He has two pictures over his desk at Cambridge University: one of Marilyn Monroe and one of Albert Einstein. He told me (through his electronic chair) that the curves of the universe are as beautiful as Miss Monroe. He also told me, and he has said so publicly, that he is certain he is the reincarnation of Sir Isaac Newton. He was born exactly three hundred years after Sir Isaac died, and he holds the Newton Chair at Cambridge.