Journey: A Personal Odyssey

Regarding format, early on, Marsha alerts us that her book is uniquely structured. Good warning. Her past-, future-, as well as her present moment-thoughts whirl about, bombard us. It's as if the reader becomes a passenger in Marsha's racing car. Just when you're enjoying a stretch of intriguing scenery -- a descriptive passage about her childhood or one of her marriages -- she shifts gears, swerves, and swiftly tears along a different pathway of thought. I grew to like this choppy, unpredictable quality. It's different, refreshing; just ride with it, and you'll probably enjoy the kaleidoscopic text-patterns, and her multi-voice, inner characters.

Marsha's anecdotes are heart-felt and discreet. Sometimes it seems that her racing stream-of-consciousness technique was created as protective buffer, screening the author from readers, sustaining privacy -- never dwelling too long on detailing the causes or effects. Still, Martha wonderfully reveals an abundance of material per her spiritual awakenings.

A book, The Play Goes On, by her ex-husband, playwright Neil Simon, exploring his version of their marriage, complements Marsha's work. I'd hoped Marsha would someday publicize her experiences, including per Siddha Yoga (my ex-path). Marsha entitles one chapter, "Be Careful What You Ask For." I'd say, "be grateful for what you wish." I'm glad I've been given her insights into life, her owning of her perception and experiences of spirituality, linked to creative-expression, marriage, etc.

Yet it was odd that she writes of the oppressive nature, the authoritarian, punitive aspects, in her eyes, of her Catholic upbringing, and of her father -- and yet sees no possible parallels to her ongoing guru connection. I also wondered about the gaps: Marsha states she was away from her guru lineage for nine years. Why? And what brought her back?

As she mentions, Marsha was one of many well-known people who flowed to Baba, the "guru to the stars." I remember how, as an impressionable young girl, star-struck, being new to the monastery in India, I spent my early months leaping up like Lucy Ricardo inside the Brown Derby. Marsha seemed non-elitist, warm, down-to-earth, while doing "seva" (working). In India or America, she appeared unattached to the jockeying for position. While she sometimes attracted perks (close seat to the throne; private guru discourse, the staff later publicized; some glamorous, high-profile, rainproof work-assignments, etc) she radiated humility unshown by various meditators with ambitious plans -- The participants in CBS' first "Survivor" series (Marsha = Jenna plus Sonja) would have fit right in! (I'd love to produce a t.v. reality-based series called "Ashram!"). This journal seems truly to reflect Marsha's camaraderie and genuineness.

The bulk of the book explores her acceptance of the concept of "surrender." I appreciated her poignant mention of a mutual friend, the late writer Paul Zweig. Yet here, Marsha seems to have missed what Paul was beginning to contemplate. She praises him as a "devotee" in an effort to highlight Siddha Yoga. Yet per my memory, Paul Zweig had reappraised Siddhahood. Before his illness prevented him from doing so, Paul would travel to the countryside, and give lectures to a small group of us creative artists, who gathered regularly. In his quiet kitchen-chats with a few of us after each session, I remember how intensely blunt he'd become, his illness emboldening him to question Siddha Yoga's desire-denying code, usefulness, where meditation worked, where it didn't, and however it failed to comfort, heal. I don't know if or how he ultimately resolved these doubts. I only know his self-inquiry was instrumental in my growing up, and away, from the guru-disciple framework, to which Marsha evidently still adheres. His insights led to my desire to rationalize no longer the unsavory behind-the-scenes organizational atmosphere, the silencing of backtalk-questions per rumours of impropriety; the concentric alliances of power-play, per the guru; then between the twin-appointed guru successors (siblings: sister vanquished brother); and among member-levels. It was time to re-evaluate repressive aspects to Eastern philosophy in general. Thus, to leave, forego the top prize of enlightenment. So it's natural to wonder why Marsha omitted these aspects, and if she might not be in denial, and how this particular "unowned" yogi-voice will ultimately affect her.

So the book-ending evokes a theme, the mystery about Marsha: Is she truly happy now? Healed? Is she setting herself up for further spiritual claustrophobia? I wish her well. What wonderful blessings she has received now -- to work with plants, being immersed in the beauty of nature, befriending animals. For most readers, spiritually inclined or not, this book would be a worthwhile read. The author seems determined to find her way, somehow, to what a philosopher I like, Paul Ricoeur, terms, "second naivete:" innocence within matured wisdom.

Framed within the physical journey of her move from Hollywood to her new digs in New Mexico, these series of flashbacks are just that - brief glimpses of parts of a life that have touched many people. Almost thirty years after her star first began to rise and twenty years after it set, she is still not only remembered but deeply loved by everyone who saw in her performances a beauty, an emotional honesty and a courage that few actresses have revealed. She was and is equally adept in comedy and drama, in period and in contemporary pieces. She is an artist first and foremost. She also has never stopped working. We continue to see her in television roles and in theatrical offerings, which she interweaves with her work on the medicinal herb farm she runs with Gary Dale.

The key words in this work are courage and honesty. In the first chapter she matter of factly reveals her multiple personalities, introduces us as it were to the cast of characters that populate her inner life. This is courageous. This is saying, "Here I am. Take me or leave me." She is also brutally honest in taking responsibility for what she considers her mistakes. The little girl is ever present in the mature woman - the vulnerable, innocent, young hopeful - entering a tiger's den known as Hollywood.

When Marsha, the Garys and I all lived in a block long W.72 St NYC apartment building in the early 70s, you could expect to see Marsha, about to leave for the coast, newly married and newly nominated for an Oscar, picking out a variety of cat food in the supermarket so that her critters would be well cared for in her absence. With about a dozen dogs surrounding her early morning walks on the N.M. estate, she still surrounds herself with the animals she has always loved and nurtured and will break dinner dates with the rich and famous if one of her brood is ailing. She knows who her friends really are.

This is a marvelous memoir, written with insight, self-awareness, and humor. Her style is breezy and conversational. It was fun for me to learn about the "missing pieces" - they help round out her character and they explain a great deal about her personality.

BUY THIS BOOK - there, I've said it.

Now, a few words about Gary Dale. Gary Dale Campbell is not only Marsha's "prince" but a good and loyal friend. He is the sun her planet revolves around. Before "angels" became trivialized by modern writers, I considered him to be a true one. Those whose lives he's touched feel the same, I'm sure. Balancing a kindness equal to her own with a common sense and practicality that anchor both Marsha and his life partner, Gary Dontzig, Gary Dale emanates warmth, love, compassion and understanding. His kindness and gentleness provide a rock of healing, a touchstone whose personal loyalty assures his constant presence. He deserves a book of his own.

Enough said. Marsha Mason is in the final analysis, like Blume's farewell line in her second feature, BLUME IN LOVE, "a nice lady." We maybe don't deserve her, but I'm glad she's here.