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Authors: Shirley MacLaine

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We traveled in Canada, France, Cambodia, Thailand, Australia, England, the United States, and Mexico. Whenever I discussed my spiritual and metaphysical ideas with him, he listened, nodded, and more or less said, “It could be. Who knows?” On a UFO stakeout in Mexico near Mt. Popocatepetl, at one moment we thought we saw a craft and Andrew nearly “climbed the sky” to see if it was real.

As foreign minister he controlled all the information coming out of Alice Springs (supposedly the underground UFO research facility in Australia). Because he was sworn to secrecy, he never told me outright that UFOs were extraterrestrial in origin and were present. But he said and did nothing to disabuse me of such a belief. When I told him about Roald Sagdaev having confirmed that UFOs and the presence
of ETs were real, he just smiled. When I told him I had gone to see Jimmy Carter to discuss UFOs, he just smiled again. Andrew was a trained diplomat of the first order and was his own best intelligence gatherer. He was learning more about the subject of UFOs from me than I was learning from him.

We have been friends for over thirty years, and we value each other very much. He is happily married now for the third time, and I remain friends with his children and his first wife, too.

When I look back on my relationships with political men of power, I’m always astonished at how incidental they seem to me now. It was more about my need to touch power and influence than it was about the individuals. Is that how it really is with all of our accumulated relationships? At the time they are all-consuming, life-and-death experiences. But in the end it is actually all about us and what we needed or identified with. Because of my years of being politically active, I needed to understand what politicians actually went through. What kept them awake at night? What motivated them to save the world or to destroy it?

Most interesting to me was the power that they abused in a sexual sense. Political power meant sexual power to them. They could have any woman they wanted. Everyone accepted the fact that if you occupied a position of leadership power, sexual promiscuity went along with it. It came with the territory.
Their wives looked the other way, knowing the future would be different when they were all old and gray. I’ve known several political leaders who were ultrapromiscuous, yet later on when their wives died, they suffered from unspeakable sorrow and guilt. The thrill of the clandestine left them alone without companionship later in life. If they had known that, would they have done it again? Probably. Everyone does what they do in order to learn about themselves. Some are just slow learners.

Does Anyone Get Over Sex and Power?

E
veryone knows that power is an aphrodisiac. I guess that was true for me too, except what I found sexy was the power to help people. To me, that was what leadership was all about. In fact, if I knew someone in power who
wasn’t
doing his utmost to make things better, it was a surefire turnoff. Obviously, Hollywood people find political power sexy, and political power people find Hollywood sexy.

I never had any proof that the Kennedy brothers had intimate relations with Marilyn Monroe, but it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of probability. Once at Arthur and Mathilde Krim’s house in New York, I joined an impressive gathering of movie stars and politicians. Marilyn was there. I saw her go into a private room with Jack. They stayed awhile, until he came out another door. Immediately, Bobby entered the room and stayed until the song that Jimmy Durante was singing was over. I have a picture of that night on my Wall
of Life. Of course, the Kennedy brothers and Marilyn could have been talking world affairs and comparing notes, but most of us thought it was the other kind of affairs they were interested in.

My own relationship with the Kennedys was what I’d call “sexually hilarious.” Before he was president, Jack often drove me in his convertible when he visited Hollywood. He must have been remembering every film he ever saw. We’d drive to Mulholland Drive, look out over the lights of the city and the San Fernando Valley, and
talk
. He wanted to know about people and their political persuasions. He wanted to know about how pictures were made. He never made a pass at me or anything. In fact, I wondered what was wrong with me.

Being in Bobby’s company was another story. Once during the Kennedy campaign, Bobby and his cohorts invited a bunch of us Hollywood types to spend a weekend in Palm Springs. I thought, why not? We all had a nice dinner at a huge table. Then we danced to the music of the day. It was amusing for me to see the future attorney general, the man who would go after the Mafia, doing the Twist for all he was worth. Some time after midnight we retired to our hotel rooms. My room was part of a huge suite that the Kennedy campaign had rented. I said goodnight to all the stragglers from the dance floor, showered, and got into bed.

When I was half asleep, my door opened and a man entered and climbed into bed with me. I didn’t know who it was. I sat up and rolled over onto the floor. I was one of those people
who had to know a little something about the person I was having sex with. The man climbed back out of bed and left. I got back into bed. Fifteen minutes later, another man came into the room and climbed in bed with me. I had no idea who he was either. Again, I rolled out of bed onto the floor.

This went on all night until I finally slept on the floor. I have no idea who the men were, or whether it was the same persistent man. When I got up the next morning, everyone was gone. Maybe that was the way the Kennedy crowd did sex—anonymously and with plausible deniability.

A political campaign arouses intense sexual power. I think everyone involved is so excited by their daily illusions of moving around the furniture in the White House that they need to express that illusionary power through sex. Also, it is accepted. It’s like being on location when making a movie. No commitment is necessary and everyone is in it together—literally.

I am basically a serial monogamist. One man at a time until the relationship is over. But once during a campaign (and I was involved with many), I decided I would be daring like everyone else. I had sex with three men in one day. It was stupid and brought me no satisfaction. At the end of that day, someone set the campaign headquarters on fire. It certainly wasn’t me.

It’s puzzling what illusions of grandeur do to the sex drive. There is a compulsion to be joined with another person. I wonder what the seven chakras look like all lit up during a
campaign! No one sleeps, no one really eats, and no one feels responsible for their own personal behavior because everyone feels they are contributing to something bigger, above and beyond themselves. The candidate usually needs to feel he is tending to his loyal flock by propagating his masculine prowess. And the flock feels it needs to reflect the candidate’s ability to be in charge by submitting to him. There’s also a subliminal message that you are not really part of the flock if you abstain. The shock of reality comes after you win or lose. If you win, then it’s a competition for acknowledgment (appointed positions, etc.). If you lose, you just go home to lick your wounds and hope you are welcomed back to the place you came from.

Another reason sexual expression may be intense during a campaign is that every individual involved is living with a sense of him- or herself as being dedicated to a higher cause. You believe in the candidate and what he stands for. You believe you can change the world. You believe you have a kind of power you never felt before. I guess that translates in a physical way into SEX and release.

The press corps covering the campaign always lurks, always watches, and sometimes, whether invited to or not, gets in on the action. We’ve all heard stories, particularly relating to the Kennedys, but for both the watchers and the watchees to be part of the same action must play havoc with how they do their jobs. The “people out there” wouldn’t approve, although all of them would participate unless they were intimidated
by what they secretly crave: sex and glamour and power. So the journalists and the glamorous campaigns they cover are doing one thing and speaking another. That’s when you understand that sex is the great motivator for hypocrisy. I’ve never understood why. Why is it such a subject for annihilation of character? Why doesn’t that fall to murder, greed, lying, and cheating? Why does anyone care about what somebody else does with his or her sexuality?

I Am Not Over the Founding Fathers

T
he intensity of my feelings about the birth of America was explained when I allowed myself to believe that I had been there when it happened. It also explains my spiritual leanings and my political activism in regard to what I believe this country stands for.

Many books have been written about the people who were part of our Constitutional Convention, and the information they reveal feels very familiar to me. Two books, one by Walter Jenkins and another by Walter Semkiw, did a study of the past lives of famous people and they specifically revealed what they believe was one of my past identities. Neither author knew the other. They both claimed through channeled sources that I was Robert Morris. Robert Morris has been called the forgotten patriot because he underwrote a great part of the Revolution and yet died penniless in a pauper’s prison. Potentially being a
man
in the American Revolution was not surprising to me. I knew I hadn’t been sewing flags.

And I have always had a strange fear of being penniless and imprisoned. I didn’t know where that came from. It’s possible that now I do know. There are many other similarities. Morris possessed psychic gifts that I have, too, if I allow myself to remain open. Morris shared a love of philosophy and investigation of metaphysics with his father, just as I have. Morris was good with money, as I am, until he spent it all on the Revolution. Morris moved on the spur of the moment. He never liked to plan. Neither do I, much to the consternation of my family and friends.

He was extremely punctual, as I am, and I am very judgmental of people who are late (as I’ve said, New Mexico is a good test of patience for me). Morris loved the sea. I have lived by the Pacific (in Malibu) ever since I left the East Coast. I keep a place there still. One of the reasons I moved to New Mexico is because I sense the Pacific coast will be inundated by a tsunami. I don’t know when. But it will happen as a result of an undersea earthquake.

Morris was an inveterate traveler, as I have been. He built his house on a mountaintop. So have I. There was a touch of P. T. Barnum in Morris. That is surely true of me. He was very curious about China and sent a ship there to explore trading possibilities. I formed a delegation to go with me to China. But most of all, I am dedicated to the American Constitution. Morris was an important delegate to the Constitutional Convention.

In one of my books I wrote: “The men who signed the
Bill of Rights and drew up the Constitution said they wanted to form a new republic based on spiritual values. And those values they believed in went all the way back to the beliefs of Hindu scriptures and Egyptian mysticism. That’s why they put the pyramid on the dollar bill—in fact the dollar bill and the Great Seal are full of spiritual symbols that link way back to long before the revolution, and all those pre-Christian beliefs had to do with reincarnation. . . .”

I mention this because many of our Founding Fathers were transcendentalists and
33
rd Degree Masons. They were our original politicians, yet none of the people in politics these days seem to know the origins of our democracy. They spoke of having a vision of enlightenment for the new nation. They fashioned the Great Seal out of sacred geometry because they were Masons. The city of Washington was modeled along sacred geometric lines. We have metaphysical roots underpinning our national identity.

Freemasons, at the most basic level, believed in the fundamental metaphysics of the Enlightenment. They believed that cosmic truths could be applied to creating harmony in a new society. They believed people could be self-governing and self-correcting. They warned against being ignorant of ignorance. They cautioned us against losing the foundations of our spiritual identity.

The Masonic sacred geometry we see in physical form in Washington, D.C., and in the great cathedrals of Europe dates back to Solomon’s temple. Sacred geometry is based on
the harmonics of space, sound, light, and the re-creation of the principles of the cosmos and nature, which are also duplicated in the human body and human consciousness.

The Founding Fathers believed that the ability to reason was defined as the ability to see the divine patterns which preexist in nature. On the Great Seal there is the eagle, which was known as the bird of Zeus (God). The bird stood for the incarnational principle of the deity coming to the field of action (Earth) and into the field of opposites (war and peace). In one of the eagle’s talons he holds thirteen arrows (war). In the other a laurel branch with thirteen leaves (peace). The eagle is looking in the direction of the laurel, indicating a desire for diplomatic solutions. Nine feathers are in the eagle’s tail (nine is divine power descended to Earth). Over the eagle’s head are thirteen stars arranged in the form of the Star of David or Solomon’s Seal. They represent the Zodiac, including God, and the thirteen original colonies.

The Rainbow Body of the Iroquois (seven colors representing seven chakras) signified the complexity of long life but a prophecy of peace. The Founding Fathers felt a chromatic link between music and the rainbow and the scales of sound and color. They said the Creator instilled that harmony in each of us, that these truths were self-evident. Much of our Constitution was based on the Iroquois Nation’s system of self-governing and self-correcting. As above, so below. The astrological Zodiac was self-governing and self-correcting.

BOOK: I’m Over All That
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