We get to choose our own visages on the Other Side, and we can change them whenever we like through simple thought projection, especially when we visit a loved one on earth and want to be sure they recognize us. The one exception to that choice is that we’re actually bestowed with increasing physical beauty as our spiritual advancement increases—another of the major differences between here and Home, come to think of it. Sadly, we on earth usually come to learn sooner or later, whether we want to or not, that there’s no reliable connection whatsoever between physical appearance and spiritual advancement.
The Waiting Room
It never fails—just when I think Francine and I have covered all there is to learn about the Other Side, I find out there’s more, not because Francine’s holding out on me, but because, as she tirelessly puts it, “If you don’t ask the question, I can’t give you the answer.”
I knew that when we’re about to descend into a new lifetime on earth, there’s a long, beautifully designed process involved to guarantee that we haven’t made the decision lightly, there’s nothing haphazard about it, and we’ve taken every possible step to ensure that our brief trip away from Home will accomplish every goal we’ve set for ourselves. We’ve chosen our Spirit Guide. We’ve exhaustively designed our chart. The body we’ll inhabit is taking form in the womb of the woman we’ve selected to be our biological mother. We lie down on a table in a sacred, soothing room in the Towers, with the sunset pastels of the sky filtering in through the blue glass façade. We’re surrounded by comfort and support from those special, loving souls who are trained to keep us confident and unafraid.
I thought that was all there was, that the next step was our spirit entering the fetus in the blink of an eye, at the exact moment we choose. I was wrong.
One morning when she was six years old, my granddaughter Angelia told me about an astral trip she’d taken the night before. She routinely traveled to the Other Side while she slept, and she especially loved visiting the peaceful hush of the Towers. On that particular night she’d come across a room she hadn’t noticed before, with a vast window covered by a veil. Like every other child confronted with something hidden, she was curious and wanted to know what was behind that veil, and she took a step toward the room. But Francine, who’d been watching her, stopped her and said, “I’m sorry, Angelia. You can’t go in there.” Angelia couldn’t remember exactly what else Francine had told her, but by the end of the conversation she understood that behind the veil, inside that room, spirits about to leave Home to inhabit an infant body were actually diminishing in size, being transformed from their thirty-year-old physiques into babies themselves.
Honestly, I’d never given a moment’s thought to that very last part of our trip to earth. I guess I assumed that one minute we’re in our thirty-year-old body on the Other Side and the next minute, somehow, poof, we’re occupying a fetus. I shared that assumption with Angelia. Who knew it would be one of the dumbest things she’d ever heard me say? She rolled her eyes, she shook her head at my hopelessness, and her hands went straight to her hips as she replied with utter exasperation, “They can’t come in without getting little, Bagdah!”
With all the confidence of an older, wiser (and completely wrong) woman, I discussed with Francine this assertion that there’s a place spirits go to “get little” before they come back to earth, and wasn’t it typically adorable of Angelia to come up with such an imaginative dream? I should have seen this coming—it wasn’t a dream at all; it was an astral trip, and Francine had indeed stopped Angelia from going into that place in the Towers called the Waiting Room. In fact, her exact words to me were, “Of course spirits physically diminish in size when they descend,” and she sounded almost as exasperated with my ignorance as Angelia had been when she clarified that for me.
So, at the expense of my own pride, I can officially confirm that we’re all thirty years old on the Other Side until and unless we’re about to reincarnate, at which point we go to the Waiting Room in the Towers to essentially become babies again in preparation for entering the fetus we’ve chosen for our new lifetime on earth.
The Celebrities
Paul Newman
Paul Newman spent his most recent lifetime on earth as a prolific actor, director, navy pilot, philanthropist, entrepreneur, auto-racing champion, husband, and father. He was born in Shaker Heights, Ohio, on January 26, 1925. After getting his high-school diploma, he enrolled in the Ohio University Navy program, served in World War II, completed his college education at Yale with a degree in drama, studied at Lee Strasberg’s renowned Actors Studio, and received his first official screen credit in a television series called Tales of Tomorrow in 1952.
His Broadway debut occurred in 1953, in the original production of William Inge’s Picnic, and in 1954 he made his film debut in The Silver Chalice. The foreign press had the foresight to present him with a Golden Globe Award in 1957 as their “Most Promising Male Newcomer.” Until his retirement from acting in 2007, Paul starred in more than sixty movies, television shows, documentaries, and plays; produced and/or directed a dozen more television and film projects; and earned an Academy Award as Best Actor (for the 1986 film The Color of Money), a Best Supporting Actor Emmy and Golden Globe Award (for the 2005 TV production of Empire Falls), a Golden Globe Award as Best Motion Picture Director (for 1968’s Rachel, Rachel), almost fifty acting and directing nominations, and such prestigious honors as the Golden Globes’ Cecil B. DeMille Award and the Screen Actors’ Guild Lifetime Achievement Award.
He and his first wife, Jackie Witte, were married from 1949 until 1958 and had three children—a son, Scott, who died in 1978 from an accidental drug overdose, and two daughters, Susan and Stephanie. He married his second wife, accomplished actress Joanne Woodward, in 1958, a marriage that by all accounts continued happily, quietly, and devotedly for the rest of his life. They had three daughters—Elinor, Melissa, and Claire—and made their home in Westport, Connecticut, thousands of miles from the celebrity-driven glare of Hollywood.
Paul’s passion for auto racing was ignited when he trained for the 1969 film Winning. He competed in and often won events sponsored by the Sports Car Club of America (SCCA) and other racing associations until 2005, was a race team owner, and, in honor of his integrity and dedication to the sport, was inducted into the SCCA Hall of Fame in 2009.
He was as intensely focused on his charitable work as he was on his acting career. The Scott Newman Foundation, founded in memory of his son’s life and untimely death, combats drug abuse among young people. The Hole in the Wall Gang Camp is a residential summer camp for seriously ill children with locations throughout the world. Kenyon College in Gambion, Ohio, received a generous scholarship fund, and Catholic Relief Services donations toward its efforts to help Kosovo refugees. Through all these as well as his brilliantly successful, charity-devoted Newman’s Own food company, Paul Newman saw to it that when he went Home on September 26, 2008, after a battle with lung cancer, he left this earth richer, better, and more compassionate than he found it.
From Francine
Paul’s father was waiting for him at the end of the tunnel, silhouetted against the sacred white light, before Paul even reached Home. They emerged from the tunnel together, where Paul stepped into the ecstatic embrace of his son, Scott, before greeting the huge crowd of animals and friends from his forty-nine incarnations and from his stunningly productive eternal life here at Home. The Scanning Machine was both difficult and healing for him—he says that for all his blessings, he perpetually battled a deep sadness that he was aware of as far back as The Silver Chalice, not caused by his wives and children at all, but rooted in what he calls “my own tendency to withhold, so that I wouldn’t be destroyed if I felt I’d disappointed someone I loved, but of course by withholding I created the disappointment I was trying to avoid.” He was relieved to watch himself overcoming that particular demon over the years and finally “becoming the husband and father my wife and children deserved,” but he went immed
iately from the Scanning Machine to the Gardens of the Towers with Scott to ask his forgiveness for not “waking up sooner.” They’re often seen together now, loving and enjoying each other.
Paul’s chosen life themes of Aesthetic Pursuits and Humanitarian served him well. He says that while acting was never his passion, he enjoyed the process of it and appreciated it as a means to an end, with the end being the wealth and celebrity that allowed Newman’s Own, the charity that was his passion, to be such a success and, as a result, help countless people and animals in need. He frequently wishes he’d chosen a less handsome face, to allow himself access to more “character roles,” and he tells the story of how his face almost jeopardized his career in its early days. Paul was told not to get his hopes up for long-term success, because he looked too much like Marlon Brando.
Paul quickly, blissfully resumed his life on the Other Side. He’s a popular lecturer on the subjects of philosophy and philanthropy, with a focus on the richness to be gained in giving rather than receiving, both financially and emotionally, and his seminars are virtually mandated for spirits who are preparing to reincarnate. He lives alone, quietly and modestly, in a small house with windows on only one side, so that he can look out on a thick forest of sequoias where wildlife thrives and visits him as if they’re all his pets. He socializes with an interesting variety of friends, including James Dean, Harvey Milk, Walter Cronkite, and Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn, and he’s often seen at operas and plays, especially those continuing to be written by his frequent hiking companion Tennessee Williams. He occasionally performs “for the exercise,” out of love for the material and the opportunity to play the rich character roles that were so elusive during his earthly career. While he continues to be attractive, his thirty-year-old visage at Home is more ordinary and therefore more within his comfort level.
He’s also added a valuable new passion to his work on the Other Side since he returned. He and his son, Scott, are among the legions of spirits dedicated to welcoming suicide victims, from earth and from the Holding Place, and staying by their sides through any Orientation and cocooning they might need until they’re able to resume their happy, peaceful, productive lives with their souls fully healed and God-centered again.
Paul believes that “usually those things that ‘go without saying’ are the exact things that most need to be said,” so he makes a point of expressing that Joanne Woodward was his “rock” and his “anchor” and they’re “too much a part of each other to be apart.” He clearly remembers all four of their lifetimes together—two as husband and wife, one as brother and sister, and one as brothers—and he frequently visits her and hopes that she is aware of his loving presence. He has no intention of incarnating again, but promises he’ll go right on making a contribution to life on earth “for as long as life on earth needs a helping hand.”
Marilyn Monroe
Marilyn Monroe defined the terms “movie star” and “sex symbol” during her lifetime, and she continues to define them now, nearly five decades after her controversial death. She was shamelessly sensual but fragile, intelligent but helpless, ambitious but difficult, an icon of perfection but deeply flawed.
On June 1, 1926, in Los Angeles, California, Gladys Monroe Baker gave birth to a daughter she named Norma Jeane. Norma Jeane’s paternity has never been authenticated, although Gladys’s estranged husband, Edward Mortenson, is listed on the birth certificate. Whoever fathered Norma Jeane Baker, though, was definitely nowhere to be found, nor was Gladys on a regular basis. Mentally unstable and institutionalized from time to time, Gladys handed over most of the care of her daughter to a succession of orphanages, guardians, and foster homes, in some of which she was reportedly abused.
In June 1942, when she was sixteen, Norma Jeane married James Dougherty, a marriage arranged to keep her out of yet another foster home. Dougherty enlisted in the Merchant Marines in 1943 and during World War II left his young wife in the care of his mother. Norma Jeane was hired by a munitions factory, where she was photographed for an article in Yank magazine. As a result of that photograph, she was signed by the Blue Book Modeling Agency and, with its encouragement, transformed herself from a brunette to a blonde and became a successful model who began to dream of an acting career. Dougherty demanded, when he returned home, that she choose between their marriage and her career. She chose her career and divorced James Dougherty in 1946.
Norma Jeane quickly captured the attention of Ben Lyon, a Twentieth Century Fox executive, who signed her to a six-month contract and changed her name to Marilyn Monroe. After a couple of nonstellar film appearances in 1947, Marilyn was released from her obligations to Fox and returned to modeling until 1948, when she signed a six-month contract with Columbia Pictures.
It was her appearance in a Marx Brothers film called Love Happy in 1949 that attracted a successful agent named Johnny Hyde, who promptly signed her and was instrumental in landing critically acclaimed roles for her in John Huston’s The Asphalt Jungle and Joseph Mankiewicz’s All About Eve. Hyde is also credited with negotiating Marilyn’s seven-year contract at Twentieth Century Fox in 1950.
Her film career was well on its way by the end of 1952 despite the stage fright that had begun to plague her, causing her to hide in her dressing room for hours while the rest of the cast and crew waited impatiently for her. She graced the cover of the first issue of Playboy in 1953, the same year in which she was suspended from her Fox contract for failing to appear for work and in which she met baseball superstar Joe DiMaggio, whom she married on January 14, 1954, a marriage that lasted less than a year.
Displeased with the quality of roles being offered to her by Fox and with the relatively small salary, Marilyn broke away from the studio and moved to New York, where she studied acting at the famed Lee Strasberg Actors Studio and began dating playwright Arthur Miller, whom she married on June 29, 1956. Her severe stage fright continued to plague her throughout her acting classes, but she was also recognized as a genuinely gifted standout. In the meantime, her film The Seven Year Itch was released to enormous success, and she re-signed with Twentieth Century Fox with a much more lucrative nonexclusive contract.
Under her new contract Marilyn starred in Bus Stop and The Prince and the Showgirl with critical acclaim and relatively few problems. She took a year off to focus on her marriage to Arthur Miller, but she sadly suffered a miscarriage in August 1957. She returned to Hollywood in 1958 to shoot Billy Wilder’s Some Like It Hot, costarring Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis, during which her compulsive tardiness, hostile refusal to take direction from Wilder, and general obstructive behavior contributed to her growing reputation for being difficult to work with. But the film was a huge box-office success, received five Academy Award nominations, and earned Marilyn the Golden Globe Best Actress Award.
By the late 1950s Marilyn’s health was in a conspicuous decline, due largely to a growing dependence on prescription medication, particularly sleeping pills to battle her chronic insomnia, and the strains on her marriage were becoming more and more apparent.
Arthur Miller had written a screenplay called The Misfits, which began filming in July 1960 with Marilyn, Clark Gable, and Montgomery Clift, directed by John Huston. It was to become Marilyn Monroe’s last completed film. She was often too ill and too anxious to perform, her fragile health further compromised by a steady stream of prescription medications and alcohol. A month after filming began she was hospitalized for ten days with an undisclosed illness, and when she returned to the set her open hostility toward her husband was a recurring obstacle. Clark Gable became ill while shooting The Misfits as well, and less than ten days after filming was completed, Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller officially separated and Clark Gable was dead from a heart attack.
Marilyn’s addictions to alcohol and prescription drugs escalated following the lackluster box-office performance of The Misfits, and in February 1961, once her divorce from Arthur Miller was finalized, she checked into a psychiatric clinic. For the remainder o
f 1961 she battled a series of mental and physical health challenges, with her former husband and still loyal friend Joe DiMaggio by her side.
In 1962 she started filming Something’s Got to Give, but her repeated failure to report to work forced Twentieth Century Fox to fire her and file a lawsuit against her. On May 19, 1962, she gave an unforgettably breathy, voluptuous, and somewhat slurred performance of “Happy Birthday” at the birthday celebration for President John Kennedy, with whom she was later reported to have had an affair. She launched into a busy series of interviews, photo shoots, and meetings about future projects. She and Fox resolved their dispute, and they renewed her contract. And Something’s Got to Give was scheduled to resume filming in the early fall of 1962.
But at 4:25 a.m. on the morning of August 5, 1962, Marilyn’s psychiatrist, Dr. Ralph Greenson, placed an emergency call to report that she’d been found dead in her small Brentwood, California, house. She was just thirty-six years old. Following an autopsy, the cause of death was listed as “acute barbiturate poisoning—probable suicide.” Even now, nearly fifty years later, the circumstances surrounding her death continue to create any number of theories and allegations, including homicide. Marilyn Monroe was laid to rest on August 8, 1962, in the Corridor of Memories at Westwood Memorial Park, leaving behind a legacy of thirty films and an iconic standard of beauty and glamour at their most vulnerable that will never be duplicated.