Perhaps I had never paid much attention to them before, but still it all seems so unlikely. For wherever I go and no matter where I turn, I notice the presence of dragonflies everywhere. Not so long after this first incident, Shelley came running in to tell me that dragonflies were surrounding the new car I had just bought after selling John’s Cadillac. I can suddenly look down to see them woven into the pattern of a carpet. Or someone is invariably wearing a brooch that brings a smile to my face.
I interpreted what happened that morning as a real sign. I recognized that whether it was from John or from some form of higher power, they could not have sent more powerful messengers than those beautiful winged beings. I suddenly felt a deep gratitude and peace. I knew from that moment that everything was going to be okay.
No matter what form the dragonfly takes on, its appearance strengthens my belief in a realm that is largely unseen but unmistakable in its power. And it is truly uncanny how they often present themselves in one form or another when I need their message the most.
Perhaps the most beautiful manifestation of this happened only a few months after John’s death. I was visiting Lizzie and was talking about John. I went outside to her small backyard swimming pool and suddenly felt very lonely. I looked down and saw a dead dragonfly on the ground. The body had split open into two lengthwise halves, as if they had opened to let its spirit depart, leaving behind its body as this exquisite shell. I was awestruck at how perfect that moment was in its clear and articulated message of transcendence.
Part of that message is also about trust. When you take the leap into that uncertain void, trust gives you the sense that there will be something better there awaiting you, even in the setbacks, loneliness, and pain that are often the very catalysts to help us acquire life-changing wisdom. So many of us think, “I’m afraid, unhappy, and not feeling well, but I know what I have and it’s going to be worse if I step out of it.” If you’re living life like that, you’re not really living. You’re doing it because it feels safe, but you’re not happy to be there. As you have seen through my adventures in this book, this trust factor requires diligence, courage, and regular maintenance, because it is always being challenged on a daily basis.
Recently, I was filming a commercial for Bausch & Lomb on location on a beach in Malibu. I had become a spokesperson for the company because, once again, adversity had turned into opportunity. I had had cataract surgery in the recent past, so I could speak from personal experience about how their implanted Crystalens worked so wonderfully well. The day was long, with lots of different setups and still photo shoots sandwiched in between the film takes. Despite it being summer, the weather was overcast and the winds blowing onshore were chilling to the bone. I had been working hard nonstop for several weeks, and I had reached a certain point at which I doubted that I would have the physical energy to complete the work that day.
“Come on, I need this energy now,” I called out in prayer for help, as I have throughout my life even during the times when my faith was diminished. When we lock into that mind-body-spirit connection and do so with trust, it usually works. It did so that afternoon on the beach. I was able to pull myself together and complete the day.
Dragonflies are the oldest known living insect. In many cultures, they are a symbol of transformation, renewal, wisdom, and enlightenment. They bring about the stripping away of all illusions. They are also the keeper of the dreams that guide us to our potential. What also resonates for me is the Japanese view of the dragonfly as joyous light that reminds us that we are filled with it if we so choose to recognize it. Beyond this symbolism, they brought me something even more important that morning—a reaffirmation of faith.
CHAPTER 22The Horse Stays in the Game
My life has been very nomadic. Don’t get me wrong, I love my time at home, but I still get restless. It’s a great feeling to be in demand and still in the game some six decades after taking that first trip to New York City.
One steamy hot summer day in 2010, I landed once again in New York, since it was the closest airport to my concert date. The car trip from Kennedy was brutal, the stifling bumper-to-bumper conditions adding hours to an already long journey that began earlier that morning in Los Angeles.
After such an arduous trip, you can get second thoughts. Once I got to the place where I was staying, I retreated immediately to the powder room to freshen up. Reaching for a towel, I looked up and suddenly noticed the design on the shower curtain. Imprinted on the plastic was a lovely swarm of dragonflies. That I had felt so tired and overwhelmed by the journey suddenly became unimportant. My second thoughts had vanished.
If it is true that your whole life flashes in front of you just before the moment of death, then stepping out onstage to do a one-woman autobiographical show is about the closest thing to that experience. The show I have been doing over the last two years, All the Lives of Me…A Musical Journey, takes on many of the same periods detailed in this book and matches them to the appropriate music—from songs my mother taught me, the Broadway hits, and of course, that little sing-along favorite that begins, “Here’s the story of a lovely lady who was bringing up three
