Brando_ Songs My Mother Taught Me - Marlon Brando [167]
The more I have meditated, the more I have been able to control not only stress in my life, but pain. If I have a headache or stub my toe, I’m often able to locate the pain with my mind and will it away. So confident am I of this ability that when I decided a few years ago to be circumcised, I asked the doctor to do it without a pain-killer. I assured him that I could eliminate the pain using mind control during the operation. He was skeptical but said it would be an interesting medical experience, and he scheduled the operation. But when I arrived at the hospital, what seemed like its entire medical staff was waiting to witness the event. The prospect of seeing a movie star circumcised without anesthesia must have been a hot topic of discussion in the doctors’ lounge. I didn’t welcome the presence of uninvited guests, and since I go by instinct, I went home.
Later a different doctor agreed to do the operation without pain-killers, but he became frightened and an anesthetist was waiting for me when I kept my appointment. He said that because of medical ethics he couldn’t circumcise me without using a pain-killer. Disappointed and angry but tired of the delays, I let the anesthetist give me a shot in my back. Nevertheless, I still wanted to show the doctors what I could do, and I told them to take my blood pressure. I had already meditated, brought my blood pressure down more than twenty points, and even put myself into one of those moments of satori that I rarely achieve. To this day, I’m sure that if they hadn’t given me the shot, I would have felt no pain.
59
THE NINE YEARS during which I didn’t make a movie afforded me the luxury of time to get to know my children better, as well as myself. I was beginning to come to terms with myself with the help of Dr. Harrington, and I spent much of that time under the thatch roof of my hut on Teti’aroa with my feet sticking out the door, looking through the shell curtains at the vivid colors of the lagoon; like the sunsets on Teti’aroa, they change constantly, depending on the sun and clouds. I sat like that for hours at a time contemplating my life, assessing my values, examining every little bird of thought that flitted through my mind.
My life on Teti’aroa is very simple—walking, swimming, fishing, playing with the children, laughing, talking. I feel a tremendous sense of freedom there. At night there isn’t much to do except look at the stars, which I love to do, and most days I don’t wake up until about eleven, when I hear the fluttering of wings over my hut and birds plummet out of the sky, hit the lagoon in a quick splash and with the grace of ballerinas grab a fish for breakfast.
There is fresh fruit off the trees for my breakfast, then a walk on the beach. Or I may spend an hour or two with my ham radio, talking to strangers around the world, telling them that my name is Jim Ferguson—the name of my childhood playmate—and that I live alone in Tahiti. Nobody knows I’m a movie star, and I can be like anyone else.
Once when I was on Teti’aroa, for two or three weeks I would be drunk every day by lunchtime. I’d go down to the pool hall, shoot a few games and have a wonderful time. But it was a momentary lapse; I’ve never come close to becoming an alcoholic. It’s never taken more than a drink or two to put me into a tailspin, and that’s usually when I stop. There has been a lot of alcoholism in my family, but fortunately those family genes passed me by.
I’ve looked on Teti’aroa as a laboratory where I could experiment with solar power, aquaculture and innovative construction methods. I built one of the first sawmills in Polynesia that could turn coconut trees into lumber, and felt a great sense of accomplishment. I savor the smallest details on the island. Once I filled a hundred-foot-long piece of galvanized pipe with water,