Maria Luisa - Maya
THE SECRET LIFE OF PT
My life has been a constant quest to learn the reason for my being here. Shot out of my body, aged nine, by an ovedose of nitrous oxide administered by a Swiss dentist, I realized, as I viewed the scene from the ceiling, that I was not flesh and bone but something rarer. Discovering L. Ron Hubbard in 1953, I wrote an outline for a film, "Reactive Chains," to dramatize "recall" to birth...and beyond. Sam Spiegle, the producer, took me to lunch in the King Cole Room and said he would very much like to shoot my proposal, but that first he had to shoot "Waterfront" with Marlon Brando. And that was that. Regressed to Past Lives by friendly Scientologists I got hung up in the XVIth century and am still curious. So much so, that I may seek Dr. Michael Newton to give me some deep hypnosis into the life between past lives, the real world.
Some time in the 1960s I heard that a federal judge in the Sovereign State of Maine had ordered the books of an eminent doctor of Medicine and Philosophy, Wilhelm Reich, publicly burnt. To discover how something so outrageous could occur under Federal law, in the supposedly civilized administration of a five star general, I bought a house two blocks from the Library of Congress, and armed with a stack pass, spent some 30 years looking into every recondite corner for authentic illumination. It led me to some remarkable reading in the works of such esoteric authors as Manly P. Hall, Ouspensky, the Theosophists, the whole world of the Golden Dawn, and finally, Rudolf Steiner.
With my own books, THE SECRET LIFE OF PLANTS, SECRETS OF THE SOIL, and THE SECRET LIFE OF NATURE, I tried to alert my countrymen to the deadly danger of allowing the Planet to be destroyed before our eyes by lethal petro-chemical companies and their corruptible colleauges in high places. It is not easy to live in a country run by people who believe that Columbus discovered America, that William Shakespeare wrote the sonnets and plays, that the Illuminati of Bavaria were as terrible as the Jesuits who maligned them, or that any army general could ever be fit to run a democratic institution.
And lest I take myself too seriously I need only re-read my son Ptolemy's spoof about his old man, lampooned in "Paradise Fever" as a "guru" of the seventies, a book for which he got a bigger advance than I have ever pulled down.
I have married thrice and loved each of my wives: Jerree Talbot Smith, Elizabeth Vreeland, Maria Luisa Forenza. I have three children: Robin, Timothy, and Ptolemy; two remarkable stepsons, Nicholas and Alexander Vreeland; a sister-and-two-brothers-in-law, Sonia, Mario, and Antonio, all brilliant; several grandchildren, and a couple of cunning great grandaughters, inhabited by God knows whom.
Grandson Oliver with Great Grandaughter Olivia.
I would be happy to tell more, after counseling with Dr. Newton, or suitable facsimile, though I prefer to drink from the source, when possible. I can be reached by e-mail at peter@