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Bettie Page Buddha
“Wouldn’t it be great to have a character party?” I asked my friends Frances and Harold. Characters being distinctively–and for the party–pleasurably unusual people. Of course, all of us were included.
Later, as Frances and I were walking to a neighborhood cafe for our weekly treat together, she suggested, “What about everyone wearing a costume?” A costume associated with a famous character. She wanted to go as Georgia O’Keeffe, about whom she was reading, and she imagined Harold in Alfred Stieglitz attire.
Nothing for me leapt into my imagination, and then Frances offered, “Bettie Page!” seeing along the lines of numerous people who’ve said, “You look like Bettie Page.” That began in the late 1980s, when images of Page, the 1950s pin-up icon, began to show up in mainstream culture.
My response was slow and a little reluctant, “Don’t know what I’d wear . . .,” and as we described a few possibilities, another character appeared, and I said, “The Buddha . . . Not that I think I’m a buddha. I admire him.”
The character party? I’m sure that the idea will entertain Frances and me again . . . and I could enwrap myself in something simultaneously monkish and sensual, robing that conjures up the Buddha in saffron and Bettie in an animal print.
Oh what a delightful idea! Definitely a party I would love to attend…I think the golden radiance of a buddha seems an appropriate choice for you, and a good balance for the maybe too easy Bettie option. Not sure what character I would want to step into…seems such a permanent choice for some reason. I don’t want to limit it as the idea-play is such fun!
I’d like to go to the party as Will Inman.
After a long night battling with Tucson city council over saving old neighbhorhoods (I fondly refer to them as shtetls) from minidorms, this morning a beloved friend and goddess kindly reminded me to not get too wrapped up in politics and the emotions of it. She reminded me that art is my life more than politics and that politics is corrupted and full of draining disappointment for fearless fiery redhaired pipi-longstocking pollyanas like myself. “Yes Yes, I know, I know,” I nodded and replied.
The razor’s edge, however, is detaching from passion but actively engaging with selfless compassion, to utilize one’s gifts for the betterment of all, and, like Arjuna, knowing there are battles and picking one’s battles wisely. I mentioned the poet Will Inman, who recently died in Tucson at the ripe age of 86 and serves as a good role model for active healthy engagement. Will was an exemplary community poet whose verses written over six decades rang with comments on social injustices and emotional pain but were also provacative, gentle, and nourishing. He had been a union organizer, Communist, and outspoken bisexual during days gone by, as well as a teacher, publisher, writer and dedicated poet. He taught poetry to homeless people and prisoners! He walked the razor’s edge elegantly in the same style as Buddha and Jesus and other deep cultural revolutionaries did. I’d like to quote his words here because I don’t think I’ve heard the razor’s edge better described:
In Will’s words, I feel this way about him and me, “I never knew this man but he ancestors me yet.”
Many thanks to my goddess friend for stirring up the pot of self-enquiry.