Hippie Chick Seeks Revelation
As a youth, for seven consecutive summers, I attended Les Chalets Français, an exclusive French camp on Deer Isle, off the coast of Maine. Many nights, I would look up at the stellar sky, breathe in the balsam-scented forests and wonder; Who am I? Why am I here? Is there life after death? Is there life on other planets? When will I meet them? I hoped that someday, perhaps when I died, I might learn the answers.
My last summer there, after having studied the nature of atoms in 7th Grade, I marveled under that Deer Isle starry canopy. I saw clearly how an atom with a nucleus and electrons spinning around it, was a microcosm of our solar system, with the sun as the nucleus and its revolving planetary hosts. Worlds within worlds. Life forms within cells. Mind blowing universes. Seemed teeming with life.
I grew up with a religious Catholic mother and le-twice-a-year Jewish father. I chose to attend Catechism as well as Sabbath School , sincerely wanting to learn about God. Because my parents were different religions, they didn’t tell me what to believe in, but gave me the opportunity to “find God on my own.” It was lovely that when they traveled together, they always brought me back an angel statue. I enjoyed that both their religions had angels in common.
At age twelve I started visiting other local churches just to check it out and broadening my spiritual horizons as well as social opportunities. (The Protestant church held great teen dances and youth adventure trips.) I tried morning glory seeds in Winchester Cathedral on one such church trip at age twelve. I thought maybe I would someday become a nun. But then, maybe a nun that kept her hair long, rode the country on a horse with a guitar and talked about God, maybe sing a few Bob Dylan or Joan Baez songs.
I first smoked cannabis sativa, at age fourteen in the cemetery outside a church dance with my best friend, Lorin, and the two young hippie male heirs at the time of the K Mart and Syracuse China fortunes, both of whom had recently escaped from a mental hospital, their parents had sent them to, for experimenting with drugs.
Then were the influence of The Beatles, The Doors, Jimi, Ravi Shankar, Aldous Huxley, Salvador Dali, Timothy Leary and a host of ancient and modern teachers and wisdom to tap into. I enjoyed exploring the possibilities.
In desperation, to keep me away from the burgeoning hippie movement, at age fifteen, I was sent me to Miss Hall’s School in Pittsfield , Massachusetts . My parents hoped I would grow up a proper young lady. At Miss Hall’s I wore beads and a small tinkling bell with my pinstriped uniform and blue blazer. I was the only hippie; less interested in Gucci shoes and Papagalo purses, than paisley and patchouli.
One Saturday, out on the town of Pittsfield , I picked up a book called Yoga, Youth and Reincarnation by Jess Stearn. It promised to reveal ancient secrets on topics such as health, sex and awareness. How else is a young girl supposed to learn about these things at an all girls’ school? I bought the book.
A week later, my friend George who I met at an anti-Viet man War rally in the park brought me into my first health food store; on Main Street . We were both tripping on LSD. I could feel the energy radiating from the bin of organic apples, mung bean sprouts bursting into life, and sun dried papaya candy bars.
By the next Saturday, I had become vegetarian, was doing yoga before class, growing sprouts, and recommending chamomile tea for headache and cramps. I’m sure it was better than going to the school nurse, and getting an aspirin. I even had Tupelo honey.
I once had the privilege of helping Sally who lived down the dorm; get over a difficult LSD experience, for which prayer and Rescue Remedy helped much more than a trip to the emergency ward to have her stomach pumped could ever have.
I even had a small business in my dorm where I sold day-glo paint from Greenwich Village , and posters and buttons that visually proclaimed Make Love not War , God is Alive in a Sugar Cub e, and a handsome posters of Jesus saying, “Just tell them I said you can wear your hair long.” I was also getting a great education in French, Spanish, Latin, English History, World Religions, Chemistry, Dance, Drama, Sewing, and Art.
I was eventually expelled from Miss Hall’s Class of ’70 for some illegal, though therapeutic herbs found in a drawer. My stash was stored next to some ginseng root, and rosemary essential oil, which I used to improve memory and thus excel on tests.
A year later, instead of attending Bard College as planned, at nineteen I was living in a teepee on a commune in the Ozark Mountains of Reynolds, Missouri . My daughter Sunflower Sparkle Mars, born at home was in a papoose as I harvested wild edibles to feed my “tribe” of about twenty assorted freaky friends. Lambsquarter, elderberries, blackberries, watercress, purslane, wild onion, black walnuts and acorns were among our sustenance. We dried extra plants in the sun on the hot black surface of a trampoline to store food for the winter, as we had no electricity.
Another teepee dweller was Bobaroo, a bold young man with long auburn curls and intense brown eyes. He had lived as a fruitarian in the jungles in Ecuador with a spiritual teacher named Johnny Lovewisdom. He knew about living on the land, gardening and smuggling various herbs. Every time we would pass the cannabis filled “peace pipe,” he would bring out this big blue book and start telling me about The Urantia Book.
I knew Jesus was groovy, but didn’t want to feel limited by any one teacher. Enlightened information? Hey Darlin’ I had taken enough LSD 25 to have caught the wave of nirvana -union -bliss. I knew God was real. And Hail the Goddess. Haven’t I read enough books? The Bible, Baghavad Gita, Koran and even Kama Sutra?
Hadn’t I groked the reality of spirituality when I threw the I Ching or laid down a selection of Rider Waite Tarot cards? Yogananda was cool and I had experienced the opportunity to meet Ram Das, Muktananda, and Yogi Bajan. Urantia? I don’t think so. Besides I was a busy mom and needed to collect more wild amaranth, chop wood and fetch water from the creek to wash the dishes. The water for Sunflower’s bath warmed sparkling in the sun.
One full moon night, around the campfire with a group of Native Americans from St. Louis who had come to the farm do a peyote ritual. Feeling the eternity of all life, all light, I turned to Bobaroo who was sitting in the circle next to me, and quietly mused “I wonder what happened to the dinosaurs?” Bobaroo exclaimed softly, “I keep telling you, Sister. It’s all in the Book. The Urantia Book will tell you everything you want to know about anything.
“No kidding. It talks about dinosaurs? ”
“And cave people and Adam and Eve! Life on other planets and even life after death! Bob glowed.
“Hmmmm. Ok, I’ll check it out,” I confirmed. “But right now I’m going deep into the heart of space.”
My days in the teepee were spent tending children, gardening, collecting wild food, milking goats, and washing clothes with Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint Soap in the creek as crawdads nipped at my toes. Everything felt like a spiritual experience.
My first husband, Sergai was living in the main house with his ladylove Brenda. But that was cool, my lover, the dark and handsome Thomas had left me when I was five months pregnant. At dusk, as my daughters, Sunflower and now baby, Rainbeau Harmony slept to the sound of whip-o-whrills, and the creek that ran by our teepee. I read much of the Urantia Book by sandalwood scented beeswax candles. On several occasions, I read the blue book on blue hued mushrooms, which was totally amazing! It just rang true in my heart. You know what I mean.
The Urantia Book provoked myriads of questions, which often were answered in the next paragraph. My IQ increased and consciousness expanded. I conlated the nature of God, The Mother Spirit. Those Lucifer Rebellion dudes were wild brothers. I hope they decide to rejoin the Father’s team. I identified with Adam and Eve (who were raw foodists, like myself and “imbibed certain space emanations”.) By the time I reached the Jesus papers, I was a believer in Him. I was inspired to learn Jesus studied the stars and wildflowers. I loved that he had a core of women apostles. The story was so much more amazing than I had ever been taught in any church of my childhood. I loved hearing that when we die we don’t have to keep coming back to the same planet over and over. Evolution is much more expansive. And I didn’t even have to die to receive the answers to my far-flung questions.
Eventually, I managed a place in Miami called the Supernatural Restaurant and Juice Bar. I started serving Celestial Seasonings tea. I read their tea tags and when I saw messages such as “How many inhabited planets are there?” and “Cut out the middle man. Deal directly with God.” I suspected that folks at Celestial Seasonings in Boulder, Colorado just might be Urantia Book readers too. Maybe even some other things..
I moved to Boulder, Colorado, in 1976 as a single mom with Rainbeau now six months old and Sunflower five, to attend Boulder College of Massage Therapy, and hopefully connect with other readers. This was back in the days when hitchhiking was a safe thing to do. I hitchhiked to take Sunflower to Misty Mountain Preschool, then hitched to Massage School, then back to the house to nurse Rainbeau who was being cared for my friends who ran the local co-op. Till, Sunflower and I both retuned home at the end of the day. After making dinner for my “tribe” and playing with all of the household kids before their bedtime. I then walked up the hill to study herbal medicine with the brilliant William LeSassier. I found awesome community including many Urantia Book readers.
A month after arriving here, a wonderful man, named Tom Pfeiffer, gave me a ride from a Navarro rock concert. We shared some Maté Anise Spice tea and he said he was into Guru Maharaji. I could see he had spiritual potential. He certainly looked good and even had a job that didn’t involve illegal herbs. I went with him to see the fifteen-year-old guru twice, always wanting to be open. Tom graciously returned the favor and attended several Urantia Book study groups to check out my scene. He initially thought the Urantia Book was science fiction, but soon became a serious reader after reading The Marriage and the Family Life papers. (Wasn’t I blessed to meet him?) He took on the noble task of helping a single mama raise her two precious daughters in an honorable way. He is forever my hippie hero. I tell him, he reminds me of Van, the Steadfast.
There is something in the Urantia Book for everyone. If a celestial being appeared to you and said “I’ll answer any three questions.” What would yours be? “Would you be ready? Would you be steady?” Just about any topic can be explored in the Urantia Book.
Nowadays I live, teach and write about herbs, raw foods, natural healing and The Urantia Book. My beloved husband, human design analyst, Tom Pfeiffer and I live in Boulder, Colorado, a few blocks from where we first met thirty years ago. I still haven’t learned to drive a car. I am a grandmère of two and teach Herbal Medicine at Naropa University, where I love to talk about The Urantia Book in my History of Herbal Medicine class. It is there I get to talk about life being planted in the ocean, the evolution of plants, Andon and Fonta, The Garden of Eden and the Tree of Life. I pass the U Book around the classroom, and every semester, a few students see it as a revelation they are ready for.
I still dance psychedelic yoga ballet, and thank God every day for all of my blessings, including the Urantia revelations. Tom and I sometimes attend Urantia study groups at Mo and Jennifers’ Siegel’s where we read The Jesus Papers.
We have even hosted stoner study groups where we’ll have a raw pot luck, maybe a few will vaporize some herb and read something like the Adam and Eve papers or Government on a Neighboring Planet. See, even hippies can dig the book. There’s something for everyone. If you truly are high, and have positive intentions, it is easy to see truth.
The quest of my being is answered in the Urantia Book. I love to turn people on. Thank you God. Thank you Universe for providing the answers to the questions of our souls and infusing us with your precious love.
Blessed be! Om shanti
Brigitte Mars
