Andrew and I carried on in our two distinct worlds. By 1989 we were sharing less and less until we lost the stitch of the fabric we’d been weaving together. A marriage is not about special events or lavish holidays; it’s about small things, all those mundane moments that add up to something more.
Under the saddest of circumstances, after ten years of marriage, Andrew and I decided we could not go on as husband and wife. Our marriage did not fail because we stopped loving each other. It failed largely because the absences gradually destroyed us. We rarely saw each other, and you cannot build a foundation without the bricks and mortar of togetherness and communication.
To this day, Andrew and I both believe that we would still be married had we fought for what we believed was right. When people asked if I could cope with naval life, I replied: “Of course! You can cope with anything if you love your man.”
I would have followed him anywhere. But I was disillusioned after being refused permission to live with Andrew in married quarters where he was stationed.
We both discussed the possibility of Andrew’s leaving the navy and becoming governor of Canada for a bit. Looking back, if Andrew and I had been strong enough to say that we were going to do something like that, we probably would still be together now.
In hindsight, I regret we did not make a stronger case for Andrew to leave the navy. My people-pleasing and approval-seeking behavior kicked in, and I did not think he would be happy to leave the navy for me. I did not fight hard for that, as I did not want him to think badly of me.
We were young, immature in many ways. He didn’t want to rock the boat. It is very difficult to stand up for things if you’re still growing up.
I love him as much today as I did then, as does he love me. The saddest part of the story is that it needn’t have ended as it did.
The days following our separation were truly dark; leaving the royal fold as I did makes you a non-person and a pariah. I love Britain, and I loved being a princess. I was very good at it, dedicated to giving my life to duty and to my country.
But I felt discarded, as if I no longer belonged. As much as I cared about what people thought of me, I had to shut that from my mind and concentrate on what really mattered. Beatrice and Eugenie were born to royalty and for that they needed a very good mummy. I was willing to do anything to be that.
From there on, I threw myself into my charity work for sick, neglected, and abused children—all children around the world, really. That is what my life is all about. It is a passion inspired by my grandmother—whom I affectionately called “Grummy.” Although she was from an old and prosperous family, and herself very much a stern parent to my mother, the fact is that my grandmother had a heart of gold and enormous compassion for those who were less fortunate.
She was a big fan of St. Francis of Assisi. Whenever I would slip into one of my woebegone moods, Grummy would tap me lovingly on the forehead and quote the Prayer of St. Francis:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
Seeing my misery, she would add that “when you feel bad about yourself, give to others,” and her advice made me see the self-indulgence of my brooding.
Writing down the good things I’ve done rescues me from self-doubt, and so one day while feeling very melancholy, I penned these words in my diary:
In 1992, I took myself off to the most polluted place in Poland, Upper Silesia, and found that the only hospital for children was in a place where all the coal factories were—Katowice. The children there were dying from cancer from breathing polluted air. How could they get better with no clean air?
I met a charismatic, bright, and superbly talented and strong Irish girl named Sophie Lillingston. She was so enthusiastic, and she had been working tirelessly with the amazing doctors and nurses of the Children’s Hospital in Katowice. I immediately grasped an ounce of her enthusiasm and wanted to start Children in Crisis, a charity for forgotten children, straight away in order to help Sophie realize her dream.
The doctors and nurses in Poland in 1992 had very limited medical supplies and support, through no fault of their own. There were very little available resources back then.
Visiting time for the children was just one hour—not enough time for the parents working in the factories to visit them. It was on that trip that I founded Children in Crisis.
We were able to move the children to the Tatra Mountains where the air was pure. Experts say that 28 days of clean air bestows 2 more years of life. Children in Crisis built a wonderful facility there called Mountain Haven.
To this day, 32 children a month travel to Mountain Haven to breathe, to laugh, to cook marshmallows on an open fire. I would give my last pennies and my last hours to keep that facility going. In fact, the week prior to the Fake Sheikh scandal, I was in Poland to raise money to keep the facility open.
Today we have approximately 43 schools in places like Sierra Leone and Afghanistan. Had that horrible Fake Sheikh told the truth, you would have heard the videotape saying that I needed £110,000 to build a girls’ school in Afghanistan.
After the Oklahoma City bombing, we pledged $150,000 for the pediatric center there. I became personally involved, meeting P. J. Allen, the little boy who was so badly burned he wasn’t able to go outside for two years. We gave his family fifteen thousand dollars to build a little greenhouse so he could run around and play. I love P. J. I saw him recently when I went back to Oklahoma City.
In total humility, I say that one day, after I’m gone, people will know that I dedicated my life to children’s causes. My family knows this now, as do the children in the countries where I have built schools. They know.
So much of who I am can be attributed to all these roots—my family, my friends, my upbringing, my charities. I carry my roots deep within me. I had always believed they were my strength when things got tough. Yet, looking back, where were they in May 2010?
From: Simon
To: Sarah
Darling Ferg,
From you for a while, except to your sworn closest mates and family, what the world needs is “silence.” People do forget and, strangely, they also forgive, but not if you won’t let them.
Into the shadows you must go and re-emerge on a sunny day, quietly doing something really lovely, like attending one your daughters’ weddings … not with a triumphant march as a Roman general returning victoriously to Rome. No front-stage stuff.
Understand that affection is won through quiet humility … really understand this. There is nothing greater in a human and nothing rarer, and nothing worth more.
Reputation takes a long time to get back and it is the most valuable thing to have in life. So you have time and make it your goal. It is really the only thing of value you can pass on to your children and grandchildren. So get it back, slowly.
Remember the words of the Bard:
“The purest treasure mortal times afford, is spotless reputation; that away, men are but gilded loam or painted clay.”
Much love,
Simon
To: Simon
From: Sarah
My dearest Simon,
As coal under pressure turns into a diamond, our spirit under great pressure has the chance to turn into the jewel that it is. This has always been known.
The weight of things brings us to our knees, and we are forced to see th
e underside, and there the light of God shines. I am looking at my whole life. I am trying to see my thousands of flaws from the underside, and to go forward from there.
I am resolving what needs to be resolved, and I will return to full energy and the really good old Ferg from all those years ago.
As to anything else, I am battling hard through each day, but your words made me weep with joy. I felt relieved by your strength and humor. But more than anything, I felt your great compassion and kindness for your old mate.
All love,
The bloody Fool
Fergs
From: Peter
To: Sarah
June 23, 2010
Dear Sarah,
Just a short note from your Mountain Haven friends to tell you how enormously grateful we are for all that you have done (and selflessly given) for Polish children over so many years. You have been a rock and an inspiration for us all and we hope that in this difficult time for you, you will know that you are in our thoughts and hearts, and always welcome in our homes, whether in London, Zakopane, or Lipnica Wielka. All you need to do is call, or drop in—anytime.
With much love and best wishes,
Peter
From: Simon
To: Sarah
What matters is NOW. The present is the only time we live in. It’s REAL time. The past has been. The future does not need to overcon-cern us because a drunken bus driver can end it at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. It is NOW. The present, which is a word meaning “gift.” Never forget this, and make the best of it in every way, every day.
I must not lecture and do not mean to. I am your friend. I am over seventy and am allowed to speak my mind!
Love,
Simon
To: Simon
From: Sarah
My dearest Simon,
I totally get what you are saying, and I am working flat out on the inner Sarah and returning with total humility.
I love you now and always for your total objective candor and extraordinary strength of friendship. Your words make me think a lot. One day you will be proud of me.
Thank you so much.
All my love,
Ferg
3 The Lotus Flower
I went to find the lotus flower within myself.
I WANTED MY ROOTS to be like those of the lotus flower. It blossoms on the surface of still water, while its roots go right down to the mud below. Untouched by the dirty water in which it lives, the lotus remains strong, pure, and undefiled.
The lotus is one of my favorite plants—a most unusual plant—and I see it as a metaphor for the new life I hope to build on this journey.
The first time I saw a lotus, it swayed precariously in the breeze. I imagined that an underwater juggler must be holding the bottom of several stems and balancing the leaves above water.
The lotus flower is a legendary symbol of life and endurance. Buddha is often depicted meditating in the lotus position, cradled by a lotus flower. Ulysses’s crew mingled with lotus-eaters and, like them, became dreamy. Egyptian goddesses were symbolized by the lotus. Some Hindu sects see the world as a lotus flower, with the seven petals representing the seven divisions of heaven. The lotus was also the flower of Lilith, Adam’s first wife in Jewish mythology.
In the middle of a lotus flower is a large cone-shaped seedpod; when dried and drooped it resembles a showerhead. The Chinese eat the seeds, believing them to be rejuvenating and aphrodisiacal.
If ever I felt less like a lotus flower, it was in the aftermath of the scandal. I was in muddy water, and I feared there was no way back from such grimy depths of disgrace. I could not trust anyone at all, except for my girls and Andrew, who stuck to me like glue. We are one unit, we are family, and there’s no question about it. After the Fake Sheikh scandal, Andrew was my champion, my total champion. He is steadfast and loyal and true. He has always seen the real Sarah—which is why he still loves me as much as he does. And the girls are extraordinary. They know me, so they also know that the person who became emotionally, mentally, and physically bankrupt was not the person they knew as their mother.
Even so, I felt like I had to change, but I had no idea what to do. I needed to zero in on areas of my life that were falling apart and try to understand why. I knew that I would be stronger for it.
Self-knowledge requires depth, commitment to change, and endurance of what life can put us through. The lotus can offer us a lesson. Instead of beating ourselves up for what we did or didn’t do, we need to see ourselves like the lotus, ascending above the grime toward the sunshine, blooming amid murky water, and emerging unscathed and unblemished from the muddy pond of the world. The sooner we touch base with the immortal lotus within, the more beneficent and mindful we shall be of our actions.
As it has many poets and artists, the flower’s beauty inspired me to write the following poem to my daughters.
I dream that my daughters rise like the Lotus flower. That they grow to have strong and secure roots, to stand tall and steadfast. So that when the rain comes, storms hit, and the dusty winds blow—nothing sticks to their core.
I dream that they face the fears of life, with the calm knowledge of the Divine Light of their own Guide within themselves. To be aware of the Golden energy of their own soul. I dream they take time to realize and know the truth is not outside but inside.
I dream that they don’t live with regrets, that they cannot let either the past or the future rob them, like thieves … of the present day.
I dream that my daughters have courage to be exactly who they are, strong and bold, never to wear a blanket in order to hide the true golden beauty of themselves.
Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We were born to make and manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some; it is in everyone.
And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
I dream that my daughters keep the lotus flower within them always.
I dream my daughters walk with strength as they inspire and lead by example of Goodness, Kindness, Humor, Respect, Dignity, and solid Integrity to themselves.
If they lead with pride and humility, with good intentions, the mirror energy of life will be reflected.
Like the lotus, precious things grow out of places that are not so precious. And so, I set about getting to the bottom of myself, resolving what needed to be resolved. I waded out and jammed my fragile roots into the muddy pond of the world.
From: Marcus
To: Sarah
The people who are the most messed up are the ones who don’t admit it.
Spiritual truth: We all have issues, otherwise we wouldn’t be in these bodies. We’d be flying around in other dimensions where the angels and the righteous live.
Today, when you’re wishing you were like some perfect person you see on TV or in your graduation yearbook or in the mansion on the good side of the tracks, don’t.
No one is better than you. No one is worse. No one.
Marcus
From: Charlie
To: Sarah
My darling Sarah,
Winston Churchill, after the war, was a special guest at a dinner at Oxford. He got to make a speech. For the interminable time of two minutes, he said nothing. Then: “You should never give up! Never! Never! Never! Never!” After this, he sat down. The best speech I have ever heard.
You have been used for certain reasons by certain people. You were working for your cause. You did nothing wrong. I am appalled to see how far the new so-called journalism can go. You are a straight, wonderful human being. In the future, you should be more careful and think everyone could be an enemy. Except me, of course.
With much love,
Charlie
4 Far from the Madding Crowd
> You can take everything away from someone, but you can’t take away their spirit.
AFTER THE SCANDAL, I sought much-needed privacy, but not in the UK. People think London is my home, but in truth I live nowhere, and I live everywhere. In this book you will find me in many places, which is how I live my life. I do not have a home; it is as if I belong to no place. I like to be a nomad, traveling for business or charity work, and go where I feel like going.
But when I do touch down, it is at Royal Lodge, Windsor Great Park, a home bequeathed to Andrew by his grandmother, the late Queen Mother. The Lodge dates originally from the midseventeenth century and is today a thirty-room estate and Andrew’s principal residence. For a time, though, I hid in the darkness of my Royal Lodge bedroom, comforted by the presence of my two daughters.
But I just could not sort my life out in London. I needed a change of place. I telephoned a close friend, Ana Marie Tavares, and asked her if she knew of anywhere I could go to heal, and sit away from “the madding crowd.” Ana tried to get me into a brand-new spa in Phuket, Thailand, but the resort officials put their collective feet down: “We do not want a person like her to come here.”
As you might imagine, it was a hurtful, crushing rejection. Worse yet, I agreed with, and internalized, the rejection, and I felt cursed.
Ana Marie would not, and did not, give up on me, or on her search for a suitable place where I could rest. She located a place in Portugal, Aquapura, and my stoically steadfast and kind assistant Amanda and I set off. You may think of such places as hangouts for the frivolous and indulgent, but many spas are more accurately described as healing retreats: They’ve become modern centers for physical, emotional, and spiritual growth—havens for people who need to regroup, rethink their approach to the world, and rededicate themselves to a healthy lifestyle. And that was exactly what I needed.
Finding Sarah Page 4
