Some Goals Can Come at Too High a Cost

The first day I arrived in New York City to attend grad school I cried like a little baby. I was convinced I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. Thankfully, just a week later I came to my senses. I was studying the one thing I wanted to do in the greatest city in the world. It was an opportunity I was not going to squander.

My alarm would go off just a little past 5:00 am before I’d slip on my winter coat and make my to the theater. I’d write my name in big easy to read letters on the theater’s sign-in sheet then tiptoe past a sleeping guard to avoid an argument.

“Why do you need to be here so early?” they’d ask.

“I have work to do,” I’d say.

For the next 3 and half hours I worked on monologues, improving my diction, and studied the previous day’s notes. I’d put in nearly an entire day’s of work before class even started. And in my obsessive pursuit of becoming the best actor I could be my determination reaped many rewards but left me bankrupt in what I call the “big picture” arenas of life.

I often chose solitude over community and competition over collaboration. I kept the love and affection of those who loved me most at bay and never honored my victories. I prided myself on not being satisfied and spoke to myself in ways I wouldn’t dream of speaking to another human being. There was no self-love, kindness, or compassion for myself. As a result, it became increasingly difficult to look beyond my own needs.

I was a one-dimensional person.

It took the failure of my romantic relationship and being dropped by an agent to wake me from my stupor. It ended up taking 4 years in total to figure out there was more to life than the perfect headshot.

By the time I’d reached my second full year as a professional actor I’d become so sick of hearing my own voice I desperately sought ways to amplify the ones of others. I started volunteering with high schools, homeless organizations, and even orphanages on the other side of the world.

I spent time with former gang members, kids who didn’t know where their next meal was coming from, and teenagers desperately trying to navigate through adolescence. In the process, I learned far more from them than they did from me.

They taught me there will always be someone who needs help. That love is the only indispensable currency. And the best way to put your own woes into perspective is to try and mitigate those of others.

I wasn’t denting the universe but by making the effort to be of service in some small way I discovered happiness is not a byproduct of professional achievement, but rather pursuing an existence of meaning. And you can’t do that without a sense of service to something greater than yourself.

I also learned that success is all relative. You can make millions of dollars a year, win all the highest awards, but if the people you love don’t know as much all the green paper and crystal trophies in the world don’t mean a thing. You can be rich and still be spiritually bankrupt.

And that ain’t success.

The key is to fill your life with as many meaningful relationships, experiences, and worthwhile endeavors that allow you to mitigate future regret. To seek platforms that test how good you can be, while taking the time to pat your self on the back for a job well done.

But most importantly, it’s about keeping perspective and gauging the risk versus reward ratio. Be honest with what you want and go after it, while making sure it doesn’t come at too high of an emotion and spiritual cost.

Attainment of our goals should be about lifting others up rather than leaving them behind. About BECOMING more instead of merely gaining more.