What a Trip to a Small Beach Town in Nicaragua Taught Me

Yesterday, I arrived in a very small beach town known as El Transito. It's the type of place where you take a back road followed by another back road. To say it's a bit off the grid is an understatement.

Last night, I fell asleep on a hammock as a hard rain began to fall drenching both me and my makeshift bed. I tried for hours to fall asleep after finding a dry towel only to be awoken by passing chickens, roosters, and firecrackers. I found myself growing cranky questioning my decision to make the trek so far out of Granada.

But the longer I thought about it  the greater I felt compelled to rein in my discomfort and dial up my gratitude. How many people get to come to a place like this? I thought as a breathtaking show of lightning lit up the evening sky. 

I was exactly where I needed to be and slowly began to appreciate it's the imperfections that make an experience both unique and worthy of a lesson or two.

It's Not Your Problem

The world of an artist has long been associated with adversity. Ask any actor, writer, singer, painter, or dancer how they embellish their latest artistic endeavors to keep the patience of their parents at bay, and you are certain to get some creative stories. Let's face it, being an actor is hard. In addition to the struggles around finding work there is often the need to fend off not only your own doubts but the ones from friends and family who question the validity of your dreams. 

I recognize how fortunate I've been in cultivating a circle of friends who are wildly supportive. They recognize my victories and on occasion voice their admiration. It's not necessary but it' sure is nice to hear from time to time. 

Still, there is a small percentage of people in my life who simply don't get what I'm trying to do. Never have. Never will. Sitting in a cafe for an hour and half to work on a screenplay, or spending a few hours polishing a monologue in a drab black box theater doesn't make much sense to them. It can be hurtful because we naturally want the people closest to us to appreciate our passion - our calling.

But the older I get the more I've learned to lean on those who support and not share my dreams with those who don't. Admittedly, this can be a tricky balance since the latter can come in the form of dear friends, or even family. What I've learned is this:

-- No matter what you do with your life there will never be a consensus that it's time well spent. Even the most conventional paths have doubters as do the folks we associate most with fame, money, and success. We shouldn't judge what we don't understand, but we do. As a result, if you're around a community of people who critique for that reason it's time to find a new one.

-- Second, and most importantly, if someone doesn't appreciate or understand your need to write, paint, dance, act, sing, sculpt, or create IT'S NOT YOUR PROBLEM. It's not your job to be a molder of consensus but to be a master craftsman and share your gifts with those who appreciate them. Doing anything for validation is a no-win game. It's never-ending, unfulfilling, and impossible to sustain. 

Own YOUR path. 

Be selective with those you share your aspirations with. 

And remember, it's not you that's got the problem. 

Let Your Mortality Be Your Ally

I recently heard someone discussing a documentary they'd seen about the history of our planet. To illustrate mankind's relationship to the overall existence of the earth the filmmaker framed time as walking from San Diego to New York City, or 14.6 million steps. Our history would span a mere 3 steps out the Empire State Building. (And remember, that's just the planet earth. It's not even taking into account the infinite number of galaxies) In any event, it's a very humbling explanation.

As far as I can tell, there are two ways to interpret this information. We can either be discouraged, or liberated. We can feel insignificant, that what we do is trivial, and that we're a mere speck of dust just passing by. 

OR, we can learn to not take ourselves so seriously and allow the fact we won't be here very long to propel us to do the things we find important. The latter seems like a much more appealing option.

Actor and producer Keanu Reeves once said, "You're doing to die. Make stuff." Having a close, but healthy relationship with your own mortality can drive you to see, learn, listen, and say the things you feel are of value. Mortality can teach us the importance of being bold, but not reckless and learning to go to the fear.

When you truly appreciate your time's finite nature you begin to protect it in a way you never have before. An awakening to your potential arises, you suddenly feel less fatigued, and you find creative ways to "make each day a masterpiece."

It's Not About Where It'll Get You

When you're a kid you're conditioned to believe if you just work hard enough all your dreams will eventually be realized. As you get older in life you begin to appreciate the undeniable role luck plays in reaching exceptional heights. 

Maya Angelou was once asked about the remarkable qualities leaders like John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr., and Nelson Mandela possessed. She argued they weren't any more talented than you or I, they were just in the right place at the right time and "grabbed on to something."

The point is that we may or may not reach our carefully scripted dreams even if we work incredibly hard and have immense talent. But that alone should not stop us from working hard and putting our best effort towards being better than we were yesterday. 

When we rejoice in hard work and the act of striving for its own sake great things can still happen even if they are not in harmony with what we thought we once wanted.

Explore Different Worlds

In drama school all I read for 3 years were plays, screenplays, history books about theater, and in my free time the biographies of actors I admired. I was kind of a one trick pony.

When I graduated I began to appreciate the importance of diving into books that had absolutely nothing to do with performance. As a result, I cultivated a deeper and richer perspective on many different subjects.

I also realized that ideas cross-pollinate. You might come across the cure to your writer's block, or be able to look at a Monet painting differently for the rest of your life because of something you learned in a science book. It's important to give yourself that opportunity.

When you're feeling burnt out on your creative projects, try taking a step back and exploring a completely different world.

The Importance of Self-Awareness

"I like getting older," my friend Alex told me. We were at our friend Sean's wedding over the weekend and what prompted his comment was an observation made by his better half, Liz. "You grow to appreciate that you can't do everything. And that's okay."

I took her words to heart later that evening. She was right. There's power in giving over to what is just not in the cards. It's not a form of defeat, or complacency, but rather an understanding that we can't be great at everything. You can still dream big and work diligently towards those grand ambitions, while also grounding them with a sense of truth. It's up to you to discover what that means.

I know I'll never play mid-fielder for the Men's US Soccer Team and that's okay. Instead, I have more time to go all in on my strengths and focus on what I'm skilled at doing.

More than One Way to Save a Life

Bigger. Better. More important. We're often conditioned, particularly in Western society, to think in terms of the next best thing. A quick glance at your iPhone touchscreen reveals it's already time to upgrade your apps and software. Didn't I just do that? I often wonder. This notion of thinking also permeates the way we view our chosen career paths.

In a previous blog entry I talked about how success is masterfully doing that which you love to do. But too often, I see people associate their vocations with their sense of self-worth. "I'm not exactly saving the world," my friend joked recently when describing his job.

Doctors in particular are held in high esteem because they do in fact save the world over and over. It just happens to be one person at a time.

But the longer I spend my life creating the more I appreciate that there are many ways to save a life, particularly through artistry.

Though a painting, a book, or a compelling performance on stage can't cure a terminal illness, it can absolutely resuscitate one's soul from a lack of inspiration. It can reconnect one with their sense of humanity however lost it may have been.

What you think, write, create, and say means something. And without realizing it, you may have already saved a life.

Appreciate Instead of Emulate

For many years I fell into the same trap I believe a lot of young actors fall victim to. I devoured the biographies and films of actors like Brando, Dean, and Montgomery Clift. I watched the same interviews over and over hoping to gain greater insight into the aura these actors had created. And though I never tried to emulate them, I believed in order to create great art one needed to suffer, almost immeasurably.

But as I got older I realized that these men also lived profoundly unhappy lives. In many instances, they were held captive by their demons and inability to allow themselves to be who they really were. As as consequence, it seems like deep personal connections and happiness eluded them for most of their years. Great actors yes, but content with life? Not so much it seems.

In time I began to pick up on a few lessons: creative expression is not about martyrdom. It's about bringing our most authentic selves to a stage, a canvas, and film set. It's about expressing who we are at our core without allowing fear to hold us back in telling stories.

I also realized that life would present its own challenges along the way. One didn't need to seek them out. The more life experience one gained the more they'd be able to bring to their artistry. Courage was actually making the effort each day to live a life of fulfillment - a life of good contagion.

I still admire those actors for the work they contributed and their importance to the medium of storytelling. But I've learned to appreciate rather than emulate.