"These kids really struggle with that...."

Yesterday afternoon I paid a visit to my old high school. An old mentor invited me to speak to her students on what I call, The 4 Truths of Creating Your Own Opportunities. It was an opportunity to give my upcoming TEDx Talk in Cleveland a test run.

When I entered the drama room I saw that virtually nothing had changed. The same cramped office sat in the corner, beat-up sofas lined the stage, and even the lighting was the same. It brought back some fond memories of playing drama games like, Black Widow and Zip-Zap-Zop.

Thankfully the speech seemed to resonate with the students. They asked questions afterwards and we had a great discussion on the importance of creating your own opportunities, building the right philosophy, avoiding toxic people and environments, and working hard without losing perspective. But one subject matter in particular proved to be a sensitive one. When sharing some of my successes as an actor and writer I mentioned the key was learning to fall in love with failure.

"These kids really struggle with that one," my teacher told me. "Everything needs to be perfect with these guys." I saw a few kids smile, while others offered a subtle nod of recognition. 

"It's like anything else," I said. "You have to practice it a lot before you get good at it. And once you learn not to take failure personally you'll learn to just keep moving." I also told the story of how when I was a young actor I wanted all my scenes to go perfectly when a very influential teacher took note saying, "The pursuit of perfection is merely the pursuit of vanity."

She was trying to teach me you don't learn anything when you win all the time.

Know When to Walk Away

As a young drama student I rarely, if ever, understood the importance of walking away from a project to gain a little clarity. I'd just keep hammering away convinced some revelation would strike me as long as I continued muscling my way to a breakthrough.

One of the many great things about getting a little older is recognizing the importance of taking a step back when something isn't working. It doesn't mean it's time to give up or table a project forever but rather that you care enough about the work to bring your best, most aware self to it. 

So if something isn't working, take a step back, go and do something else. You'll be amazed at the clarity you'll bring after a little breather. Ultimately, the quality of our work hinges on the quality of our presence.

Embracing Challenge

Stella Adler once said an artist must be born with a broken heart. Frank Langella remarked, "You act in spite of and not because of your neurosis."

The point being many actors and artists have a heightened sensitivity and delicate relationship with the world. Sometimes challenges seem more amplified because of this temperament. "A blessing and a curse," I've heard some people say.

I have found that great performances often derive from artists who refuse to allow their obstacles to discourage them. Drama, by it's very nature is about resistance - going up against insurmountable odds. And theater is merely a record of that journey told through what we call a story.

If we can learn to view our problems as influential and compelling assets, they may feed the work, while inspiring a deeper understanding of what it means to be human.  

A Strange Thing Happened...

A few years after drama school I began to feel a sense of emptiness. I questioned my work as an actor, even its meaning - two events that had never occurred. Telling stories was all I cared to do since I was a little boy. What did it all mean? I wondered. Who was this all for? Why should the world care? 

Like many young actors, I was idealistic and thought I could change the world with a monologue, or a compelling scene. It was why I wanted to be an actor in the first place; to make some small dent in society by influencing or changing the way one thought.

As I seemed to drift further and further away from this disposition, I found myself willing myself to fall back in love with acting. It sounds strange, but I even resented myself for not wanting to do it. After all, I'd worked so hard to get through a conservatory and made sacrifices to give this dream a real go.

In time, I discovered this hollowness was a result of focusing too much on myself. It was all about me. I was tired of hearing my own voice.

Then I decided to volunteer in my community. First, as a mentor at a high school in Queens. Soon after, I was giving resume workshops at Coalition for the Homeless, making beds at a shelter, and delivering speeches on public speaking. A few years later I was doing similar work in South Africa, Nepal, and Haiti.

When I returned I felt rejuvenated. Service to others had also given me perspective on the bigger picture. I no longer lived and died on each audition. And the funny thing is, I actually became a better actor. Go figure.