Lessons from a Hong Kong Airport

I've been to 45 countries, lived in several cities, and probably been on hundreds of planes. But for many years I was deathly afraid of flying. I just didn't let it stop me. I don't know exactly when that fear creeped up on me. I suppose it happened gradually as I got older. I started to question how an object weighing 370 tons could soar through the air at 500 mph. And rather than allowing myself to be led by curiosity I chose fear.

Then one day my mom told me something that completely reframed how I looked at flying. For years, she was a flight attendant for Cathay Pacific Airlines. She had some funny stories to share like the time an elderly woman attempted to open the emergency door during a flight. "What are you doing?" my mom asked. The woman looked at her and said, "I'm hot."

Because my mom was based in Hong Kong her flights departed and returned to Kai Tak Airport. With Hong Kong's countless skyscrapers and mountains just north of the runway stretching in to Victoria Harbor, landings were not for the faint of heart. It required a demanding type of focus and precision for the pilots. In other words, you couldn't really have an "off day" when landing in Hong Kong. 

All this to say my mom had developed a real sense of poise when it came to flying so when she saw that I would constantly get worked up over a little turbulence she said, "Just think of it like driving on a dirt road. There's just a few bumps along the way."

Those simple words put me at ease and I haven't looked back since. I still marvel at how malleable our minds are and how we have a choice in the way we process information. If we frame it in a way that is advantageous we can completely rethink and rewire how we approach our greatest fears, ambitions, and even our relationship to ourselves. 

Thinking Without Thinking

I recently finished reading Malcolm Gladwell's book, Blink. I remember enjoying it a great deal when I first read it several years back. A course I'm teaching in a few weeks required I familiarize myself with the work again. 

Not surprisingly, I stumbled upon many insights I'd completely overlooked or forgotten since the last time I read the book. But one part felt especially poignant in this day and age of limitless and readily available information. 

Gladwell argues when it comes to making thoughtful decisions information is not the key but understanding of that information. When we have too much data on any given topic it becomes more difficult to see the forest for the trees. We're crippled with indecision. 

He then referred to an interesting observation by the father of psychoanalysis himself, Sigmund Freud who takes how we're taught the think about decision-making and flips it on it's head. 

Freud contends that when it comes to making decisions that are deemed less important we should think deliberately, carefully weighing the pros and cons of each outcome. But when it comes to big decisions he argues the opposite:

"When making a decision of minor importance, I have always found it advantageous to consider all the pros and cons. In vital matters, however, such as the choice of a mate or a profession, the decision should come from the unconscious, from somewhere within ourselves. In the important decisions of personal life, we should be governed, I think, by the deep inner needs of our nature."

In other words, when it comes to matters of the heart trust yourself. You somehow already know.

The Beauty of Having Doubts

Doubt is an unavoidable part of a rich life.  But there's also an important distinction between having uncertainties about your career, and wanting to do something completely different with your life. The distinction is not always clear. If your deepest core still believes your dream is important then fight like hell for it. Conversely, if your heart is trying to tell you that it’s time for a new journey, I encourage you not to deny that calling. Doing so might mean closing yourself off to new and worthwhile opportunities, which may add great value to the lives of others. Remember, doubt can be an opportunity to redefine your ambitions, or recalibrate your current ones.

You can also reinvent the role art plays in your life. For example, when acting began to slowly take a less prominent role in my life I turned to other outlets such as writing and coming up with creative solutions to problems in my community. Both were forms of artistry that allowed me to express myself in equally meaningful ways. Moving on to new endeavors is less of a farewell then a different way of expressing your imagination.  Remember what Peggy Taylor said, “Creativity is not found just in the chosen few who exhibit artistic talent. 

 

"The Greatest Tragedy of All is Not the Reality of Failure but the Loss of Hope."

Over the years I've seen way too many talented actor and artist friends equate their self-worth with a resume, or IMDB page. And it absolutely breaks my heart. 

Most of us would agree that if you go into the arts in the first place there is a burning desire to express one self that is often accompanied by an equally powerful need for validation. The trouble is, validation from others is not sustainable. It has to come from within. 

We need to change the metrics of how we gauge self-worth and success. We don't have to overlook the impact we can have at home, in our schools, churches, or communities. That counts too. 

In time, a beautiful thing begins to happen. We start to reframe the way we see everything, including failure. We no longer fear it but accept it as an integral part of a longer and broader journey. We learn to take it in stride and in the process recognize the importance of protecting our spirits. We remain hopeful. 

And that is the starting point for great art. 

You Don't Need to Share Your Dreams with Everyone

There's a famous story about a woman who sold fax machines door-to-door for 7 years. After work, she'd rush home and work on a dream she'd slowly been developing that struck her one evening before heading off to a party. She toiled away working late into the night and on weekends. This went on for years and years.

Eventually, her family wanted to know what it was that had been keeping her so busy. After a year or so she finally revealed to her mother what'd she'd been up to.

Why did she wait a so long to share this ambition that burned so passionately within? Because she knew her mother would try to talk her out of it. 

That woman's name is Sara Blakely who is the founder of a little company called Spanx. And by last count Mrs. Blakely is worth just over $1,000,000,000.

We don't always, and in some cases shouldn't, share our dreams with everyone. 

Often times the people closest to us, who also claim to have our best interests at heart, will crush a dream, or worse a spirit.

This may be a stretch for some, but I believe people's attempt to talk you out of something you yearn to do can be a form of bullying -- a tactic of intimidation utilized by projecting fear, doubt, and bitterness on to you. 

Protect your dreams fiercely. Share them only with like-minded people who support your vision, believe in you, and will hold you accountable to take the action steps necessary to get you closer to where you want to be. 

Choose your Brain Trust wisely. 

Letter to a Young Actor

Hey Ross,

Really great speaking with you today my friend. Always good catching up. I just wanted to reiterate how important I think it is to enjoy the moment you're in. Of course, it's always important to do as much, but looking back when I was your age just a few years removed from grad school, I now realize what a remarkable time it was despite what seemed at the time to be insurmountable odds.

When I first graduated from Columbia University almost 7 years ago now, I had the great fortune of being courted by top agents like Abrams and William Morris. I was being called in by all the big casting directors and auditioning for major roles on TV and some interesting pilots. It was an exciting time. 

I was also going through a great deal of personal challenges. I had just left a program that I was in love with and ended a relationship with a girl I loved even more. It took me a long time to get my footing. Still, I kept busy and often didn't even have time to consider the whirlwind I was on.

Despite often carrying a heavy heart and an equally burdensome sense of self-doubt, I forced myself to interact with the world. I stayed as productive as I could trying new things, meeting new folks, and stretching myself. I wrote even if poorly. I got involved with tiny theater companies even if I wouldn't want to be caught dead on some of the stages. I read incessantly about everything from acting to science, to politics, to history. It was a very introspective time and when I look back on it, an incredibly important turning point in my own personal development.

I started to make new friends and move away from some of the ones I had maybe used as a crutch in graduate school. I picked myself up and began dating again, sometimes with people I had nothing in common with but still felt it important. I was hungry for exploration in every conceivable corner of New York, the world, and even my mind; wherever and whenever I could find it responsibly was what motivated me.  

Soon, it became far less about acting then it did about living fully, honestly, openly, and inquisitively. It became about asking more questions of the world and subsequently myself, while being okay with not getting the answer I wanted to hear or often any at all.

When I look back on that time I cannot help but smile. It was a remarkable time. It was profoundly painful, confusing, funny, joyous, difficult, victorious, frustrating, beautiful, sad, and dare I say glorious. Half the time I didn't even know what I was doing even when I was convinced that I did. 

My point is the world is unpredictable and often particularly fragile to the temperament of an artist. We take things more personally, we refuse to wear our heart anywhere but on our sleeves, and we want for whatever crazy reason to share our lives on stage, in front of the camera, and through our voices. None of this is normal. 

But what is normal and universal is the human condition. Nurture it with as many valuable experiences as possible. Don't be afraid to fail big because you will. Don't be afraid to have your heart broken because you will. Don't be afraid to feel like nothing you're doing is working because it often won't. Don't be afraid to not know. In fact, embrace it. I once heard it said, "Knowing everything is the enemy of the human spirit." And to completely contradict all of that advice, don't be afraid to be afraid.

I encourage you to challenge yourself as an actor, but far more importantly in ways that will slowly inch you towards the man you dream of becoming despite it being impossible. It is the pursuit of that goal which is the entire point. Put yourself out there as much as possible. I think the greatest tragedy would be to look back and not say, "I wish I became a movie star, or a Broadway star, or even famous." No, I think the greatest tragedy would actually be looking back and saying, "Damn, I wish I enjoyed all of that a little more. I wish I had more fun."   

In the words of Robert DeNiro, one of my heroes, "Be brave, but not reckless." Be young, be free, be life. I believe in you brother and wish you great luck now and beyond.

Best,

Nick

Excerpt from the book, To the Prospective Artist: Lessons from an Unknown Actor 

No WiFi

Yesterday during a soggy afternoon, I sauntered into a cafe. It was a coffee shop nestled in the heart of downtown I'd driven past many times. From the outside it looked like a great little spot to enjoy a cup of tea and get some work done. I decided to park my car and finally check it out.

When I stepped inside I was not disappointed. The dins of jazz played just loud enough,  I was inspired by the different groups meeting together for projects that looked both interesting and meaningful, and even the temperature of the room was perfect.

I stepped to the counter and glanced at the large black board listing all the food and different drinks they served written in chalk. They even had my favorite tea.

Just as I was about to order I looked up and read a sign that said, "Sorry. No WiFi." That's not gonna work, I thought to myself and left.

I got into my car disappointed searching earnestly for a new place to plop down and type away. But after just a few minutes I felt a gradual shift in my thinking.

I now appreciated how the cafe was committed to creating a very specific type of community. Rather than a place where the first thing you saw upon entering was a flotilla of laptops and plugged-in patrons, this establishment opted for an environment where people would have to connect in person - to talk and take on tasks that required a more personal kind of interaction.

We all have the capacity to change our communities and environments in some small way by making seemingly insignificant choices.