This is the Only Moment that Matters

During my second year of grad school a handful of actors in my class performed Shakespeare sonnets one evening. The assignment was optional and I remember being surprised by how few wanted to do it. Shakespeare felt daunting for a lot of us but I still thought it'd be worth doing even though I was petrified.

I sat in the front row before my performance repeating the words, "This is me," over and over. I must have looked like a mad man to the 10 or so people in the audience. But the words had a calming affect on me. They centered me and reminded me that all that mattered was the moment I was in.

The weeks before one of my most important mentors had been harping on society's inability to be present. We focus on what was, or what one must do in the future and rarely take the time to acknowledge what is happening before us.

Her argument was, presence is the foundation for truthful storytelling. If we don't listen we can't respond. If we can't respond authentically to what is happening right before us the audience tunes out refusing to invest in the actor's artifice.

Admittedly, I've lost touch with that idea over the years. Not always. But from time to time I've felt myself saying, "Go, go, go," rather than "Here, here, here." But those moments I do check back in (which I'm trying to do a great deal more of) are the only truthful moments of my day. 

To check-in with yourself and really take personal inventory of how you're feeling is the most important thing you can do. It's the foundation from which everything else originates. To remind yourself that, THIS is the only moment that matters.

I'd even take my mentor's philosophy that presence is the not only the foundation for truthful storytelling but also for the most authentic of human experiences. 

Speak to Strangers

A few months back I hopped into a cab to go the airport. The driver was cordial and asked if I could help him navigate down the dark and windy roads that would lead us back to the freeway.

I spent many years hailing cabs back in New York. I discovered it's like any other dance between two human spirits – two strangers feeling each other out, gauging if one cares much to talk or sit in solitude. The morning rides in particular leave a fog, a sort of haze making it difficult to decipher reality from a dream. 

In the end, we did talk. We spoke about family, work, and the merciless pace of time. We got along well and I wondered if in another life we might have been good friends. He was a gentle soul who seemed to have a delicate relationship with the world; two things I could relate to.

The ride was quick and uneventful, which is to say it was fine. When we got to the arrival curb I paid him and wished him well. He drove off into the still dark morning as I wheeled my bag through the automatic doors to a brightly lit kiosk. I'll likely never see that man again, but somehow felt better of than I was before. Being human is about connecting regardless of time and space.  

Speak to strangers.

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.  

Read Widely

By most accounts, I was a pretty good kid growing up. I never had much interest in getting into trouble, sparing my parents a headache or two.

This is not to say I was the perfect son by any stretch. One source of great anxiety for my mom and dad was my refusal to sit still and finish a book. I'd never seen my father come so close to weeping as he tried everything short of a seance to get me to fall in love with literature.

It took some time, but their efforts paid off. Books have become something I can't live without. They also played a very important role in making me a better actor.

By reading widely I was able to consider perspectives wildly different from my own. When taking on new projects, I began to think as a playwright, director, or producer might. Characters now leaped from the page becoming three-dimensional.

Discovering more about science, history, philosophy, and current events enabled me to connect a heightened sense of humanity to the plays and scripts I read. I began to rely less on just my technical training as an actor and get more in touch with what it really meant to be human.

Books pushed, stretched, and nudged me to think bigger.

They've served me well in my pursuit to become a great storyteller and beyond.