Be More Intentional

This week I've seen a real clarity in my work. I credit a new technique I learned and have been trying to implement into my daily routine. 

Before each task I ask myself two questions:

1. What is my intention for doing this? 
2. How do I want to feel when doing it?

Think about how often we just go through the day on autopilot, rarely taking the time to question why it is what we do. For years the lack of examination caused me to keep busy without questioning for a moment if what I was doing had any value.

By asking yourself those two simple questions (which takes literally 2 seconds) you prime yourself before tackling your objectives. If it connects with a broader and deep-seated "why," you're driven to do the best work you can. 

And when you condition yourself to feel energized, optimistic, or driven before the work you're more likely to see it through. 

Setting your intention and priming your mind are incredibly powerful techniques for doing your best at work that matters. 

Crowded Theaters

I love crowded theaters. The other day I went to see a film on a rainy and cold afternoon. I thought for sure the inclement weather would discourage moviegoers.

When I arrived at the theater I was pleasantly surprised to discover scores of people waiting for the same film I planned to see. There wasn't an empty seat in the house and by the film's conclusion nobody wanted to leave. "They can't end it that way," I heard a gentlemen whisper a few rows behind me.

Crowded theaters are a reminder that storytelling still matters. It's the fabric of the human condition that weaves us all together. 

Keep listening, telling, and making them. Our sense of community depends on it.

Taking Ownership

Last night I attended a wedding celebration in San Francisco in a part of town commonly referred to as SOMA. (South of Market) The ride there was not as seamless as I'd hoped. The rain poured down mercilessly and my digital map had a mind of its own.

When I finally arrived it was a completely different world. Everyone was dressed stylishly devouring the comfort foods of my friend Jason's native Louisiana.

I spent much of the evening speaking with a very kind young woman who'd traveled all the way from Washington D.C. We spoke at length about photography and her love for the medium. "I like photography too," I chimed in. "Do you shoot?"

I then noticed a familiar reluctance to take ownership of a craft she took great joy in. I'd noticed even within myself a growing apprehension over the years to talk about acting, particularly among people advancing in careers one might consider more conventional. It was something I'd never felt when I was a young actor. I practically beamed when I told people about the shows, monologues, or scenes I was working on.

I later realized, how you speak about what you do can actually inform how you do it -- that it's important to take ownership and pride in what you do even in the face of misunderstanding, or ridicule.

As long as it matters to you -- It Matters.

A Tricky Hump to Get Over

As I got further and further into my acting career, one of the challenges I began to wrestle with most was how my work would be received by the world. As a young actor, there was rarely a moment where I doubted the influence I had delivering a Shakespeare monologue, or a scene from Pinter. I was presumptuous and wildly naive.

As I became more experienced, I realized not everyone cared about the work I'd put into bringing a character to life, or the stories I so desperately wanted to tell. And looking back on it, I wonder what I expected of people. Did I really believe the spotlight, both literally and figuratively should always shine on me? Who did I think I was?

Still, it proved a difficult hump to get over for a long time. Though my hangups may have been rooted to some degree in selfishness, my intentions were also earnest. I simply wanted to share my passion with anyone who'd listen.

What I forgot was the work first needed to matter to me. It was that level of authenticity to myself and my creativity that had first drawn people in. And because for so many years the work was inherently meaningful, I wasn't so disheartened when others didn't share my sentiments.

It's a bummer when the house lights go on and you see scores of empty seats. If you're an actor long enough it'll happen more often than not.

But what's important is to remember why the work matters in the first place. If it resonates with you and you still feel it matters than you'll learn to take the ambivalence of others less personally.