Lessons from a Japanese Convenient Store

Family Mart is essentially an improved version of 7-Eleven but with three noteworthy differences. First, Family Mart has amazing snacks that are presumably healthier than those found in the aisles of say an AM/PM. 

Second, within 600 square feet of space you can buy just about anything you need to live comfortably for the rest of your life. Any place where I can buy a stapler, an umbrella, and a sandwich is okay by me. 

But what stood out the most was the service. Regardless of the time of day (open 24 hours of course), the crowd, or weather, the employees of Family Mart were always extremely polite and professional. They greeted each customer with deliberate intention and energy. Patience was always practiced and as a foreigner I never felt self-conscious about my inability to speak the language. 

It turned out that Family Mart was just the beginning. I paid close attention to how thoughtful the hotel staff was towards its guests. I watched train agents go well out of their way to help commuters find their transfers. The Bullet Train was always on time, literally to the minute. 

And each person, regardless of their occupation or background carried themselves with an almost radiant self-respect. 

What I learned was invaluable:  The meaning of your life and what you choose to do with it has as much value as you decide to give it.  

From businessman to a cashiers there was little distinction to who valued their position more. Commitment and professionalism were integral parts of country's culture.

The Value of Writing a Mission Statement

Years ago, someone suggested I write a personal mission statement. At the time, I didn’t see the value in describing my life’s mission. 

But as time went on I realized my reservations about writing a mission statement were more about my fears of confronting the truth -- that I hadn’t really thought about what my life’s purpose might be.

But the more I read, travelled, volunteered, and found ways to infuse my life with meaning, the more I began to appreciate the value of gathering those experiences and putting them to paper. I decided that my mission statement would be a collection of values, principles, and aspirations that I could refer back to whenever I needed a reminder of WHY I was doing what I was doing. 

I spent several years refining a declaration that was heavily influenced by the authors, speakers, and thinkers I most admired.

I suggest collecting your own ideas and creating a statement. It doesn’t have to be lengthy and you need not share it with a soul. 

It's just a little template for your to refer back to when that path ahead seems less clear or unchartered all together.

Why You Can't Focus on the Numbers

"One of the deepest longings of the human soul is the longing to be seen." 

- John O'Donohue

Year ago I sat on a curb completely dejected after a whopping 3 people had come to see a play I performed in. "What's the point of all this?" I remember asking my friend Sarah. I was young and convinced that a monologue could change the world. So when others didn't share that deeply personal proclamation I was crushed.

As I get older I realize all anybody wants is to be seen. It's an integral part of the human condition. 

But it's also important to cling to our "why" for doing what we do. If our purpose is founded on the need for approval or the number of views, likes, or shares we get the work is simply not sustainable. The impetus to share and create is far too susceptible to outside forces.

But when we place meaning, deeply personal meaning our work takes on a higher calling. We do it first for ourselves which invites a deeper sense of awareness.

In time, we become less likely to be discouraged when others don't share our vision. We push on do the work not because of what it will help us gain but rather what it will help us become.

A Few Quick Questions to Ask Yourself Before Signing with an Agent

If you are in the fortunate position of having to choose between talent agencies there are a handful of questions worth asking yourself:

1. What agencies have clients like you?

If possible, reach out to other actors who are considered your "type." Take em' out for a cup of coffee and pick their brain about the agency and ask about their experience. 

2. How big is the agency?

It's very easy to get lost in the shuffle in a big organization. It may be worth overlooking an agency with a name for one that will give you a little more attention, especially in the early stages of your professional development.

3. What are they known for? (commercials, TV, theater, etc.)

A friend of mine is a terrific stage actress but she also longed to act for the camera. Her agency didn't share her vision and wouldn't send her out on television auditions. 

Make sure your goals and values are in alignment.

4. Are they organized?

This industry can move very quickly at times. You'll want a rep as ambitious and on top of their game and aware of all the upcoming projects you may be perfect for.

5. What are the stipulations of the contract you are signing? Be careful.

Don't allow your excitement to cloud your judgment. Make sure you understand the clauses before you cross any "t's" or dot any "i's." 

Years ago, I had a friend who realized only too late he was locked into a contract with an agent he was not particularly happy with.

A little prep can go a long way.

What Going Back to Korea After 14 Years Taught Me

As a kid, there were three events I could count on each time summer rolled around:

-- summer baseball
-- my mother pulling me from summer baseball to go to summer school
-- visits to Seoul, Korea to visit family

Today, Korea has the 12th highest GDP in the world and has become one of the world's greatest hubs for technology.

But when I'd visit each summer it wasn't such a trendy place. People would ogle my brother and I as we'd amble down narrow streets. The tallest building in the country was 63 stories. And much of our summer were spent re-watching the same films on VHS from the local movie rental store down the street. 

I went back to Korea in 2014 for my cousin's wedding. It had been nearly 14 years since I stepped foot in the city my mother was born in and I recognized very little from my youth of youths. So much had changed. 

Everywhere I turned there was a new skyscraper going up, people everywhere were buried in their fancy touchscreens, and modern speed trains seamlessly ushered commuters to and fro. 

Part of me longed for those old days, while also feeling a sense of pride at the great strides the country had made.

But what makes travel so important, especially when you return to the places you've been before and have managed to capture a part of your soul is it shines a light on how YOU'VE changed as well -- How far you've come and how much you've evolved.

Too often we focus on our hangups, inadequacies, and mistakes. But when pay homage to that person, place, or community we may have taken a sabbatical from and then returned we're reminded of who we were and hopefully who we can still become.

What a World Traveler Taught me About Dealing with Setbacks

Year ago, while working a catering job I struck up a conversation with a gentlemen in his 50s. He'd been away from his Central New York roots for many years and recently returned. The catering job was a way for him to gradually get his footing before figuring out what to do next; a sentiment I'd grow all too well to appreciate in the years to come.

"I been all over the world," I remember him saying. "What have you learned?" I asked. He paused before picking his words carefully. "Your problems follow you wherever you go,"he told me. 

I can't recall a word we said afterwards and would be hard pressed to describe him to a sketch artist but for whatever reason I never forgot his observation. I suppose it's because in the 44 countries I've visited his theory remains infallible.

Just as travel is not the answer to enlightenment it is also not the antidote to one's woes, however small or complicated. Travel can offer a megaphone to the voices within that we so skillfully silence in our day-to-day lives when feeling isn't convenient.

Because you have the time to really think when you're abroad you can begin to take inventory of just about everything in your life -- the ups, downs, and in-betweens. 

It is difficult work but important work. It's also so worth doing. For on the other side comes perspective.

And if we make room for it GROWTH.

Lessons from a Sidewalk Preacher

When I was a young drama student my life essentially spanned from 106th and 122nd Street off Broadway, far from the bright lights and theater marquees of Times Square. On the rare occasions I ventured further south I'd often hear a male voice bellowing at the top of his lungs, “Jesus loves you! Loves you! Loves you! Loves you! Loves you!”  

It took several weeks of hearing this street sermon before I saw the man behind the voice. In my mind he had become mythical, larger than life, a kind of modern day Wizard of Oz. Then one evening the curtain were finally drawn back. 

He stood about 6’2, with a wiry frame, and I'd guess was well into his 70s. When his tattered King James Bible was not clutched against his chest it was held above his head like a mast above a ship. And similarly it seemed to guide his every move.  

As I inched closer to the man few of the folks walking past shared my fascination with this sidewalk preacher. Perhaps they had grown wary of him over the years. Maybe the novelty of living in New York City had lured me to this performance, or maybe he was just the crazy old man in the neighborhood nobody paid any mind.  

Still, there was something about him I found profound even though I couldn’t yet articulate what it was.  

                    

As the years went on I'd continue to hear the same three words spoken over and over, each time with vigor, never with the slightest hint of fatigue.  

How could a man in the final chapter of his life wearing a tired cotton suit in August find the will to continue his work?  

This was the question I desperately needed to answer. In a place known equally for granting dreams as breaking them, a city where slumped shoulders and the visage of defeat were common, here was a light, a victor.  

But how?  

He believed in what he was doing and infused his life with  a sense of purpose.  

It's easy to write off such a man as a fanatic or out of touch with reality. But what is non-debatable is something compelled this man to get up each morning. 

In the end I found his passion honorable.