We're All Walking Stories

Somewhere, in a cozy middle class home in Hamburg, Germany there’s a mantel with a framed photograph. A couple beams, the man’s arms wrapped tightly around his wife as some famous landmark towers behind them.

The atmosphere seems festive, there’s a balloon that looks to have escaped the grasp of a young boy, a hot dog vendor bellows in the background, and just off in the distance there’s a person sitting pensively on a bench.

Wait, it’s YOU.

Have you ever wondered how many photos around the world you’re in the backdrop of?

The nightstands, desks, and pianos you grace as a supporting character in the memories of complete strangers?

The number of events happening in real time you’ll never know about? The people and the STORIES you’ll never hear told?

How somewhere in Chitwan, Nepal a family celebrates their daughter’s first birthday.

In a cramped Chicago cubicle, a man finally decides to quit his soul-sucking job to travel the world.

Peering through a fence, wondering what the future has in store, is a girl in a Syrian refugee camp.

Two floors below your apartment a single mother gets word her son has overdosed on heroin, while just across the street another mother learns her daughter will be the first in their family to go to college.

In Lahaina, Maui a woman in her 50s cruises downtown on her bicycle to catch the sunset. A man scribbling notes nearby will never know it makes her feel closer to the daughter who will no longer speak to her.

Behind the wheel of Chevrolet Suburban is a young woman fearlessly navigating through the streets of Riyadh even though she knows it’s illegal for women to drive. She doesn’t care. To her unjust laws aren’t laws at all.

On Broadway, the house lights are dimmed because a beloved actor of the stage has died.

InBelgrade, a teenage boy walks along the Danube River as he considers taking his own life.

Somewhere 35,000 feet over the Atlantic, a couple well into their 80s takes their first plane ride.

In Mombasa, a man is shaken down by a corrupt police officer for the third time this month.

Huddled over a kitchen table in a conservative midwestern town, a 19-year man comes out to his parents.

In Tel Aviv, a middle-aged man ambles down Rothschild Boulevard, desperately trying to figure out how to save his marriage.

At a dive bar in Ontario, it takes 5 beers for a man to muster up the courage to ask his friend to be the best man in his wedding.

For the first time in her life, a girl from a troubled home lifts her eyes from the ground because a teacher tells her she’s talented.

In Tupelo, Mississippi a man in his late 60s learns to read.

A teenage boy in Puerto Varas, Chile takes his first sip of beer and hates it. He wonders what all the fuss is about.

A woman in her 50s votes for the first time, finally convinced her community’s future must be different.

Events are happening in real time all over the world, weaving together the stories that comprise our humanity. Every moment of every day there is genuine joy, despair, triumph, tragedy, community, loneliness, injustice, and mystery constantly unfolding.

Each of us is a profoundly interesting and important story worth telling.

We should treat one another accordingly.

This is what you do when she leaves you

“Idon’t want this anymore,” she says.

“You can’t mean that,” you tell her.

“But I do,” she insists.

There’s a conviction in her voice, the likes of which you’ve never heard but always sensed dwelled deep within; the kind of light one stifles out of fear of losing someone.

But now the fear is gone.

My, how the tables have turned.

You almost marvel at the transformation, admire it even, before remembering you want her to stay.

“But I love you,” is all you can think to say as you drop to your knees.

“I love you too,” she says. “But it’s not enough anymore.”

You wonder how such a thing is possible as she grabs her bag and walks out the door.

Now you’re alone.

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

Inexplicably, you grab a kitchen knife. You have no idea why, but it somehow brings relief as you pace up and down your shabby hardwood floors.

You pull out your smartphone and glance at your touchscreen. You start to scroll through names from past lives.

“No.”

“No way.”

“He wouldn’t understand.”

“Definitely not.”

Your breakup suddenly becomes an illumination of who your real friends are.

But you dial a few people anyway and get voicemail after voicemail, wondering out loud if they know what’s just happened.

Maybe they’re ignoring me, you think.

It’s a work night after all and what you have to say will take time, ages in fact.

“Fuck it,” you say. “Who needs em.”

You grab your coat and stomp out of your apartment.

Your first aimless stroll leads to one the next night, then the next, until you’re taking walks every evening, rain, sleet, or snow. On some nights you look like a madman.

You don’t care.

You playback the breakup in your head over and over again, peppering in footage of all your firsts.

The first time your hands met

The first time you kissed

The first, “I love yous.”

The first time you made love

The first time you talked about the possibility of being each other’s last

It’s all too much.

---

Now, you start to agonize over all the things you could have done differently.

How you could have learned her friends’ names.

How you shouldn’t have dragged her to all those crappy sports bars.

How you should have called instead of texted.

How you should have taken Valentine’s Day more seriously.

How you could have lied in bed longer when she begged you not to leave.

How you could have told her more often how pretty she looked, talented she was, and how much you admired her.

You regret not admitting how much your love for her actually scared you and realize that very vulnerability might have saved your relationship.

Girls love that stuff, you think.

But it’s too late.

---

Then something shifts.

You feel a tempest brewing within.

You start to curse her name.

You try and convince yourself you’re better off without her, or anyone, or love at all.

You regret the day you met her.

You stop using the bag she bought you for your birthday.

You delete her number from your phone even though you know good and well you’ll know it until the day you die. This offers you a fleeting moment of solace. What if? you think before stopping yourself.

Back to work.

You bury photos of her, but for some reason won’t ruin them.

Something, even in your unsound state, tells you that would be irrational.

You start to binge on late 90s sitcoms.

You dread how every corny love song suddenly seems as profound as some sacred ancient scroll.

You can’t even look at another girl.

You fall deeper and deeper into some abyss, certain you’re the only person in the world whose ever experienced such heartache.

Things are bad.

You can’t remember the last time you felt such despair.

Then one morning, after what feels like thousands, your heart aches just a little bit less.

At first, the contrast is almost undetectable. But it’s there. You’re sure of it.

It has to be.

You continue to take your long strolls but for the first time in ages you lift your gaze from the pavement.

You start to eat better.

Sleep better.

Think better.

You decide to quit drinking completely.

You get a gym membership.

And gradually, you begin to show some semblance of who you once were.

Only better.

---

Then, something you didn’t think was possible happens.

You start to connect with people again. Real ones.

You even push yourself to date again.

You hang out with mutual friends of your ex and hear her name in passing. But it’s okay. It stings, but no longer destroys you.

You feel your temperament gradually shift to one of enlightenment, spirituality, of wanting to know more about the world and the role you may play in it.

You send her well wishes.

You even pray for her. What?! You never pray!

Then one day it ALL hits you.

Letting her go is the only thing that will make you whole again.

You silently thank her for ushering in that consciousness.

You realize how falling in love once is still once more than most of the world.

You feel lucky.

You ARE lucky.

You’re suddenly grateful this remarkable woman came into your life, however briefly.

You hope that she’s happy. It’s a sentiment you once found hokey but for the first time feel it in your bones.

You truly, genuinely, sincerely, unequivocally, absolutely want her to be happy.

You want it more for her than you do for yourself.

Maybe that’s what love really is, you think.

You love her. Always will.

And your togetherness, or lack there of, has no bearing on that truth.

Finally, you discover there’s no such thing as the right girl at the wrong time.It’s all nonsense, you think. It all happened the way it needed to.

Why?

Because this woman, this exceptional Being, helped you evolve into the man you couldn’t be for her.

That’s something, you think.

This is what you do when she leaves you.

---

Confronting Ugly Truths

But by challenging my assumptions, I realized you sometimes have to confront ugly truths about yourself. And by doing so you can begin to rectify your shortcomings.

This is the first step to elevating above your imperfect self to a slightly improved version of your imperfect self.

New York vs. Los Angeles: How to Choose

A few years ago, I received a frantic call from a friend. For months he’d been mulling over whether to stay in New York or give acting a go in Los Angeles. 

“I love New York,” he said. “But I want to do more TV and film.”

For many actors, there are fewer decisions more agonizing than figuring out which coast will better suit their pursuit of an acting career. 

And the more people you ask, the less certain you become.

Ultimately, you have to decide where you think you have the best chance of fulfilling your goals as an actor. Of course, it never hurts to be diligent in your research.

Here’s my take on the pros and cons of each market:

New York pros:

It’s New York! One of the most vibrant and unique cities on the planet. There’s an endless stream of inspiration to draw from.

New York is populated by millions of ambitious people who come to be the best in their chosen fields. Complacency is not an option in this town, which can motivate you in positive ways.

Opportunities to hone your craft are easy to find. There’s always a reading, workshop, play, or student film happening somewhere in the city.

New York is still the mecca of theater. Well beyond the bright lights of Broadway are hungry artists telling bold and compelling stories in dimly lit black box theaters and makeshift artist spaces.

The densely populated metropolis makes building creative alliances easier; community is already all around you.

New York cons:

This place ain’t cheap, which can make hanging your hat in the Big Apple a doozy. As remarkable a city as New York is, everything is tougher: the weather, the breakneck pace of daily life, and the cost of living.

There are several episodic series and films shot in New York every year but remember: it’s still a theater town. If your sole focus is television or film, New York may not be your best bet.

Depending on your goals, you may start to feel the industry in New York has a ceiling. One can only appear on “Law & Order” so many times. And though there are pilots regularly filmed here, the limited number of productions means there’s less opportunity.

Los Angeles pros:

New York pales in comparison to the amount of TV and film being shot in L.A. If the silver screen is your first love, Los Angeles will likely be your next mailing address.

A far more interesting city than it gets credit for, Los Angeles is a wildly diverse and stimulating place with a great deal to offer well beyond casting calls. And contrary to what many people believe, there are some respectable and interesting theaters in and around town like the Red Cat and Pasadena Playhouse.

Sunshine and beautiful beaches may not seem like a hard sell but the atmosphere can lend itself to a healthier mindset. Make no mistake: you must work hard in Los Angeles but the town’s temperament, if used sensibly, can contribute to living a more well-rounded and grounded lifestyle.

You can’t turn a corner without running into an actor, writer, or producer (or at least someone who claims to be), which can make collaboration easy. Just make sure you surround yourself with a tribe of like-minded, productive, and focused people.

Los Angeles is home to some of the top film schools in the world. Many of these promising students go on to do big things but before their Oscar acceptance speeches, they shoot lots of films. Films need actors. You’re an actor. See where this is going?

Los Angeles cons:

Community. There’s that word again. Simply put, you need a car in L.A. I suggest a list of great audiobooks and a very comfortable driver’s seat because the two of you are going to become fast friends. Community exists, but unlike New York, it’s up to you to seek it out.

Because Los Angeles is so spread out, it means your auditions will be as well. I’ve had auditions in Culver City, West Hollywood, and even Brentwood. Unlike New York where many of your auditions are often within a seven or eight block radius, you’ll need to allow yourself more time than you think to get to each audition.

There are a lot more projects being shot in Los Angeles, but there are also a lot more actors. A simple breakdown for say, a co-star role can literally receive thousands of submissions. It can be a grind to cut through the noise unless you have a top-tier agency.

Even then, it’s no guarantee you’ll be seen.

It’s a lot to consider, but try not to get discouraged. I suggest giving some serious thought to the type of work you want to pursue as an actor. 

If it’s the theater that beckons, New York is your town. 

If your dream is to work with J.J. Abrams, Los Angeles is probably your best option.

Most importantly, consider the quality of life you want to have when you’re not bouncing from one audition to the next. 

Where you call home significantly impacts the way you approach your career. 

As simple as it sounds, live and work where you think you’ll be happiest.

                  *** This article was previously published for Backstage Magazine

Changing Focus

When I returned to New York, I began to look at everything differently. Namely my time.

I decided I needed to spend it differently.

And it was this single decision that offered an invitation to answer the most pressing questions in my life.

My days were now about optimizing as many good choices I could make as possible. If a project didn’t offer value or wasn’t personally rewarding, I questioned its utility.

I also tried to deepen and sometimes rectify meaningful relationships, while moving past the ones that were toxic.

In the process, I befriended my mortality and cultivated a healthy relationship with death.

Appreciating my eventual demise liberated me.

Blaming Conditioning is Not the Answer

For too long, poor conditioning has led to many men’s deepest selves to be muted, relationships to be confined, failures linked to self-worth, and a skewed perception of behavior that is acceptable, and more importantly, what is not.

But blaming conditioning is not the answer.

Inquiry is.

By examining how traditional norms of masculinity have helped disguise our true portraits we can liberate ourselves from thinking that is out of date. In time, we can redefine for ourselves what masculinity could be.

Ideas

Ifyou doubt art has played a role in this Renaissance of innovation and think creative expression belongs only in drab black box theaters, take a closer look.

If for example, you own a MacBook, you are the proprietor of an idea, not a product.