Many years ago a friend of mine casually strolled into class while blasting his earphones. He took his iPod out of his pocket and placed them in his bag before taking a spot on the floor before the start off class.
Nobody thought anything of it.
My teacher on the other hand stood quietly in the corner taking mental note of a lesson only she could tease out of such a seemingly trivial moment.
"That's the hard part," she said. "To resist the temptation to block out the world."
That was nearly ten years ago.
The temptation to "block out the world" has only grown. Today, there are a plethora of screens we can easily bury ourselves in. We can Post, Tweet, and Pin our little hearts out without coming for air.
The value of silence is no longer honored.
Perhaps its because silence now seems too daunting a task.
But it need not be.
Solitude is different than isolation.
It's in those moments of silence, however brief, we discover we know more than we realize.
And as we dig deeper into that unproclaimed wisdom we can cultivate a deeper and more nuanced curiosity about ourselves and subsequently the world.
Monday, December 25, 2017
Sunday, December 24, 2017
The Land of Should of, Could of, Would of
Carl Jung said, the unfaced and unfelt parts of our psyche are the source of all neurosis and suffering.”
One of the main tenets of Buddhism is to develop a mind that clings to nothing.
And even I've noticed the depth of my happiness is in direct proportion to my ability to accept what is without holding on to past experiences.
So why then, armed with all this knowledge and insight, is it still so hard to do?
Clearly, I have no clue.
But what I have gathered is the importance of not rejecting ourselves when we wander into the land of, Should of, Could of, or Would have. It's a lonely place devoid of reason or solace but our inhabiting that land, however long, shouldn't taint our integrity, will, or desire to ultimately leave this place behind.
Instead, when we embrace that fear does not have to accompany pain we can be wherever we are devoid of ridicule or attacks on our own character.
One of the main tenets of Buddhism is to develop a mind that clings to nothing.
And even I've noticed the depth of my happiness is in direct proportion to my ability to accept what is without holding on to past experiences.
So why then, armed with all this knowledge and insight, is it still so hard to do?
Clearly, I have no clue.
But what I have gathered is the importance of not rejecting ourselves when we wander into the land of, Should of, Could of, or Would have. It's a lonely place devoid of reason or solace but our inhabiting that land, however long, shouldn't taint our integrity, will, or desire to ultimately leave this place behind.
Instead, when we embrace that fear does not have to accompany pain we can be wherever we are devoid of ridicule or attacks on our own character.
Saturday, December 23, 2017
The Art of Not Knowing
I want clarity. I want resolution. I want answers.
The problem with wanting these things is they don't necessarily bring greater understanding. Instead, the constant need to know everything can gradually push us further away from what it means to be human.
What on earth do I mean?
When we know everything we stop asking questions. When stop asking questions we fall into the trap of thinking we know all we need to, which lends itself to complacency and eventually stagnation.
Most of living is in the middle. And living in the middle entails living with pain, unanswered questions, and sometimes no resolution.
Learning to be okay with those realities can be extraordinarily difficult, particularly in a time that celebrates results rather than the path. "Just Google it," is the most common refrain when there's even a millisecond of doubt.
But between doubt and knowing comes wisdom. It's during that often scary interval where we discover what we're made of.
We finally begin to cherish our remarkable capacity to listen rather than speak.
To be vulnerable rather than hide.
And in time, grow comfortable in not knowing.
The problem with wanting these things is they don't necessarily bring greater understanding. Instead, the constant need to know everything can gradually push us further away from what it means to be human.
What on earth do I mean?
When we know everything we stop asking questions. When stop asking questions we fall into the trap of thinking we know all we need to, which lends itself to complacency and eventually stagnation.
Most of living is in the middle. And living in the middle entails living with pain, unanswered questions, and sometimes no resolution.
Learning to be okay with those realities can be extraordinarily difficult, particularly in a time that celebrates results rather than the path. "Just Google it," is the most common refrain when there's even a millisecond of doubt.
But between doubt and knowing comes wisdom. It's during that often scary interval where we discover what we're made of.
We finally begin to cherish our remarkable capacity to listen rather than speak.
To be vulnerable rather than hide.
And in time, grow comfortable in not knowing.
Friday, December 22, 2017
4 Super Simple Questions I Ask Myself to Review the Past Year
2017 Year in Review
1. What did I do, create, or experience this year that I’m really proud of?
2. What mistakes did I make that taught me something? What lessons did I learn that I can leverage for the future?
3. What am I open to letting go of? (beliefs, systems, relationships)
4. Who could I be
if I let go of all the disempowering stories I tell myself?
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Proust on Art
If you get a chance, I highly recommend picking up Alain de Botton's book, How Proust Can Change Your Life. You needn't even be a fan of the French novelist who is perhaps best known for In Search of Time.
What Botton does so brilliantly is skillfully interpret what Proust was trying to get at when he spoke of art, literature, and friendship -- and not solely by what he wrote but by how he lived.
I especially enjoyed how Botton describes Proust's views on art and creativity and how the goal of art is not to merely distract us from our day-to-day lives but affect us in some small way.
Or Proust's belief of what constitutes great works of art:
"Hence Proust's assertion that the greatness of works of art has nothing to do with the apparent quality of their subject matter, and everything to do with the subsequent treatment of that matter."
But what spoke to me most was the importance and key to true expression.
Creativity is about freeing ourselves from the traditional and limited ways of interpreting the world -- to boldly share our perception of humanity the way we see it, however flawed.
What Botton does so brilliantly is skillfully interpret what Proust was trying to get at when he spoke of art, literature, and friendship -- and not solely by what he wrote but by how he lived.
I especially enjoyed how Botton describes Proust's views on art and creativity and how the goal of art is not to merely distract us from our day-to-day lives but affect us in some small way.
Or Proust's belief of what constitutes great works of art:
"Hence Proust's assertion that the greatness of works of art has nothing to do with the apparent quality of their subject matter, and everything to do with the subsequent treatment of that matter."
But what spoke to me most was the importance and key to true expression.
Creativity is about freeing ourselves from the traditional and limited ways of interpreting the world -- to boldly share our perception of humanity the way we see it, however flawed.
Wednesday, December 20, 2017
Make Time for Friends
"buds. bros. are either of you guys around on Tuesday around noon and interested in a brunch / lunch? I'm flying up for a quick trip to see my family."
It only been a few weeks since I'd seen my friend Alex but as the years went our paths crossed less and less. After high school he went to Boston as I headed to Syracuse.
When we graduated from college he moved to New York and I stayed back in Northern California.
When I finally decided to make the leap and move back east for the second time in my relatively young life he moved back to California. For years, he zigged when I zagged. We crisscrossed the country and along the way developed a talent for missing one another.
Spending time together became such a rarity that any chance to meet up, even if briefly, became almost sacrosanct.
Yesterday, he and I decided to meet up with our other close friend, Billy. The three of us took a table by the window of a popular breakfast house nestled in a now trendy part of town.
We talked about the past, future, and everything in-between.
As I get older, I'm always reminded of two things when spending time with close friends:
1. How important it is
2. How much time I spend alone
The truth is, most of my endeavors have lent itself to a consummate sense of solitude. Whether as an actor, writer, or entrepreneur all paths are remarkably solo endeavors.
As a result, it's easy to fall into a rhythm, or worse a sense of comfort in such isolation. The greater danger is how the seemingly infinite ways to contact our friends and family can make it seem like we're actually connecting.
Making the extra effort to meet a friend for a meal, a walk, or a cup of coffee at least twice a week will do wonders for your morale, sense of gratitude and community, and even your productivity.
Even better, you'll be less likely to look back on your life one day wishing you'd spent more time with the people that meant the most to you.
It only been a few weeks since I'd seen my friend Alex but as the years went our paths crossed less and less. After high school he went to Boston as I headed to Syracuse.
When we graduated from college he moved to New York and I stayed back in Northern California.
When I finally decided to make the leap and move back east for the second time in my relatively young life he moved back to California. For years, he zigged when I zagged. We crisscrossed the country and along the way developed a talent for missing one another.
Spending time together became such a rarity that any chance to meet up, even if briefly, became almost sacrosanct.
Yesterday, he and I decided to meet up with our other close friend, Billy. The three of us took a table by the window of a popular breakfast house nestled in a now trendy part of town.
We talked about the past, future, and everything in-between.
As I get older, I'm always reminded of two things when spending time with close friends:
1. How important it is
2. How much time I spend alone
The truth is, most of my endeavors have lent itself to a consummate sense of solitude. Whether as an actor, writer, or entrepreneur all paths are remarkably solo endeavors.
As a result, it's easy to fall into a rhythm, or worse a sense of comfort in such isolation. The greater danger is how the seemingly infinite ways to contact our friends and family can make it seem like we're actually connecting.
Making the extra effort to meet a friend for a meal, a walk, or a cup of coffee at least twice a week will do wonders for your morale, sense of gratitude and community, and even your productivity.
Even better, you'll be less likely to look back on your life one day wishing you'd spent more time with the people that meant the most to you.
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
Lessons from Old Theaters
Whether in New York, Los Angeles, or the San Francisco Bay Area I often find myself seeking out old theaters. Many, like the Fox Theater in Oakland have been resuscitated back to life, while others will keep me longing for a time I wasn’t a part of.
If you look carefully, it’s clear many theaters were once churches and synagogues, which depending on your temperament may make the building’s evolution insignificant.
Some actors already view the theater as a sanctuary; a place of community, vulnerability, and at its best a space where words don’t merely pass the time but shed light on our relationship to it.
I love looking at the upcoming seasons and will even go to a show if I have the time. The productions need not be elaborate, nor the show’s leads placed finely on a bright marquee.
I’m just looking for a little reminder of what once was.
Why?
The longer you do anything the easier it becomes to forget why you fell in love with it in the first place. One gradually dismisses from their mind the butterflies they once felt and the interval between desire and attainment where the love first unfolded.
Being near the theater, any theater, reminds me of the fervor, the enthusiasm, the passion I once couldn’t contain — the excitement I felt that someone would come listen to me help tell a story.
And in those moments of highs and low but mostly in-betweens its easy to overlook that special time in my youths of youths where I essentially needed to be dragged off-stage.
Allowing myself to get back in touch with that young man who was once convinced a monologue could change the world helps me to ponder new ways to do the same.
But most importantly that such a feeling is still possible.
It’s not about living in the past or trying to recreate a moment already lived. To do so would mean moving backwards and overlooking the value of the life before you.
Old theaters are simply a way of reminding myself feeling deeply about something, or someone NEVER goes out of fashion.
What are YOUR old theaters?
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