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All the World's a Stage: Life Lesson #4

10/31/2014

Life Lesson #4: Give Yourself What You Need To Do Your Best

If you missed any previous posts in this series, you can find Life Lesson #1: Show Up With What You Have and Use It Well HERE, Life Lesson #2: Everyone Matters HERE, and Life Lesson #3: Be Playful and Laugh at Yourself HERE.

This play was the first production I've done while working full time in Boston and it was a huge learning experience, to say the least. I tried all kinds of new tricks of the trade to try and allow myself the sleep, food, and rest that I needed during the rehearsal and run (see post on surviving teach week HERE). My intentions were good, but I definitely fell off the "maintain balance" wagon more than a few times during this process.

One thing I was pretty strict about though, was eating and drinking enough to keep me going onstage. The thought of putting on a corset (they're not as comfortable as they might look) and working out my diaphragm with nineteenth century speak in front of a full house without having drank any water all day was a thought that was very effective in motivating me to keep my water bottle full during my day job and make sure I was hydrated. Similarly, I was borderline obssessive about making sure I had a banana and protein bar in my bag at all times, so if I needed a quick bite half an hour before curtain, I'd have something to reach for.

What else does an actor need? A good physical and vocal warm-up, some reliable deep breathing exercises, and as much sleep as you can get, not to mention a good imagination and solid training. If you were missing any of these elements: food, water, warm-ups, sleep, imagination or training, you would expect your performance to suffer. It seems logical that to be our best onstage, we have to give ourselves what we need to try to accomplish that.

But what about life offstage? Why is it that as an actor we won't skip a warm-up, but as a human being we are willing to go weeks without giving ourselves what we need to feel our best? It's like we are baking a cake and forgot the eggs, and then we stop and wonder "Hmm, I wonder why the cake didn't turn out right?" This is an oversimplification for sure, but I think it's worth reflecting on.

Baking pie is consistently part of my "life diet"

Over the past few years, I have been mulling over the idea of a "life diet". No, not the type of diet that counts calories or carbs, but one that takes into account the true definition of the word "diet". According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, diet is " the kind and amount of food prescribed for a person or animal".

In my mind, a "life diet" consists of the sum total of physical nourishment, creative endeavors, social interactions, and spiritual practices that we faithfully incorporate into our daily routines that help us to feel like ourselves. I find that basic physical needs like food, water, and sleep are not enough for me to feel like I am thriving--what about the things or experiences that feed my soul? When we give ourselves permission to listen to our favorite music, watch a movie we love, or even bake the chocolate cupcakes we've been craving, we do ourselves a huge favor. In not depriving ourselves of one ingredient that we know is crucial to our most content and joyful selves, we actively participate in the creation of our lives.

I know this from experience. I've gone through times in my life where I feel wretched, not just physically but emotionally, creatively, and spiritually. What's wrong with me? I rack my brain trying to figure out why I haven't been feeling much joy or inspiration. Then it dawns on me: I've gone a couple of months without reading a really good book. Seriously, that's all it is sometimes. For me, having a really good story to get lost in can make all the difference in the world in terms of how I feel. Once I start to try to reincorporate some like a book back into my "life diet", I usually start to feel things get better. It's like prescribing soul medicine for yourself.

At this very moment, the top ingredients I need to put back into my life diet are:
1. unscheduled time with my husband on the weekends
2. taking the time to cook and eat homemade meals
3. stretching
4. re-watching some of my favorite film versions of Shakespeare
5. more time walking around the city without having a place to go

If you feel so inclined, share the top five ingredients of your "life diet" in the comments! It's different things and proportions for everyone, so it's not about using a cookie cutter recipe, but figuring out what yours is. It's impossible to include all the ingredients, all the time, but perhaps this weekend, we can give ourselves one that's been missing lately?

Join me tomorrow for Life Lesson #5: Get Comfortable With Fear.

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All the World's a Stage: Life Lesson #3

10/30/2014

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Life Lesson #3: Be Playful and Laugh at Yourself.

Welcome to Day 3 of the series on life lessons from the theatre! If you missed the first two posts, you can find Life Lesson #1: Show Up With What You Have and Use It Well HERE and Life Lesson #2: Everyone Matters HERE.

The Good, the Bad, the Ugly, and Everything in Between
This photo, folks, is of yours truly during a recent performance. A selfie was written into the script and one of my lovely fellow actors was kind enough to send this to me after we closed the show. I had no idea a photo was actually being taken each night, so this face is not staged. My fifteen year old aspiring actor self would have been mortified to see this. Back then, being an actor meant always looking beautiful and graceful, never silly. One of the first things I was taught in college about acting is that you can not be afraid to look ugly or awkward. In fact, the more you try NOT to look awkward or ridiculous onstage, the more likely it will be that you will.

Try watching a Saturday Night Live or Jimmy Fallon skit and notice which actors are truly funny and effective in their roles, and which ones don't get as many laughs. I can bet you that most of the time, the actors that aren't as funny are trying too hard not too look silly. You have to be vulnerable when you perform, whether you're doing a drama or comedy and this often this means letting your hair get messed up, your voice crack, or taking a risk.

Not your typical selfie.

Resilience
I have always harbored a secret fear of warm-up games. I have always understood their purpose in breaking the ice, getting to know your fellow actors, and even finding a connection between the games and rehearsal. Still, I must confess that I have long harbored a fear of making a mistake or being perceived as "being bad" at the game. It's hard trying to be playful when you become physically and emotionally resistant. And let's be honest, as a wise friend once said "You better get used to making mistakes. You're going to make a million of them." It's true, striving for perfection is a maddening and impossible task. And in the theatre, perfection can be boring.

This time around though, I fell in love with our warm-up games. It was so refreshing to make a mistake, share a good belly laugh with everyone, take a deep breath and try again. And again. And again. In fact, it was downright cathartic to make a mistake, acknowledge it, but then just move on! You won't get struck by lightening or be ridiculed out of the theatre when you forget to hop like a bunny in a warm-up game, and you might even find you feel more open with people after you share a few rounds of "Yee-haw!" or "Bippity Bippity Bop" (find instructions for versions of these games here and here). After this play, I will never skip warm-up games in any rehearsal or workshop I teach. Children need to be taught that it's ok to make mistakes from an early age, and we adults need that reminder all over again.

So what does this willingness to be playful and laugh at yourself have to do with anything besides theatre, you ask? I think it's interesting to think of the possibilities for infusing our lives offstage with the humor and resilience we use in a rehearsal and performance.

What would happen if I was more playful with my family or my co-workers? No, I'm not going to break into a game of "Yee-haw!" at the office, but could I learn to be more resilient when I make a mistake? I think there's a lot of opportunity to be more forgiving with ourselves and not look at every mistake as the end of the world (I need this advice more than anyone). I could try to be gentler with myself after a miss and be willing to breath and move on without hammering myself with too much blame.

We need play every day, and research is now catching up with this idea, proving the need that children and adults have to do something that is purely FUN. I'm even interested to see if I can be more playful with tasks that aren't as much fun...can I put on some music and make a game out of sorting clothes? I'm not sure, but what's the harm in trying?

What's your playful activity of choice? If you need help getting started, here's a couple of good resources:
The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron HERE (one of my favorite books of all time for sparking creativity)
The Artist's Way for Parents by Julia Cameron HERE (she's also got a brand new version for parents!)
The importance of play for ALL article in NY Times HERE (that's right, there's proof we need play!)

Next up tomorrow is Life Lesson #4: Give Yourself What You Need To Do Your Best

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All the World's a Stage: Life Lesson #2

10/29/2014

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Life Lesson #2: Everyone Matters

Thanks for visiting my little series on life lessons from the theatre! Each day I'll share a new idea or insight I've had during this production that is giving me food for thought on how to approach my life offstage. If you missed the first post, you can find Life Lesson #1: Show Up With What You Have and Use It Well HERE.

During my time in college, all the performance and technical theatre majors were required to spend a certain number of production hours working in an area that was not their focus. That's how I found myself, a performance major, suddenly painting sets, searching for props for a play set in the 1960's, and organizing the scenic shop during a strike. During that time and since, I've heard some actors and technical theatre practitioners alike lament the requirement to try their hand at an area of theatre that's unfamiliar to them. "It's a waste of time", some of them say, or "I'm going to New York to be an actor after college, so I don't understand why I need to help with striking a set."

Although there were times I have felt out of my element being up on a Genie stapling fabric leaves to tall columns (Into the Woods) or explaining to an elderly patron how a hearing aid device works, I have learned so much from these experiences and wouldn't trade them for anything. In fact, every time I've taught students in any setting, I require them to assist with a part of the production that isn't their area of interest or expertise. I love watching them start off unsure, perhaps even disinterested, and come away feeling a whole new respect for what everyone does to make a play happen. It's so valuable to feel out of your element from time to time, to be willing to be a beginner at something. It's how we find out what we're capable of, and how we discover new passions.

When you get a new perspective, you understand that everyone matters. Every single person matters. Yes, an audience sees actors onstage during a play, but only because the lighting designer has lit them so well. We can move around in our costumes because the costume designer has made sure our clothes are both beautiful and functional. The stage floor is clear of stray nails and staples because someone sweeps it every night before and after the show. Without the house manager, the show wouldn't start on time, and without the ushers, no one would get a program. Ever thought about running a show without a stage manager? Good luck. If any of these parts were missing, the show would suffer. Theatre is the essence of teamwork and while you don't have to be a jack of all trades, it pays to step into another role every now and then. Doing this gives you a different vantage point, and ultimately strengthens our sense of community.

This is an interesting way to look at things we do every day. We tend to get on the bus in the morning without looking at the bus driver, but it's amazing when you realize you wouldn't get to wherever you're going without him or her. Next time you go to buy a cup of coffee, notice that it's not just the barista that made your morning cup of joe possible, but everyone from the farmer who grew the coffee beans to the person mopping the floor every evening.

And lastly, recognize that you are part of the team, and what you do matters. You start to understand that regardless of how large or small your role feels in the giant machine, you are just as important to the outcome as all the other cogs and wheels. I think in an age of infinite Facebook followers, Tweeters, and LinkedIn connections, any opportunity we can get to see ourselves and others as not just another number but as a whole, valuable human being is an opportunity we should take.

What role changed your perspective?

Next up tomorrow is Life Lesson #3: Be Playful and Laugh at Yourself.

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Blog Series: All the World's a Stage

10/28/2014

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This past weekend, I wrapped up the play that I've been acting in for the last seven weeks or so. Closing a show is such a bittersweet thing: you know the rest you so desperately crave is on its way, and yet it's so hard to part with a director, cast, and crew that have become such a special part of your daily life. It's hard to say goodbye to the singular feeling of being in the moment with a talented group of actors in front of an audience that's right there in the moment with you. I feel so much richer for this experience and feel like I not only grew as an actor, but helped to grow my Boston arts community as well.

Whether you are an actor or not, I truly believe there's a wealth of wisdom that we can learn from the theatre that we can then use offstage in our daily lives. Over the next week or so, I'll be running a little blog series on life lessons I've learned from the stage. Each day I'll share a new lesson or realization I've had during this production that is giving me food for thought on how to approach my offstage life. I hope you'll join me as I reflect on some of these ideas and insights, and that you might find one or two of them that you connect to as well!

Keep reading after the photo for the first post...

Cast photo before my final performance.

Life Lesson #1: Show Up With What You Have and Use It Well

When I found out I was cast in this play, I wanted to clear my schedule completely for the next seven weeks, eliminating all emotional baggage, physical limitations, and stress of any kind. I wanted to work on this show entirely free of any anxiety, pain, frustration, and sadness in order to focus and really do my best. Are you laughing out loud yet?

Because it's impossible for anyone to wipe their emotional and physical slate clean at the wave of a wand, I did the only thing I could do. I chose to show up every night as me, complete with the range of emotions that we all feel-- joy, pain, fear, wonder, and anger. It felt like I was pushing an invisible luggage rack that groaned under the weight of my thirty plus years of life baggage, and wheeling it into the lobby. But once I reached the door to the theatre space itself, I reluctantly shoved the luggage rack into the corner of the lobby. As tough as it was, I tried night after night to leave these things at the door of the theatre. Don't worry, I told myself, they'll be right here waiting for you when you're done. And they were.

The only prospect that was harder for me than letting go of my baggage for the evening was the thought of letting it come with me and detract from the deep sense of joy I get from acting or let it affect how I work with my fellow actors. Can you imagine rehearsing a scene with a fellow actor and lashing out at them when they miss their entrance just because you had an argument with a friend over the weekend?

We can't magically banish all our stress, hurt, and worries when we walk into the theatre, but we can decide not to let these feelings control our experience while we're there. This idea could also apply to how we approach time in our homes, workplaces, subways, and grocery stores.

The second part of "showing up" has to do with trusting that I will use all the deeply imprinted joy, pain, fear, and worry that I possess to feed my work on my character and the story. My character struggled with the fear that her life's work as an abolitionist and women's rights activist was all in vain and that she didn't make any kind of a difference at all. I can totally relate to fear of leaving this world and having made no impact--I think we all can. Instead of cursing this fear of mine though, I realized I was grateful to be familiar with that feeling--it was going to help me to crawl inside this character and find a way to connect to her, which was going to make the whole play more powerful.

Without fear, pain, disappointment, sadness, and longing, how would I ever hope to emotionally connect to a character who also feels these things? It would be boring to watch a play that has only squeaky clean, happy moments and no conflict.

Once you start to look at your own scars and triumphs offstage in this way, you realize that these qualities are no longer as ugly as you first thought, but they are in fact beautiful and universal. What if we tried to see these feelings as invitations to make connections and cultivate compassion? I am still not sure how to do this in the non-theatrical part of my life, but am convinced that it's a worthwhile cause to see how I might try to learn.

Coming up tomorrow is Life Lesson #2: Everyone Matters. As always, leave me a comment below if you want to chime in with any thoughts!

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