Playing.
That’s the thing. What happened to that?
Since the beginning of time, that’s the real reason to be an actor. The ancient Greeks may have called their little skits “tragedies” but the word is a compound of two Greek words: “goat” and “to sing.” So, ummmm . . . they were definitely having fun if they were singing songs about a goat.
When did we lose this sense of play?
Isn’t that why you signed up for that Acting 101 Class in college? It wasn’t just to discover that there were lots of gays just like yourself. Or if you were straight – to try and hook up with the hot drama chicks. You enrolled because it simply looked fun.
What happened along the way?
When did acting – and auditioning – and the pursuit of a life in the arts become a big fat dramatic tragedy?
Well we’re a tad obsessed with drama. (Turn on any episode of The Bachelor and you’ll understand . . . it’s a cultural epidemic!) But somewhere along the line, we confused something that is purely an expression of joy and wild abandon for something that is painful and hard and full of suffering.
Watch kids play. They play. They commit. They say yes. They do it their way. They believe in their world 100% without having to do sense memory to get there. That’s because it’s all there. Even at such a young age. Just like it is for all of us. Always. Regardless of our age.
Just because we’ve gotten older or been rejected or become a tad jaded or have shut our heart to possibility doesn’t mean that the authentic child-like spirit of who we are isn’t still alive within us. It is.
And the work (called a “play”) wants to extract it. It wants to wring it out of you and leave it all dripping on the stage floor or the film set or the TV show. But we get triggered in perceptions (“How do I look?”) and doing things right (“How does this look?”) and having to be good (“How do you think I look?”) and measuring up (“How do I look compared to him?”)
You don’t have anything to prove. You just have to give yourself permission.
Like kids do. Permission to play is what provides possibility for us. (Wow, there’s lots of “P’s” in that sentence).
Give up the “too cool for school” card and be vulnerable. Give up the cynicism for laughter. Give up the embarrassment for going all in. Give up the jadedness for being open. Give up the textbooks and doing it “right” and being perfect for the messiness of being alive and imperfect and creating your own how-to manual.
When you do, not only will you have fun again (!) but you’ll realize that’s really the only reason you ever wanted to do it in the first place.
To play.