So it's been a busy week, I've been cast in 3 upcoming films (all shorts)- YAY! but enough about me, I'd like to share with you, fellow traveler, an experience that I had during my training session on Tues night...
Scott (my coach) had us all sit in chairs, and we went through a number of centering exercises designed to bring our individual focus completely inward. He then told us to feel our asses glued to the seat, and the legs nailed into the floor. As we sat with that uncomfortable, claustrophobic feeling, he then told us to feel an immediate and urgent need to get out of the chair- as this feeling grew, he told us that whatever reason we had, was right outside the door of the room we were in. I struggled initially with genuinely feeling that urgency. I could feel my ass glued to the chair, but no real reason to need to leave it. Then I began to hear my nephew (ungh!) crying, this transformed to Cory screaming due to something of a sinister nature. I felt myself on the edge of completely losing it, but held back for concern of distracting some of the newer members of the group, as well as the possibility that Scott would direct my 'coming out' as it may and that would be devastating to my development- I think? (I know wrong) I was also worried about what I might do to the chair should I totally 'let go'. Lastly, I was scared to let go, I mean I was on the verge, the very edge- but I just didn't trust myself to go over it (there ain't no coming back...;). And I cursed myself for not having the balls to do it, to not make the more difficult choice.
Then, a strange thing happened... as I felt the frustration and disappointment in myself grow- I also began to feel a genuine feeling of hopelessness- like it was 'too late' I had missed it. In reality, I did 'miss' that choice to really lose it, but then that feeling of hopeless, of loss, brought about a new awareness to my situation. I felt that whatever was outside that door, my chance to do something (the duality of heroically saving Cory/making a choice to 'go there') was gone, and nothing I could do could bring it back. As I felt this helplessness, I just sat in the chair and quietly sobbed, not dramatically, there were no tears- There was no Danny Glover moment from Lethal Weapon, there were no threats, no purple-faced vein-engorged soul edifying screams- just me in a chair feeling utterly defeated. It wasn't until afterward, after much discussion with colleagues, that I realized that this experience was just as valuable. Acting is never defined by just one moment in time, it's defined by the infinite moments and the choices we make (inaction is a choice as well) in each of those moments. Argh! it's terrifying and exhilarating just to think how difficult and amazing this process really is. And I feel like I'm just seeing the tip of it all...
Here it is, your/my moment of zen (sorry Jon Stewart):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTqbdxL_gmU
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