The Vs. Studio Blog

I’ve uttered this phrase a lot in 2020. Not sure the derivation. Not sure the why. I just say it. Out loud.

And it’s strangely comforting.

My guess is that its related to what the Stoics termed “The Art of Acquiescence.” Letting go. Acknowledging that while things are not what we want them to be, we still must deal with them. As they actually are. With clear eyes and hearts. Nothing extra. Leaning in to the obstacle. Not pushing away or running from it.

By willing acceptance, we can deal with whatever life throws in our path.

And then, down the road, in the rearviewmirror, when we’ve fully dealt with those problems, we’ll have the energy, the confidence and the will to make lasting change. So that those problems don’t come up again.

In the meantime, for anything that comes our way…

“It is what it is.”

“Nobody knows anything.” -William Goldman

We don’t get to decide how or if our art will be remembered. If it’ll have staying power. If we’ll have any kind of legacy. It’s not up to us. Thus, we should spend zero time calculating. Zero time trying to please. Zero time trying to reach a certain demographic.

Instead, we should spend ALL our time digging deep within ourselves. Trying to find out what exactly we’re passionate to say and why.

If that desire burns hot enough, let us make our art. Manifest that passion. Do it with excellence and generosity every step of the way.

And then, let the chips fall where they may.

The surgeon and writer, Atul Gawande, recently did an excellent “Armchair Expert” podcast episode. He discussed, among many interesting topics, the power and results from having a simple checklist prior to operations. One amazing stat: the number of surgery-related deaths was reduced by nearly 50% in hospitals that employed a checklist. 50%! The checklist contains very simple questions and procedures like ensuring all the doctors and nurses thoroughly wash their hands or giving everyone in the O.R. a chance to speak before surgery.

What would happen if we devised and employed a simple checklist for our daily lives? Include items like health, self care, learning, generosity, and time spent on our art/passion project. Look at it every morning before starting out our day. And then again in the evening before bed. Congratulate ourselves on what we accomplished. Assess where we fell short, asking why, and resolving to do better tomorrow.

With this daily checklist, how much unnecessary suffering and anxiety could we eliminate from our lives? How much time could we save? How much energy could we get back?

And with all that savings and increased happiness, what change can we make in the world?

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart.” -Colossians 3:23

Sonya: “Well. Uncle! Now. What shall we do?”

Vanya: “Work.”

Sonya: “Yes!” -Excerpt from the play Uncle Vanya, by Anton Chekov

The Vietnamese Thien Buddhist monk and pease activist, Thich Nhat Hanh, once wrote, “There is no way to happiness, happiness is the way.”

The same can be said about meaningful work. Before searching for the perfect job or project that will give us meaning and purpose, let us first bring meaning to whatever work we’re doing right now. If we can keep doing that, keep showing up, keep going above and beyond, keep being what Seth Godin calls a “linchpin”…meaningful work will find us.

Happy Labor Day everyone!

“Sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way in order to come back a short distance correctly.” -Edward Albee, The Zoo Story

How long can you stay in the chair and write badly?

How long can you be on the stage and act badly?

How long can you stand behind the canvas and paint badly?

How long can you do anything badly?

Discipline and consistency are the tools that enable us to push through the badly. To keep showing up. To keep battling the voice inside. The resistance. For if we stay at anything long enough, our subconscious will kick in. As if to say, “Enough! Okay, I get it. This is important to you. You’re showing up every day. Here’s where you need to go. Do this.”

It’s why we get a second wind and expanded lung capacity from running. Why our muscles grow after repeatedly working out. Why our skills improve. Why creative breakthroughs and “Aha!” moments happen.

But first we need to start. And then keep going. Keep showing up. Often doing things badly. Day after day after day. Eventually, we’ll get to the other side. To the place we want to go. To the art and change we want to make.

I’m backstage, about to go on as “Austin”, mid-run of a dream production of TRUE WEST. I have a moment. Everything slows down. I look around and take everything in. I see my fellow actors prepping. I hear the hustle and bustle of the audience. I feel the energy pulsing all around me.

I’m overcome with gratitude and emotion. Tears well up. Then a realization. A constant thought washes over me. Call it a mantra. “It’s a miracle.”

“It’s a miracle.”

“It’s a miracle.”

“It’s a miracle.”

It’s a miracle that Sam Shepard’s estate said yes. They gave us the rights to produce his masterpiece.

It’s a miracle I get to do this amazing part in this iconic play.

It’s a miracle I get to act alongside this incredibly talented, dedicated and generous cast. Including my artistic brother, Andy Hawkes (pictured above as “Lee”), who helped me produce this play. He always had my back and was there at every turn.

It’s a miracle we convinced our friend and badass director, Scott Cummins, to drive down over six hours every week, leaving his family behind, to rehearse and put up this play. For pure love of the art.

It’s a miracle we have this supremely talented design team, our Vs. family, that make us look so good in our costumes, under beautiful lights, on a ridiculously creative set with a terrifying fight scene that brings it all home.

It’s a miracle we have such a devoted stage crew, house manager and box office manager. They’re also Vs. family. They keep everyone happy and everything running on point.

It’s a miracle all the people who gave their time and talents to this production. They supported us in so many ways.

And it’s a miracle that 35 people (our max capacity) showed up tonight to watch us perform. They purchased a ticket. They took time out of their busy lives, in some cases arranging for a sitter, drove here, parked, and arrived on time. With open hearts and minds, ready to receive this beautiful story, rooting us on at every moment.

It’s a miracle. It’s all a miracle.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“Places everyone.”

I snap to attention.

Showtime…

That was about a year ago.

I pray every day and can’t wait for the miracle of live theatre to return.

Information is a commodity. It didn’t use to be the case. But thanks to the internet, it is now.

What’s not a commodity and never will be?

The application of that information.

Synthesis.

Understanding and communicating the information.

Deciding to take action. Even if you don’t have all the information. Even if things might not work. Doing it anyway. Because you care that much. (The definition of art.)

Leadership. Standing by your decision. Inspiring others.

Resiliency.

Flexibility. Especially when new information is presented to you.

Empathy.

Generosity.

Integrity.

Let us embrace and practice these traits. For they will never go out of style. They will never be a commodity.

What art would you make if you based your choice entirely on process, on having a meaningful experience, as opposed to the end result and judgment of others?

You’ll never regret going after something with everything you have and falling short. You can live with that.

You’ll only regret giving a half-assed effort.

Or not going after something at all.

For anything that happens to us, anything we read or hear, anyone who evokes strong emotions in us, we’d be wise to do two things before responding.

First, bring awareness. Just be aware that we’re having that response. Notice the thoughts. Don’t judge them.

Second, bring curiosity. Get intensely curious with our feelings. Be our own emotional detectives. Say to ourselves as often as we need to…”That’s interesting.” As if we’re playing a part and trying to get into the skin of the character. Why are we feeling this way? What might be causing it? Is there something deeper going on?

“That’s interesting” is a great pattern interrupt. It stops us from going down the same, worn out, response grooves. It’s also the first step towards making any kind of lasting change.