The Vs. Studio Blog

“Named must your fear be, before banish it you can.” — Yoda

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.” – Joseph Campbell

“We suffer more in imagination, than in reality.” – Seneca

I’ve never read the book “Feel The Fear…and Do It Anyway” but the title alone seems like great advice.

However, before the “do it anyway” part, consider the timeless exercise of fear setting. It’s getting down on paper the worst fears in your head. The Stoics termed it “Premeditatio Malorum” or “the premeditation of evils.” For more on this, check out Tim Ferris’ article and excellent TED Talk here.

Two observations from doing the exercise:

One…Our worst fears are unlikely to occur, and if they do, we’ll recover. Somehow. Someway. We’re resilient!

Two…Whatever we fear most is usually the exact path we should take.

I’ve never regretted not facing my fears. Only trying to avoid them.

P.S. – Give the exercise a try. And share with me your observations. I’d love to hear back!

“You know what the worst thing about someone breaking up with you is?… Remembering how little you really thought about the people you broke up with and realizing that’s how little they’re thinking about you.” Before Sunrise

Consider sonder. Which is, the realization that everyone has their own narrative going on in their head. And their narrative is every bit as rich as the one going on in your head.

That realization, that sonder, is the first step towards empathy. Which then gives us a good chance to be kind. To be generous. To make art.

1986. Miami Beach, Florida. North Shore Park. Outdoor basketball courts. Night. Under the sodium lights.

I’m thirteen.

I’m short.

And a little bit chubby. (The polite term back then was “husky.”)

But I can shoot…when I’m wide open.

As usual, I’m practicing by myself on a separate basket.

One of the adults on the “grown men court” walks over to me and asks if I wanna run with them.

I notice they don’t have a basketball. That’s the only reason he came over.

“Yeah, sure” I respond and nervously walk over to their court.

I play a few games. I do okay. Hit a couple jumpers. Everything else needs work. Lots of work.

I keep practicing.

Over the ensuing weeks snd months, I sometimes get asked to play. Even when they have a basketball.

More time passes. More practicing.

I get older. Taller. Better.

I become a regular on the “grown men court.”

I made it.

It doesn’t matter that the only reason you’re in the game is because you brought the ball.

It doesn’t matter that the only reason you’re on that stage is because you produced it.

It only matters what you do once you’re under those lights.

It’s easy to look around and diagnose the problems. How many books, articles and news stories do nothing but that? Day after day. An unending stream of “let me show you how bad things are”; “why we’re in this mess; “who’s to blame.” Sadly, most of it is designed to hold our attention spans hostage.

I’m not for one second suggesting we turn a blind eye to our problems. We absolutely need the diagnosis. It’s important to know what needs fixing.

But there’s another side that is woefully ignored. That gets scant attention.

The solutions.

Because solutions are hard.

Because just like art, they might not work. There’s nuance involved. Careful thought. Small, deliberate steps. Practical, thankless action. You could be wrong. You will be judged.

Okay.

Do it anyway.

Because we need you. We need your leadership. Your effort. Your ideas. Your willingness to try.

We need your solutions.

P.S. – Here are a couple of solutions-based organizations to check out:

Solutions Journalism

Weave: The Social Fabric Project

You’re not doing this play and this role because of vanity.

You’re not doing the difficult, often thankless, producing work because “it’s good to get up there.”

You’re not doing it because you want to “showcase your talents.”

You’re not doing it because you want people to come up to you at the end of the night and tell you how wonderful you were.

You’re not doing it to get representation.

You’re not doing it to book future, paid work.

No way. That’s not why. That’s not you.

You’re doing it because you fell in love with this play. This role. At this time. So much so, you were willing to produce it.

You’re doing it because you want all the other artists (actors, director, designers, crew) to shine brightly and have an incredible, joyful experience.

You’re doing it because you want to honor the playwright. Their blood, sweat and tears they poured out on the page.

You’re doing it because you want to give the audience a memorable night out.

You’re doing it because…well…you just have to. You’re called to it. Summoned. Like a vocation. You didn’t have a choice.

That’s not vanity.

That’s passion.

And if people still want to judge you and call it a vanity project?…Fine.

I can’t wait to come and see your “Vanity Project”. Because it’s gonna be awesome.

“When people injure you, ask yourself what good or harm they thought would come of it. If you understand that, you’ll feel sympathy rather than outrage or anger. Your sense of good and evil may be the same as theirs, or near it, in which case you have to excuse them. Or your sense of good and evil may differ from theirs. In which case they’re misguided and deserve your compassion. Is that so hard?” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

In any situation involving other people, i.e. all of life, it’s inevitable they will act in ways different from your expectations. They’ll say or do things that make you angry, sad, hurt, etc…You’ll want to respond emotionally. Don’t. Instead, remember these three words:

ASSUME POSITIVE INTENT.

Let that color your response. You’ll avoid a lot of unnecessary conflict and stress. Plus it’s just a good way to go think about others.

ASSUME POSITIVE INTENT.

Now when you’re on stage, that’s a different story…

Sorry, I couldn’t resist an opportunity to insert a Laker image. I miss hoops. But Shaq definitely looks enthusiastic in this picture, doesn’t he?

The word enthusiasm is derived from the Greek word, entheos, which means “inspired from God.”

Trust your enthusiasm. It’s coming from a deeper place. And know that when you’re enthusiastic about something, you inspire others. You inspire them to do great and generous things, to make their art, to take the leap they’ve always wanted to take. It’s infectious. So share it. Let it out. Tell the world what lights you up.

Sound your barbaric Yawp!

“I shall remember this moment: the silence, the twilight, the bowl of strawberries, the bowl of milk. Your faces in the evening light. Mikael asleep, Jof with his lyre. I shall try to remember our talk. I shall carry this memory carefully in my hands as if it were a brimful of fresh milk. It will be a sign to me, and a great sufficiency.” -Antonius Block in The Seventh Seal

I can watch this short scene from Bergman’s masterpiece all day long. Amidst intense suffering and anxiety from a deadly plague ravaging the land coupled with the ominous figure of Death following him, Antonius Block gets a brief reprieve. He delights in the calming presence of the young, married actors, Mia and Jof, and their baby, Mikael. He enjoys delicious strawberries and fresh milk with his companions. A beautiful dusk envelopes the pastoral land. The birds are chirping. Jof softly plays the lyre.

Perhaps it’s heaven on earth? For a moment, anyway.

Just like live theatre. Beautiful art. Shared. In good company. A break from our lives. Our problems.

And it’s ephemeral. The night won’t last.

So savor it that much more.

“If you don’t take money, they can’t tell you what to do, kid.” -Bill Cunningham

I love the documentary on the late, great fashion photographer. Bill Cunningham: New York. I highly, highly recommend it.

It’s a beautiful portrait of someone who was singularly devoted to their craft. Someone full of joy because he got to do what he loved. Every day, all hours of the day.

Bill regularly turned down payment for his work. He often left checks uncashed. He lived like a monk. His reasoning was that when you do it for money, you owe. You can’t make the art you want. You can’t do it on your terms.

We all need to make a living, of course. Bill did too. He worked for The New York Times as their fashion columnist for most of his life. But what happens if we separate money and success from our art? What are we freed up to pursue? To create? What’s something we might do every single day no matter what? What change would we seek to make in the world?

Don’t take the money.

Make your art.

Jake and Elwood were on a “Mission From God.” For them, failure was not an option. They were all in. Pot committed. They also had complete confidence that no matter how dire things looked, they would come through. Because they had to. That trust and commitment informed every one of their actions.

You don’t have to be on a “Mission From God” to do something important. To create something beautiful. To make radical change. But you do need to be one hundred percent committed and have absolute trust in yourself.

What’s your mission? What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?