In his best-seller Start With Why, author Simon Sinek argues that the best companies and organizations, the ones we remember, are those that have a clear sense of purpose. Their “Why” supersedes their “What.” Their products and services exist because of their “Why.” Mission before Action.
What if we did that for ourselves? As artists, what if we really honed in on our “Why” for creating. What if we had our own personal mission statement? Not just cool words on a page. But something we believed to our core.
I’m guessing that we would then get clarity on what projects we wanted to make. And with whom.
And our output, our choices, would reflect that clarity.
And then maybe, just maybe, we’d have a shot at being remembered. By the right people. For the right reasons.
“You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do, say and think.” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
Memento Mori is an ancient practice of reflecting on our own mortality. Reflections manifested in all art forms–paintings (like the image above), songs, writings (the Stoics and others), etc….even Walt Disney made his own personal Memento Mori cartoon.
Rather than scare us, Memento Mori should free us. It should free us into taking that leap. Making that decision. Producing that play.
If you know your days are numbered, why not do it? What do you have to lose? What’s stopping you?
Tom Hanks Golden Globes speech should be required viewing for any artist. Especially actors. Two big takeaways…be on time and come prepared with strong choices.
Reminded me of a workshop I was in many years ago. Taught by a very famous, Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright. (Bonus points if you can guess who.)
It’s day one. Playwright’s on stage and thirty seconds in to the introduction…Door opens. (It’s in the back of the house.)
Enter an attendee/aspiring actor. Playwright stops, mid sentence. Addresses the person.
“Me?”, the aspirant points to himself.
“Yes. You. Please don’t sit down. Turn around. Go back the way you came in. See the young ladies at the registration desk. They will give you a full refund on your tuition.”
The actor just stands there. Stunned. As are the rest of the two hundred-plus audience members.
Long, uncomfortable silence.
Finally, mercifully the playwright breaks it. “If you learn nothing else in this workshop, you will learn to be prompt. That’s the first lesson and the most important lesson I can teach you. Thank you. Good luck.”