I go over the top with my analogies sometimes, I know.  And I don’t even always follow them through or argue them properly. Oh well. I’m claiming passion in the moment as my defense. That’s a lovely thing about blogging. You can dash it off and send it out, and feel better after a bit of venting against the things that really steam your socks off, and then reaffirm that it’s a ritual born of futility. As I struggle to get a clearer view of the invisible speck that I am in the ungraspable expanse of existence, and see most of my fellow Homo-sapiens doing the same, I wonder at our collective ability to keep repeating the rituals we’ve created over the course of our lives, some helpful, some not. 

These rituals, these behaviors that are often comforting because they’re familiar, reflect our values, beliefs, and emotional responses to the world in which we live.  They tell the truth about who we are in a way that we can never tell in words.  Some of these  repetitious behaviors of ours make us proud, some ashamed, but regardless, they comprise for each of us, our Character.  Who we are. 

Why is a bad acting teacher like the Antichrist?  Well, to answer without an attempt at cleverness, it seems just downright destructive to me to lead a person, (especially a young person full of hope about the future—my target audience in these jags in case you didn’t guess), who seeks an outlet for creative expression, away from the truth of the moment, no matter what the reason. Mike Nichols is famous for saying to actors “How would you behave if this were really happening?”  It’s a fantastic question, fantastic in it’s simplicity, a great way of cutting through the bullshit “choices” and over-intellectualization of the moment, to return to the foundation of authentic work.

Why does the abuse of children outrage us?  Because the victims are innocents who need our protection.  The It Takes A Village mentality is born of a belief that we are all responsible for the protection of the young and helpless because we ourselves are neither  young nor helpless any longer. And we know better now.

You don’t need to study acting with me.  (That’s not sarcasm—you just don’t.) It’s important to me that you understand I’m not warning against the charlatans who unwittingly whittle away your sense of truth in order to get more students for myself.  I don’t really care much about that at all. I’m warning against it because it truly breaks my heart to see real talent damaged by prolonged exposure to mediocrity.  I know what damage was done to me as a young actor, and how long it took me to recognize it, and then, once done, how tough to undo, so I’m advocating that anyone starting on the path of discovery be vigilant about those folks who want to prove to you that they can help you.  Especially by being “popular”. 

Sometimes things are popular because they work (scotch tape comes to mind), and sometimes precisely because they don’t.  “Fat-free” was very popular in the 80’s.  It was complete bullshit of course, but it made people believe what they wanted to believe, namely that they could eat any carbohydrate they desired and still lose weight.  There were people at the time who were trying to get out the message that it was nonsense, but they were drowned out by the popularity of the idea. 

There is no easy way to “grow” your talent.  Removing the blocks that keep you from a full expression of your awareness of the moment is a tough, arduous procedure. It’s not a secret why we worship great actors like Sean Penn and Helen Mirren.  We understand instinctively how incredibly difficult it is to be able to connect deeply as ourselves, while relating to a set of circumstances that are imaginary.  It’s an outrageous thing to aspire to.  And even more outrageous to try and make a living at it.

Your talent is a precious thing. That I know to be true.  And even though I don’t have a neat way to tie up all these loose ends, they are Food for Thought, I hope.