I have never been a patient person. In fact, because fear and a general hatred of mathematics cannot really be considered a character flaw (I assume), I would say patience - or, rather, a lack of patience - is my biggest character flaw.
I have always wanted to be surrounded by friendly people, and I have always wanted to do everything right this minute. As a kid growing up in rural Texas, down a gravel road with only one other kid in the neighborhood, I spent every waking minute I could with that kid, Sarah. We would sneak into a bamboo grove in an old woman's yard to pretend we were ancient Indians, or make dreamcatchers out of popsicle sticks in the loft of her barn, or try to "climb the walls" in the narrow hallway by her bedroom. Inevitably, my mom would call at some point, telling me it was time to come home. I would trudge home, disgruntled and annoyed, because my mom wanted me to have what she called "downtime". To me, downtime - where the hours dragged on in boredom, when they could have been spent on make-believe adventures - seemed like a punishment. I was always restless or antsy, and would use this "alone time" to do productive things, like working on categorizing geodes and rocks (I thought I might become a geologist), or writing scripts for my siblings and I to perform in the living room, or writing short stories or poetry. I always felt like Jo from Little Women, who didn't particularly care about being girly, or falling in love, or being proper. Jo and I always yearned for great, bold adventures, for the excitement of the wider world, for the pace of a life lived with gusto and appetite for culture and challenge.
I suppose then, it is no huge surprise that the grown-up version of me is still very much the same person. I find myself back in Los Angeles for a few brief weeks of training, before heading to Texas to work on a documentary, and then back to Vegas for all of June to complete filming on "Mall Cop". As the training schedule in place is very demanding and will have me out and about, either with physical work or driving, during the week, I have put my regular classes I teach on hold, much to the disappointment of some dear students and clients (whom I adore and have not forgotten!). And with this bizarre sort of stillness in the later part of the day, I find myself going absolutely crazy with restlessness. I crave the sort of peace and calm that Kaleb draws from being alone, from spending hours engulfed in a game or a show, but I know that is not me.
I have been incredibly productive in the last few days. From a physical training perspective, I have been taking yoga, martial arts, and tumbling, and I even dragged myself to the local pool today, to use a kickboard and to do some water jogging. I loathe swimming, but eventually, I will have to come up with the courage to tackle that one, too. I finally got to see an orthopedist for the shoulder injury I got in mid-April, and he believes it is a simple matter of bursitis at this point, which is not uncommon with athletes and people in their mid-twenties who are active. He told me which exercises to avoid - which I had been doing for the past three weeks anyway, after doing my own research - but at least my $50 copay went toward the peace of mind of knowing I do not have a rotator cuff tear (yet; have to remain careful). I also started working on exercises for shin splints, as the last week brought on excruciating pain along my anterior shins (outsides of my knees). Sitting on the floor and circling my ankles or pointing and flexing through a resistance band for 45 minutes feels like sheer torture to me; I want to be jumping, flying, dancing! I find myself talking in my head the way I would to an injured client: "This is minor, and it is worth fixing and slowing down for, before it becomes major." And after doing all of the exercises, I stand up to walk, and I know from how much better the legs already feel that I am right.
From a career perspective, I have been equally productive. I tell myself that I am on sabbatical right now, a term which mystified me throughout college, and which I assumed meant an extended vacation, filled with laziness. But a sabbatical is actually a ceasing, a rest from work. In modern times, it is usually a rest period that is taken in order to achieve a goal. Now that I can work with! I have been revisiting my goals for this year, and actively breaking down the steps and the links that are missing (or, as Loni would say, the holes that need to be filled). I sent out emails to no less than 25 voiceover agencies, seeking representation, as I now have six weeks of very solid classes under my belt and a demo ready to rock and roll. I heard back from two so far, and have set up meetings with both. Next week, I will call the other agencies (as Scott, my teacher, recommended the best ones), so that I can keep my options open. I absolutely believe you should work with someone - no matter what field you are in - who believes in your talent and whom you feel a natural ease and connection with. I have also reached out to several stunt coordinators, to talk about meetings in July, when I get back into LA. I am in the process of ordering new business cards, I have a voiceover gig to record next week (thanks to the referral of a good college friend to his company!), a new skincare regimen I am trying out (thanks to the advice of my makeup artist from Mall Cop 2!), and a very good chance of being the lead in a independent feature film that I strongly believe in. Not bad for the course of a few days.
And yet, with all of this possibility and opportunity, I still find myself asking, "what else can you be doing to be better?" I think this is a big lesson in learning to be still for me. No, it is not easy to make the switch from all-night shoots on set, filled with coffee and excitement, to more measured, spaced-out work during the day. Yet that is the life of an actor. Those who have been in the industry for a while will tell you that when you work, you work for six months straight, and then you will have three months with nothing going on. Sure, this sounds exciting, and many people assume that us actors and stunt guys and gals simply get to take a three-month vacation, but the truth is that artists crave new art. Always. Triathletes say, "how can I be faster?" Dancers say, "how can I jump higher, be lighter?" And I am no different. Perhaps the trick is this: rather than thinking that stillness is a robbery of your momentum, believe that in the external stillness, the little gears and internal pieces of the universe and all the cosmos are shifting and aligning with your vision, with your work. You must give that process time. The earth alone took millions of years to form, and every stage, every second, every trickle in that process has led to you standing on your own two feet today, surrounded by a world full of (literal) biological promise and opportunity. When you cannot see the change, trust that it is evolving independent of our limited sight.
I will keep telling myself this, because this understanding does afford me some clarity. Belief that your goal is worth achieving and the patience to let it evolve will lead to mastery and, more importantly, happiness along the way. At least I like to think so.
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