I wanted to be a performer at a very early age. That’s due, in part, with the movies that my parents exposed me too.
Things like this:
I dreamt about being a chimney sweep/street artist/one-man-band. Because of those experiences I got into theatre early (12) and stayed in for a long time (I can’t say I’ve really left).
Seeing the end result of the some of the best performers in the world and made me want to replicate their success. My assumption was that it was talent that carried them to those points.
This assumption was based on my early success with natural talent. I have the ability to pick things up quickly. It’s diving deep and following through that I struggle with.
Here’s the thing about rehearsal, any kind of rehearsal, it’s boring. It’s monotonous. It is literally doing the same thing over and over again until you get to the point where you don’t have to think about it.
Don’t get me wrong, there is something about the rehearsal process that I love. Getting around creative people and creating something is intoxicating and exciting. When that group of creators becomes uninhibited and discovers something incredible it makes the monotony worth it. It’s probably my favorite part of improv.
When it comes to making progress on anything, it is exactly like rehearsal. It’s boring.
I wrote about my new morning and evening rituals and the benefit of the ritual. Now that I’ve kept it up for a few months I am different person. I process things differently. I have a different outlook. I have no intention of changing those rituals.
Day in and day out it feels like nothing is going on. It feels like I’m doing the same thing everyday. But, my writing is better. My mindfulness and presence is better. I feel better.
Results never happen over night. It is from the compilation of boring tasks done on a regular basis.
I have a list of things that I want to do. Things that I think will make my life better in the long run. When I was thinking about this list, a few months ago, I had came up with a new analogy for my change in perspective.
When I would look at that list all I saw was the mountain at the end of the trail. It was overwhelming. Looking at all the work that has to happen between where I’m at where I want to be is so discouraging that I would give up. I’d done right after I got started. I’m a good starter.
Now that I am feeling more present and focusing on the here and now I glance up to the top, but don’t stare. I get an idea of where I want to go and then I look at my feet. I look at the hill ahead. I look at where I can go and what I can do today to get there.
This concept isn’t new. I have heard a form of this analogy all my life.
A few years ago I bought a goal-planning book that describes this same process, except he says drips instead to steps. Completing tasks one drip at a time slowing making progress to the end goal.
I’ve understood this concept, but I’ve never learned it.
The best definition of learning I’ve heard is: when you learn something, it changes your behavior.
My behavior never changed. I still have these worries that I will revert back to my old self. I try to be aware of where I’m at and what needs to happen. I realize now that the process I’m going through is going to be boring. That’s how I know I’m doing it right.
It’s boring. There is a part of me that fights against this. Life should be exciting. Thanks to the constant feed of modern society my expectation is that it should constant.
Every celebrity’s life is awesome all the time. Until they get to work. Until they have to perform and then it becomes a series of mundane tasks that eventually lead to the performance of a lifetime.
So really, boring is okay. Because eventually I’ll get there.