Staying open

One of the hardest things to do as an artist is to maintain a level of openness. We spend lots of time invested in one singular moment on the stage, only for this moment to be rewritten during later rehearsals. That can bring all kinds of feelings to the surface.

The scene didn't work because I'm not good enough.
Why did we waste all that time and energy staging it the first way?

It's in these moments that we have to find a way to take a step back. If we look at the bigger picture, and get our ego out of the way, these changes are usually for a good reason, and they ultimately make the piece better. We can allow our prickly egos to push back, or we can place trust in the director and other artists that the changes we're making are worthwhile. Either way, these moments actually happen fairly often in the world of theater, and we're better off if we can just get used to it. Adapt like a boat on a river.

My brain also likes to feel security. I like knowing exactly where I'll be on stage for any given moment. I like having it well rehearsed and in my body and in my voice. And there's absolutely something to that. We should aim to feel good on stage. But in a community of trust (which theater is, ideally), we can allow some of these insecurities to be taken care of by those around us. It's a kind of letting go and trusting in process, in the work already done, and in each other.