I applied to a freelance writing job today and, in addition to wanting a cover letter, they also asked me for my answer to the question "What is constant?" I ended up writing more than I intended to, and I decided to include the answer here.
I agree with the quote attributed to Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who allegedly said "The only constant is change." This quote originally frustrated me when I discovered it as a teenager, as it sounds like the exact opposite of a direct answer. However, in my adult life I have found it comforting. When one expects stability, one is inevitably frustrated. When one expects change and occasional hardship, it is easier to be patient when it comes along. Stability is not the basic state of the universe -- entropy is. At the molecular level and upward, all things move eventually from order to chaos. We cannot plan for specific changes -- or rather, we can, but it is not enough. Demanding that the universe bow to our expectations is a lesson in constant frustration.
A surfer has to keep her knees bent slightly to allow her body to react to the subtle, or sudden, shifts in the water beneath her. She is standing on a man-made board trying to balance on water, and she can only do it if she lets herself relinquish the illusion of control. Modern humans are so easily seduced by that illusion of control, perfection, and certainty. Certainty makes us feel powerful, it makes us believe --falsely-- that we have mastery over our environment. But artists, surfers, parents... we have to admit that the constant chaos of the universe can occasionally defeat us. It doesn't defeat us as often, though, if we are prepared to surf; prepared to keep our knees soft in the wake of change. Change is constant, but frustration doesn't have to be.
As an actor, my very favorite things are improvisation and interacting with the audience. I think it's because theatre can't compete with movies in terms of epic visuals, but movies can never compete with theatre when it comes to shared human experience. Theatre reminds us that we are here, right now, with other people -- breathing the same air and experiencing the same ephemeral event. When I train other actors in improv and audience interaction, I have to remind them that there are things they just can't plan for. You can't decide how the audience will react to you. Actors have to be fully present in order to do their job well, and that presence can't be faked during audience interaction. The audience will know if an actor is on autopilot, because they won't be sharing a genuine connection. Actors who rely on certainty will inevitably seem phony and unappealing, especially when they try to trick the interactive audience. This fact is why I invite the audience to interact in the first place: no matter how good at my craft I become, I never want to slip into the trap of replacing adaptability with overconfidence. I want to stay present. I want to be the surfer and keep my knees slightly bent so that I'm ready for change. I don't have to know what the change is going to be, but I do know there will be change and so I might as well prepare my knees in order to give myself a fighting chance to stay on top of the waves.
The philosophical follow-up to Heraclitus' quote is the one attributed to Edward A. Murphy in what has become known as Murphy's Law: "Anything that can go wrong, will." Murphy is really saying that in an infinite universe, there is room for every possible outcome -- it's not a matter of IF something will happen, it's a matter of WHEN. There is only so much control we can exert over our environment, to force certain outcomes into impossibility and thus render them "safe" from ever happening. As I see it, there are only two ways of comforting ourselves in the face of this limitless possibility for unexpected change. The first is certainty: investing fully in the complete illusion that we are masters of our universe and we can prevent or explain away absolutely everything that happens. This path leads to constant frustration because we are not actually omnipotent, and therefore reality keeps intruding uncomfortably on our fantasy. The other way of dealing with the constant of change is by relaxing and embracing our position as finite and flawed mortals -- accepting our incapacity for preventing the inevitable. This path is also uncomfortable, especially at first, because we have to deal with the vulnerability of admitting that we can't control everything. However, I believe that relaxing, like the surfer relaxes her knees, is ultimately its own reward. We are better able to deal with the unexpected when we are calm, rested, and aren't wasting so much energy on getting angry with the universe for failing to meet our demands. It is easier to be patient with constant change when we are honest with ourselves about our limits.
I agree with the quote attributed to Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who allegedly said "The only constant is change." This quote originally frustrated me when I discovered it as a teenager, as it sounds like the exact opposite of a direct answer. However, in my adult life I have found it comforting. When one expects stability, one is inevitably frustrated. When one expects change and occasional hardship, it is easier to be patient when it comes along. Stability is not the basic state of the universe -- entropy is. At the molecular level and upward, all things move eventually from order to chaos. We cannot plan for specific changes -- or rather, we can, but it is not enough. Demanding that the universe bow to our expectations is a lesson in constant frustration.
A surfer has to keep her knees bent slightly to allow her body to react to the subtle, or sudden, shifts in the water beneath her. She is standing on a man-made board trying to balance on water, and she can only do it if she lets herself relinquish the illusion of control. Modern humans are so easily seduced by that illusion of control, perfection, and certainty. Certainty makes us feel powerful, it makes us believe --falsely-- that we have mastery over our environment. But artists, surfers, parents... we have to admit that the constant chaos of the universe can occasionally defeat us. It doesn't defeat us as often, though, if we are prepared to surf; prepared to keep our knees soft in the wake of change. Change is constant, but frustration doesn't have to be.
As an actor, my very favorite things are improvisation and interacting with the audience. I think it's because theatre can't compete with movies in terms of epic visuals, but movies can never compete with theatre when it comes to shared human experience. Theatre reminds us that we are here, right now, with other people -- breathing the same air and experiencing the same ephemeral event. When I train other actors in improv and audience interaction, I have to remind them that there are things they just can't plan for. You can't decide how the audience will react to you. Actors have to be fully present in order to do their job well, and that presence can't be faked during audience interaction. The audience will know if an actor is on autopilot, because they won't be sharing a genuine connection. Actors who rely on certainty will inevitably seem phony and unappealing, especially when they try to trick the interactive audience. This fact is why I invite the audience to interact in the first place: no matter how good at my craft I become, I never want to slip into the trap of replacing adaptability with overconfidence. I want to stay present. I want to be the surfer and keep my knees slightly bent so that I'm ready for change. I don't have to know what the change is going to be, but I do know there will be change and so I might as well prepare my knees in order to give myself a fighting chance to stay on top of the waves.
The philosophical follow-up to Heraclitus' quote is the one attributed to Edward A. Murphy in what has become known as Murphy's Law: "Anything that can go wrong, will." Murphy is really saying that in an infinite universe, there is room for every possible outcome -- it's not a matter of IF something will happen, it's a matter of WHEN. There is only so much control we can exert over our environment, to force certain outcomes into impossibility and thus render them "safe" from ever happening. As I see it, there are only two ways of comforting ourselves in the face of this limitless possibility for unexpected change. The first is certainty: investing fully in the complete illusion that we are masters of our universe and we can prevent or explain away absolutely everything that happens. This path leads to constant frustration because we are not actually omnipotent, and therefore reality keeps intruding uncomfortably on our fantasy. The other way of dealing with the constant of change is by relaxing and embracing our position as finite and flawed mortals -- accepting our incapacity for preventing the inevitable. This path is also uncomfortable, especially at first, because we have to deal with the vulnerability of admitting that we can't control everything. However, I believe that relaxing, like the surfer relaxes her knees, is ultimately its own reward. We are better able to deal with the unexpected when we are calm, rested, and aren't wasting so much energy on getting angry with the universe for failing to meet our demands. It is easier to be patient with constant change when we are honest with ourselves about our limits.
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