I’m probably going to read this someday and regret writing it.
Any “legitimate artist” will most likely disagree with my perspective.
I’m aware this sounds crazy, but I gotta throw it out there.

Has anyone ever wondered if our instincts on stage might be completely ass backward?

One of the quintessential lessons I’ve both learned and taught is to “follow your instinct.” In theory, I get this. 100%. If you want to do something on stage, do it. If you feel like kissing the girl, kiss her. If you feel like walking out, walk out. If you feel like letting go, let go. That part I get. I love that, I believe in it, I strive for it.

The problem is, is that I’m wondering what the fuck it is that we’ve been trained to want to do.

Almost all of my instincts in life are survival instincts. I’ve been trained to protect myself, to be careful with who I trust and selective with who give myself to. I’m assuming these instincts are fairly normal, right?

The problem is, that shit doesn’t disappear when I get on stage. My instinct is still to preserve myself. To survive. If something doesn’t feel safe, beneficial or doesn’t feel like I have control over it, my instinct is to get the fuck out. My instinct is that when I see a tornado, I go underground in the storm shelter with Auntie Em and wish the farm animals the best of luck.

I’m realizing these instincts translate on stage to: Not letting myself trust another human being, not allowing myself to feel hurt, stupid, embarrassed, turned on, rejected or genuinely happy. My instinct is to protect myself. Even with eye contact. The minute shit starts to get real on stage, my body has been trained to look away, do a dramatic cross and then laugh off the awkwardness.

I don’t like these instincts. I’m wondering if we’ve fooled ourselves into thinking that survival instincts actually serve us on stage.

We talk a lot at Black Box about jumping out of an airplane. When you stand on the edge of of an airplane, you have two choices: 1) Jump out, or 2) Tell the stranger strapped to your back that you are not down with this and to get the fuck back in the plane.

Both of these options are incredibly difficult. The first option goes against every natural instinct I have. I’m choosing to plummet 13,000 feet with the faith that the equipment I’ve never used and the man whose family I’ve never met don’t fuck up. The second option also goes against every instinct I have. It means being excruciatingly honest with what I actually want, what my true feelings are and owning myself and my limits with no ego.

Both of these terrify to me. But what terrifies me the most, is if I had followed my initial survival instinct and never got on the plane to begin with.

Maybe the next audition, rehearsal, shoot or whatever we go on, maybe we should be a little more reckless with ourselves. Maybe we should double check that our instincts have not clouded our courage. Maybe one day we should go against everything we know to be “right” so we can define our own version of survival.

Lean into the tornado, jump out of the airplane, release the ego, kiss the fucking girl. Maybe the next time we step on stage we should fuck our survival instincts and live like it’s our last day.