I spent the better part of the week in an intensive workshop-like writing process with a friend. We got an amazing amount done in a short period, but we refrained from the scripting of any dialogue, sticking solely to the outline process. Naturally, you start hearing lines you’d like to include.

It would seem that the majority of them came rushing forth in the night, and, if memory serves… it was brilliant stuff. Only I didn’t write any of it down, and now I can’t remember a word of it. Which leads me back to an old nemesis: the difficulty of getting up in the night to write things down.

I’ve tried everything. Pads at the ready. Tape recorders. Digital recorders. Special flashlight pens.

My writing mentor in college told me that it wasn’t worth doing. His experience was that what he thought were strokes of genius at 3am, divinely inspired, were in fact peals of useless drivel. Better, he suggested, to go back to sleep and start fresh in the morning.

Maybe.

It occurs to me there might be an alternative. Having experienced first hand how a practice of mindfulness and meditation has changed the way I think, I believe the mind can be trained to do marvelous things. My experience aside, I know also that the cab drivers of London show greater development in the hippocampus, the area of the brain dedicated to spacial memory and navigation, because of their profession.

So, is it not possible to train the mind to retain these passing thoughts in the night, and determine later whether its worthy of a Nobel, or meant for the scrap heap? I’m going to try. My guess is there might be something worth salvaging amidst the ramblings.

Either way, any exercise of the mind should help me wake up, in some way, and that’s really the ultimate pursuit…

It can all lead to a dubious relationship with reality, and I can see how ignoring Right Mindfulness has hurt me at times. My path has been a strange one: I have had experiences that flirted with stardom, from high powered meetings for leading roles with A-list directors, to being pursued by paparazzi through the streets of London and Tokyo, and yet on any given day a few people may point at me on the subway, but that’s about as far as it goes right now.

Still, it becomes tempting to think, “but I am this other thing,” when it is not the reality. It may be a reality, and while the things I alluded to did happen, they do not represent the whole. A healthy dose of clear consciousness to see things as they are is always welcome. It can relieve frustrations and make space for professional progress and personal happiness.

Years ago, I was fortunate enough to work with a wonderful actor who had once enjoyed great fame but had fallen to distinct B-list status. He never stopped smiling on set, and his good humor was infectious. Over drinks one evening I asked him bluntly why he was so happy, and he told me that he gets to make his living do what he wants to do, he has a wonderful family and home, and considered himself the luckiest guy on the planet.  He knew he was no longer a hot commodity, but he didn’t care. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I was looking at a portrait of Right Mindfulness.

And if you look at the four foundations of mindfulness: contemplation of the body, of feeling, of state, and of the unknown, you’re reading the basis of every discourse on acting that’s ever been written, from Aristotle to Stanislavsky. We all might want to spend a little more time here on step number 7 of the Eightfold Path…

Tomorrow, Right Concentration, something that is being challenged to no end by modern technology.

I witnessed a stunning display of acting douchebaggery that made Narcissus seem like Christ on the cross.  While getting high praise on a scene, it was indeed very good, mind you, an actor was disturbed that there was noise going on behind him and that he wasn’t getting total silence for his grand review.  The noise, it should be noted, was other actors setting up for the next scene.  That’s how these things go.  We share time and space.

But the noise was interfering with the glorious cascade of compliments, so this man turned around and yelled, “Silenzio!”  (For the record, I don’t think he’s Italian.)

Now, the calling for silence, in a foreign language, would be enough to qualify for the Arrogance Hall of Fame, but wait, there’s more.  Some time later, said actor was setting up for a second scene of the day, which raises some questions in itself, but that’s for another time.  Well, it turns out that moving furniture makes noise, whaddaya know, and was now interfering with others getting their notes.  When this was pointed out to Signor Silenzio, he responded plaintively, “Well, we have to set up the stage.”

Alas, when somebody is so incapable of thinking of anyone but themselves, it is a steep climb out of the rabbit hole.  It can be done, but it requires a desire.  That would be desiderio.  And because I’m feeling generous, I’m going to toss in cortesia and considerazione for free.

Please.  Be nice.  Think of others.  Even if you’re an actor.  Your life will improve immensely.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

Some people go for therapy, others for chocolate, and sometimes these things work.  How long they last is anybody’s guess, but there is one thing that has to precede any prescription for change, and that is desire.  That is, if the desire for change is there, then any manner of things will work, and work quickly.  Taking long hikes is the cure-all, if you believe that taking long hikes is the cure-all.  If you don’t, then you get blisters and nothing more.  Jumping up and down and yelling, “Booga booga booga” for fifteen minutes a day is another option, and again, you’ll either feel better, or feel stupid.  It could be pez, it doesn’t really matter…

The good news is that we all have whatever we need already.  It’s already within us.  It’s part of our survivalist nature, our ability to do what we have to do when we need to do it.  It’s hardwired into the brain, and is the energy that keeps us going through the roughest patches of life.  What we lack, perhaps, is the skill to use it to its fullest means, or, dare I say it, a little mindfulness about its presence within.  At any rate, the answer is already there.  Look no further than your belief in yourself.

This faith needs to be cultivated, of course, but it’s there.  I have it.  You have it.  The guy who can’t hold down a job has it.  (Amazing how he always finds another job, isn’t it?)  And if this sounds like a chapter from a “Be the Best You!” book, so be it.  I don’t really care what it’s called.  I just know what works.

And I believe it.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

The commercialization of consciousness is a hazardous trend.  It will make it harder to find honest gurus.  Not only will their voices get drowned out in cacophonous turf wars, but it discards a basic tenet of the Buddhist path, that teachings should be offered for free, and that benefaction should be up to the student.  Most places I practice either ask nothing other than what you’re willing to give, or as little as possible in order to keep the lights on.  As a friend of mine put it, “The measure of whether somebody cares about your well-being is whether they would offer their services for nothing.  If they wouldn’t, then it’s about them, not you.”

In truth, my journey to the practice of mindfulness started with commercial introductions.  When I decided my days and ways had to change, I turned to the most visible self-help sources on the block, people like Dale Carnegie, Tony Robbins and Deepak Chopra.  I took what I liked, followed their suggestions to keep searching, and eventually made my way to the study of Buddhism, where I’ve not only saved a fortune, but have undergone a greater transformation in nine months than I had in nine years.

What concerns me most is that mindfulness will be corrupted into something that requires the practitioner get stuck in some vicious cycle of “see you next week” therapy.  Psychologists seem to have an eye on their future and have begun bringing mindfulness into their fold.  Courses and books on the intersection of the two practices are popping up everywhere.  (I will be attending one such class this week.  Yes, I’m curious.)  But the pursuit of happiness should not be a commercial enterprise.  As soon as it becomes such, it will require unhappiness be a constant undercurrent.  It’s the only way to ensure repeat business.

This trend will disappear, of course, replaced by another latest and greatest way to fix you in ten easy steps.  Thankfully the practice of mindfulness, dating back some 2,500 years, will not disappear.  So if you’ve got an inclination to look into it, may I suggest caution with the source dispensing the teachings.  By all means start with the commercial.  Just… be mindful.

Perhaps it can be your first act.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

I have felt bad about this ever since.

It was, perhaps, the beginning of my practice of mindfulness, as I vowed never to say anything that could cause harm.  And since that time… my words have caused harm many thousands of times, I’m sure.  But the awareness is the practice, and I have learned to catch myself as I stumble, and I know I’m a better man for my consciousness.

Last week I went to a meditation center that I often frequent.  I arrived early for the sitting and sat in the lobby and shut my eyes for a moment.  (The greatest skill I fully possess is the ability to catnap, nearly anywhere, at any time, and this seemed like an opportune moment for a quick snooze.  If there was such a thing as “Right Napping” I would be a Buddha.)  Moments later, I was awoken by a ghastly smell, one that I vaguely recognized.  Sitting across from me was a young woman chomping away at a bag of McDonalds burgers and fries.

My mind leaped from one angry place to another like a grasshopper.  How inconsiderate!  Bringing food here!  And how horrible to bring McDonalds, of all things!  It’s not difficult to guess the societal, ethical and health inclinations of most people here, and suffice it to say that Mickey D’s is antithetical to most of them.

It dawned on me that I’d seen this young woman before.  A week or so prior she had been yammering away about her new cell phone, at full volume for all to hear, despite there being a group meditation taking place in a nearby room, and a talk being given in another.  Her again.  A completely mindless being!  I looked over and studied her face.  She bore down on her food with all the grace of a hyena, with a far away stare, as bits of food fell to the floor or stuck to her lips.  It was revolting, and I left.

Days later I revisited the scene.  Though I didn’t say anything, I wondered about my reaction.  I had rushed to judgment, I leapt to an emotional response, and I allowed something rather trivial to get under my skin.  But suddenly a light went on in my head, and I felt terrible.  What was going on dawned on me.  This woman may have been mentally challenged.  I don’t say this as a joke, but the loud talking, and even the rhythms of her speech as I now recalled them, combined with the sloppy eating and vacant look, pointed firmly towards the possibility.

I stopped in the street as I realized what had transpired.  And a few choice words came ringing through my head.  “Whadya do?  Have your brain replaced?”

Well, no, but I’m working on it.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

I’ve said before that I believe in choice of focus.  And I do.  It’s not always easy, but we can decide what to think about, how to feel about it, and who to be.  Uncontrolled thoughts will arise, of course, this is perfectly natural, but what we do with them is largely an exercise in free will.  And like any other skill in life, it requires a learning curve, practice, failure and more practice.  But we must never lose sight of the fact – yes, fact – that the possibility for change exists.

I told a friend that I’m getting better at my focus, laying my success rate at “9 out of 10 times” for making the positive choice.  I went further and said that I’d like to get that up to “99 out of 100″ and then “999 out of 1,000.”  Since that seemed pretty darn good, I left it there.  But I took some delight that my instinct was to leave room for the one bad choice, or failure, or letdown, or whatever we want to call it.  For without the one, the 9, 99 and 999 don’t exist.  Without the one, there is nothing to learn from.  Without the one, we have no touchstone.  In a word, without the suffering, we have no shot at happiness.  Does this mean that those who suffer will be happy?  Not necessarily.  There’s the small matter of mindfulness in between, that is, the recognition of having the choice.  Eureka!  Awareness is all!  I must share this revelation with everybody!

(Pause.)

There’s a particular satisfaction in arriving at the same conclusions much wiser people came to 2,500 years ago.  You feel at once enlightened – “Hey, I got there, too!” – and a bit of a lovable dunce.

Emphasis on the lovable.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

A typical day for me can look something like this: wake up, meditate, write in my journal, go to the gym, morning meeting/audition, lunch… somewhere, maybe with a friend, find a spot to perch for an hour or so, often the library, then maybe a class or another meeting, find another spot to perch, do some kind of acting related thing like go to the Drama Bookshop or meet a photographer, and finally an event or evening of theatre before heading home.  In between there are a lot of subways and walks.  And I do it all alone, the great irony being that I went into acting, in part, because I thought it would be a collaborative thing to do, filled with a lot of people and interactions and goofing around with cute girls.  But the truth of it is that it’s a very solitary affair.

The other day I received some nice news.  I can’t share it yet as it’s not official, but it could turn out to be a good thing for me.  And I wanted to celebrate.  But it quickly occurred to me that there was nobody to do this with.  After the phone call I looked up and turned around to find… nobody.  There were no co-workers to invite for lunch or drinks, no pats on the back from Jerry in accounts payable, no… nothing.  Just me and the guy on the corner ranting about Jesus.  And quite frankly, he wasn’t all that interested, no matter how much I tried to convince him that I would give my soul to the Lord if he would pretend to be Jerry from accounts payable just for a few minutes.  So it ended up being me and the Beatles later in the evening, and we knocked back a few and sang our old favorites.

I wouldn’t trade my life.  I enjoy my freedom and consider the island of Manhattan to be my office – it’s very nice – but it can be awfully lonely out there sometimes.  Especially when the good things happen, which makes no sense.  These can be the most isolating moments.  This isn’t said for sympathy, but rather as an act of mindfulness.  Better to recognize it than pretend otherwise.  It just… is.  So back I go, to the streets, to find another coffee shop that won’t be annoyed if I just sit there and read for an hour.  I’ll be the guy with the backpack and raincoat looking for a spot to charge his phone.  If you want to come over and say hello, please do, but I’ll have to leave again in a few minutes and turn my collar to the cold and damp, celebrating with the pavement preachers if they’ll give me the time.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

Once again it seems my spiritual practice is dovetailing with my professional life.  I study meditation.  That may sound strange.  What is there to study?  You just sit there and do nothing, right?  It’s a little more complicated than that.  At any rate, I do study, and I have a wonderful teacher, who last week raised the distinction between “letting go” and “letting be.”  It’s subtle, but important.  “Letting go” can often lead to further frustration, if, in fact, the thing in question – anger, fear, resentment, whatever it is – isn’t let go of.  Now you’re stuck with the original thorn in your side, only it has been twisted.  “Letting be,” on the other hand asks only that you accept that the anger, fear, resentment is allowed to exist.  That’s all.  It just… is.  I’m frustrated, I’m angry, I’m afraid.  So be it.  It’s just a feeling.  It will work it’s way off on its own, as you simply observe it.  In fact, you might even try to befriend it.  Stop me if I’m moving to fast.  But try it.  You’ll see.

Anyway, I had an audition today.  Nothing that was going to change my life, but interesting enough to get me down there.  About ten seconds into the reading, I could hear a voice in the back of my head saying, “Hey, this, too, is something to just let be.  It’s not unpleasant at all, but let’s just let it be.”  I’m in a room.  I’m reading a few pages.  Somebody is recording the event.  This is what is happening right now.  And a remarkable thing happened.  I found myself intensely more relaxed and comfortable, and more able to listen to the words coming at me.  The old joke is that actors memorize their scripts in the following way: My line.  Blah, blah, blah.  My line.  Blah, blah, blah.  My line.  And I’m sure I’ve falling into this trap as well.  But not today.  Simply letting things be cleared the space to take it all in, as if I were more than one person.  The guy speaking, the guy listening, and the guy observing the event as a whole.  No one part was dominating, and in the end I felt light and refreshed.

As I left the building and headed for the subway I fairly floated through the crisp New York autumn air, grinning like a doofus.  Maybe there’s something to this studying thing after all…

And I’ll get back to you about what happens if I don’t get the offer.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

As an actor, I don’t always get to choose my words, so I’m often called upon to say things that have nothing to do with me, but I say them nonetheless because somebody sticks money in my pocket, and, truth be told, I like playing pretend, so it all works out.  But there have been occasions in which I have been asked to do or say things that portray an ideology I do not subscribe to, or even cuts against many of my core values.  I have struggled with this of late, particularly in the face of a Buddhist concept known as “right speech.”  Right speech means avoiding four types of harmful speech: lies (words spoken with the intent of misrepresenting the truth); divisive speech (words spoken with the intent of creating rifts between people); harsh speech (words spoken with the intent of hurting another person’s feelings); and idle chatter or gossip (spoken with no purposeful intent at all).  Put in the positive, it means speaking in ways to promote happiness and be uplifting without sounding like you just snorted an eight ball of Prozac.

But as I wrestled with this idea of whether I was a good or bad person for projecting characters on screens that have less than the world’s best interests in mind or are simply corporate shills for horribly companies  was a form of right speech, it dawned on me that I was not even certain I was practicing right speech in my own life, the one if which I do get to choose the words.  And if that were the case, shouldn’t I get that house in order before worrying about the rest.  So I went through the list.  I don’t lie, I don’t engage in harsh speech or gossip, but I am capable of divisive speech.  I confess.  Not too often, I thought, but enough for me to know it’s a tool in my toolbox that I should probably retire.

The best remedy, it seemed to me, was to stop.  Cold turkey.  So I made a pact with myself.  As best as I could, I would be more mindful of what I was saying, careful not to let anything pass from my lips that could be divisive.  Simple enough.  But I have had to go nearly silent, for what I discovered was that my instinct is to use divisive speech frequently, and as I really examined my conversations, emails and texts I saw that nearly every one – that involved any degree of perceptivity – was tinged with something that could cause a disturbance for the recipient.  Texting “I’ll be there in five minutes” doesn’t really warrant too much examination, but responding to a text with “is this one of your five minutes?” is another story.  It may seem subtle, but the slight is built in.  Often it’s couched in humor, but the underlying truth is that there is often a little seed in there, that, if watered, could turn into a tree of rifts.

It was shocking, to say the least, and I consider myself a pretty decent person, all in all.  But I’m going to go for it.  Right speech.  So, here I go.  Wish me luck.

See, I really wanted to say something cynical there.

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.