The dumb one, the smart one, and the monk

I feel like inside me there is a dumb one, a smart one, and a monk. The dumb me just wants to rehearse, write, paint, read, have deep conversations that last for years, dance, eat, make love, take hot showers, and sleep.

The smart one wants RESULTS out of all that process -- it wants to be famous, have published books, created companies, be rolling in wealth. It wants to breakthrough to some new level of what a theatre company is capable of, doing work no one has ever seen before. It loves adventure, surprises, learning, new experiences, new people, money, competition, and sweat. It's a long-strided being.

The monk wants to talk to god and sing. Rehearsing is one continuous conversation with god, as is... hmm, well, everything, come to think of it.

But -- we all need the smart one. Like now, drifting without direction, we're all just kind of hanging out waiting for the smart one to figure out a course and get us going. It's the smart one who will get us more time in better rehearsal rooms with committed actors and ever harder, funner artistic challenges.

Yeah, we all need the smart one. In my invisible inner theatre, I've got 250 guys standing around smoking and one project manager who's not asking for help. C'mon, honey, I say to her. Here, we'll help. Let's go take a hot shower. (Most of the guys stand up and put out their cigarettes, relieved. A few head out back to the river. A couple others lie down for a nap. A few just vanish, uninterested. Three stay where they're sitting, still smoking, deep in some discussion I cannot make out.)