Every actor starting a career needs to learn this true thing : they need you as much as you need them! Heck...every seasoned, deeply experienced actor needs to remember this lesson as well...because for the most part, actors who are…

It’s a lesson every actor needs to learn:

[continuing a little story: two friends, one whose dog is ill, they're in the vet ER late at night. They're in an exam room] I can't just wait here while they look at his blood. Raul groans a second time…

“It is I you have been looking for,” the giant said to the pygmy. “I’ll give you a ride.” “Thank you, kind sir.” The pygmy, tired of walking, climbed aboard the giant’s vast arm. “And what can I do for…

"The color of blood is red, the blood that runs in all our veins," began Father Bill. "Every day we have moments when we can actually consciously choose whether to harden our heart or to open it! Whether to express…

I had the album of Otis Redding singing live in some famous Paris venue in the late 60s. I used to play “Try a Little Tenderness” over and over. Not only does he give it is all, his voice is…

The Buddha made it simple to understand, like those yellow-colored, thick paperbacks stacked on the bottom shelf, in all the sections of bookstores, Suffering for Dummies. My copy’s pages are dog-eared, yellow-highlighted and coffee stained. The first chapter starts something…

They all lay around on the quilts and blankets , the grandma-squared afghans, the soiled sheets, as the music from the stage blared so loudly that even their ragtag group, situated as they were miles from the performance, could hear…

“Be kind to yourself.” That’s the advice that’s given. Given by whom? Well, by wherever or whomever you have turned to with a complaint, a lament, a dilemma. And what does it mean, really? I think not to feel guilty.…

When my friend Kari moved to Paris to study mime (she was already a street mime in San Francisco, where we met) with Jean Louis Barrault, she knew very little French. I visited her when she had been there eight…

“It’s the same when love comes an end.” He stopped digging and looked up. “What? What’s the same?” “The tomatoes wilting.” “Tomatoes?” He leaned back on his haunches, the dirty spade clutched in his hand. He gestured with it. “End…

It's the same glowing satisfaction when love arrives at its desired end, yet I'll never get tired of love, my blood calls for it again & again, thought Vince. In Art class, he'd started a vivid red canvas meant to…