Exit, Stage Left

I sense that I have left, or perhaps I’m in the process of leaving the stage.  Shakespeare famously wrote, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”  Once, I’m sure I agreed.  Today, my perspective has dramatically shifted. 

I find myself in a different space, one where the roles I’ve played in my past feel like a script I was impressed to follow in a series of windows through which I’ve observed life and if I wanted to stop watching and step in, I could only do so if I acted according to script.  And now, I’m learning not to act, and essentially leaving the stage, because the idea of stepping into the scene - another’s scene - seems forced.  

The greatest driver for me getting on the stage and entering a scene was a sense of obligation to meet expectation and fulfill responsibility, but ultimately to control an outcome.  However, in learning to let go of my attachment to outcomes and in combination with embracing a natural unfolding of my life, I no longer feel compelled to inhabit a role others may want me to play, or play themselves.

For decades, I’ve played a lot of parts and worn a lot of costumes…student, athlete, banker, coach, manager, leader, husband, father, son.  Each role came with its own set of expectations, often imposed by others.  I sometimes felt the weight of expectation pressing down on me, like a costume that was too tight.  It could be suffocating.  Seemingly, there all too often was a forced part to play—a pretentiousness or pretending that I believed was necessary to fulfill the demands of the moment.  It was as if I was continually rehearsing for a performance that I never truly wanted to be in.  And then I’d be in it.

In fairness, but maybe not obviously as I write what I write here, I certainly loved some of the roles I’ve played.  My questions and critique are more about how and/or why I played them.  I love playing the role of father.  My own father offered me a great blueprint for being one.  But even in that role, I had to ultimately accept that I would be beating my own drum.  And I should.

In playing the theater of life, I felt the need to meet established expectations so strongly, they inherently become my own if they weren’t mine to begin with.  How many times did I conform to a narrative that didn’t truly, honestly resonate with me?  The irony is while I played my part, I often felt so disconnected.  Makes me think that Shakespeare, in his wisdom, may have been mistaken.  The world isn’t merely a stage we walk upon; it’s a complex tapestry of experiences, emotions, and connections that we weave together in our own unique way.

We’ve been conditioned to think of life as a performance, a game where winning means achieving dreams that are often not our own.  I believe many of us, myself included, have played this game to compete for our dreams, but what of these dreams?  Are they genuinely ours, or simply echoes of the desires and expectations handed down to us?  Pictures painted by others, scripts written to give us a sense of purpose, yet perhaps lacking the authenticity we crave?

I’ve come to realize that I no longer want to be an actor in someone else’s play.  I don’t wish to pretend to fulfill dreams that don’t resonate with my heart and soul.  Instead, I seek to honor the whispers of my intuition, that deeper part of me that knows what truly matters.  Isn’t it the heart that bears the burden of suffering, or rejoices when expectations are met or unmet?  Why not allow the heart to guide us in crafting our own stories rather than blindly adhering to the scripts handed to us? And shouldn’t the soul be the true source of the narrative we write for ourselves?

For some time now, I’ve been intentional about focusing on imagination, curiosity, and creativity.  I’ve often written about envisioning a future for myself, dreaming dreams and aspirations.  But what I’ve missed in this pursuit is that my imagination isn’t merely a tool to sculpt a dream; it’s an invitation to embrace the freedom of my heart and soul to awaken unscripted. They alone know the script I am meant to follow, the role I am destined to fulfill.

This awakening has led me to explore the beauty of authenticity, the joy of living without the burden of expectation.  I’ve begun to realize that life is not a scripted performance; it’s meant to be a more natural dance—fluid, spontaneous, and often unpredictable.  Each step we take a reflection of a script we write, if we allow it.  The heart has its own rhythm, its own melody, and when I tune into that, I can find something symphonic that resonates with my soul.  But much of which I feel now I knew nothing of until it presented itself…offstage.

I’m learning to embrace the uncertainty that comes with letting go of roles.  Itself a story that will have no end.  It’s both liberating and terrifying.  I no longer feel the need to fit myself into the molds that society has created.  There’s a sense of freedom in stepping off stage, in allowing myself to be who I can be, rather than who I think I should be.  I can now explore the vast landscape of my existence without predefined limits, without the confines of a script.

Leaving the stage has me discovering the power of presence.  Rather than worrying about the next act or the final bow, I’m learning to immerse myself in the moment.  Each experience becomes a brushstroke on the canvas of my life, contributing to a work that is uniquely mine.  It’s in these moments that I find joy—when I’m fully engaged with the world around me, when I’m not just playing a part but truly living.

In shedding the need for validation through performance, I’m no longer seeking approval through the eyes of others; instead, I seek to honor my own heart’s desires.  Which, of course, may be to have the loving approval of at least my wife and sons.  I don’t see how I shake that.  Though I still know, I can’t be pretending to appease them and still expect their genuine love and approval.  All a work-in-progress, but not a rehearsal of a role to be played.

Walking through departure of my ‘acting career’, I simply want to explore what it means to live a life that is true to my values, my passions, and my dreams.  I want to be driven not by the fear of judgment or the need to impress, but by the desire to live the life that’s mine.  

Stepping off Shakespeare’s stage, I can imagine there is not one stage but many.  That the stage I am to perform on is one built by my soul and the script is a personal honest biography being written by my heart.  With each sunrise a new act.  Each moment the start of a new scene.  On any day, if another would like to come see this play, they may just trust it’s not acting.  All else of what they may think?  I won’t be charging admission so no matter at all.