I am a novice when it comes to acting. Not only did I hold various assumptions about the talent required, thinking it was no big deal, but I also believed acting was for those who couldn’t do anything else.
Recently, I had an epiphany, a newfound respect for actors, when I realized that acting isn’t just impromptu. It’s rehearsed. And it’s not just a monologue all the time. There is a group of people working together to present a real-life situation in the most convincing way possible. I now understand why the term “timing” was coined.
An actor already knows what will come next, yet they still hold the expressions the scene demands. They know their next line, but they wait patiently for their turn, responding as though hearing it for the first time. And while they wait, they don’t look bored or fake their reactions, they seem to be immersed in that character and that’s the mark of a great actor.
This got me thinking about the mystery in our own lives. What if we knew what was coming next? Could we still stay present and play our part convincingly?
If we knew we were going to die, get hurt, or lose everything, could we still be as happy in the present moment as we are now, oblivious to the future? Personally, I doubt that about myself.
If we can’t even be good actors in the small plays of life, how could we expect to be good humans if we knew our fate beforehand? Would living still be as exhilarating if we knew exactly how it would unfold?
Actors don’t just play one role in their lifetime, they embody many. With each character, they get to live as sinners and saints, lovers and villains. They don’t just recite lines; they feel what their characters feel, diving deep into the emotional and spiritual depths of those experiences. Maybe that gives them an unusual perspective, a glimpse into different kinds of human existence. They witness what it means to be selfish or selfless, cruel or kind, broken or whole.
In real life, they probably get to choose who they want to be, based on those experiences.
And that made me wonder—as humans, do we experience something similar? If we believe in multiple lifetimes, could it be that, deep down, we remember the lessons from each? Maybe not consciously, but somewhere in the fabric of our being, we carry those experiences, shaping the way we choose to live.
If we could see all the beads on the string of life—every role we’ve ever played, every lesson we’ve ever learned—would we finally understand why we are here? Would it make us better? Or is the forgetting just as essential as the remembering?
It makes me wonder, are we all just actors in the grand play of existence, striving for our final standing ovation?
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