Permission granted

When did you have that moment?
You know the one.
It's the moment you stepped out of your head as an actor, gave yourself over to the experience, and surprised even yourself with the emotional connections you had made with the story and the scene partner you shared it with.
I didn't fully trust such an experience existed for me. I was a very technical-minded man. I learned my lines by rote, knew the story inside and out. I became almost encyclopedic in my knowledge of the script and characters I would interact with.
The trouble I had was making the words, the character, mine. Of me.
I still felt like an outsider looking in. I may as well have been one of the audience for all the connection I had to what was going on in front of me.
I was too prepared with what I intended to deliver. I knew the words, but they were never my own.
The reason?
I had never allowed them to be about me. I was deeply guarded with myself. I had big blocks, subconscious ones that demanded I get no closer to the truth of a scene than I was prepared to go.
I wasn't prepared to go very far.
It's human nature. We hide the ugliest things about ourselves. Boy we try, at least. We shield our complexities and warts behind all manner of psychological defenses.
Acting, to me, is about showing the truth, our individual truth, to the world. By so doing, we grant permission to the audience to witness it, be inspired by that bravery and perchance look a little deeper into themselves.
If you, as an actor, are not prepared to show the truth, what are you doing up on that stage?
When my own walls were laid bare to me, thankfully in the safe confines of a classroom, it shocked me. I had no idea how much I was bottling, hiding and tucking away. I was denying myself all of this inner-life for fear of being exposed.
But exposed to what?
Your inner-life is just that. Your own.
I knew I had these tools within me. I had access to the entirety of my emotional self. It turned out what I had lacked was permission.
It took a strong teacher to show me these blocks, and then grant me permission to remove them. I was denying my personal feelings about the scene, making it ring untrue. I learned whatever feeling I was quieting was precisely what the scene called for and I had to grant it full measure. To do otherwise would make my work pointless.
The next piece I did as an actor outside of the classroom, I learned my lines. I knew the story.
Then I forgot about it.
I allowed the moment to take me wherever it would. It took me places I had never dreamed I was capable of going.
That was the moment I knew I had something to give, not just say.