Check out this interview I did recently for "A Body for Radio," the podcast of The Apothetae theatre in New York City. The Apothetae's founder, Gregg Mozgala, poses some questions about theatre training for actors with disabilities.
The Apothetae - A Body for Radio 12/13/12
Saturday, December 15, 2012
The Quantum Theory of Regan
I'm a big fan of words. Choosing them wisely, knowing their meaning, comparing them. (Miniature side tangent...what is with the resurgence of the word "retard"? Maybe it never un-surged, but recently I've noticed people using it more frequently. Personally, I think it gets thrown around too much. Like many other slang terms, it's hurtful towards a certain population of people, and those who utter it are often unaware of its impact. Moreover, this population often doesn't have a voice to defend itself, so "retard" is a coward's insult. And even MORE over, there are SO many more interesting insults!!! Taking a cue from Shakespeare, how about a froward, fat-kidneyed flax-wench? Or, a pribbling, elf-skinned maggot-pie? Come on, folks, be a little more creative.)
Back to my point. I love words, and recently I was thinking about two specific words and the way in which they relate to my life choices and my acting: PROBABILITY and POSSIBILITY.
I believe that anything is possible. So does quantum physics. In fact, according to the basic quantum physics lessons I have acquired from a recent reading of Stephen Hawking's book The Grand Design, as well as a couple of PBS NOVA shows (which obviously makes me an expert...ha), quantum theory hypothesizes that every particle of matter - whether it be a photon, human, or galaxy - has infinite possible histories. In moving from point A to point B, we travel every possible pathway, and it is simply that one of these pathways in being observed in our present reality that makes it "real." The way I like to interpret this is to say that I am essentially living every possible outcome of my life at once; at this juncture I'm a baker, a lawyer, a doctor, a mother, or still standing on two feet. Regan being a wheelchair-using actor is simply one of a multitude of pathways.
In addition, quantum physics asserts that you cannot predict the future. You can only predict the probability of a certain outcome. So, from this point forward, anything is possible for me. Or you. Or anyone. I could become an Oscar Award Winner. I could also un-paralyze myself.
Now, here's where the the word distinction comes in. Just because something is POSSIBLE doesn't mean that it's particularly PROBABLE. It is POSSIBLE that I could win an Oscar or feel and move my lower half again, but the PROBABILITY of either of these occurring is likely lower than me becoming a paralegal. Or a trash truck driver. However, that doesn't necessarily deter me, since I know the possibility exists. As Jim Carrey's character holds on to the slim possibility of dating his dream woman in Dumb and Dumber - "So, you're saying there's a chance!" - I will honor (albeit hesitantly) the possibility that I could win an Oscar, or walk again.
On occasion, another person will jubilantly propose one of these possibilities to me, as though it is something I've never considered. It happened to me frequently after my car accident. "You know," he/she would say, "you never know what could happen. I saw this article/video/news story about a guy who (insert inspirational miracle story here), and so you never know." And, even though at times my inner self would say, "You crazy, insensitive, rude-ass mofo, you have no idea what you're talking about, and you're taking me back to a place of darkness where I have no desire to be"...I would never say this. Because, when it came down to it, this crazy, insensitive, rude-ass mofo was right: I could not prove that this possibility of me walking again or being healed was false. It may be improbable, but not impossible. So says quantum physics.
While we CAN predict human patterns and probabilities, but we cannot predict the future. We cannot even fully explain our current existence. Humans can guess, and philosophize, and reason, and pray. But it ultimately comes back to our lived experience, here and now, coupled with belief, or faith...whatever you want to call it. For me, I'm paralyzed from an injury. And, let's be honest, this could mean that my body, a living organism that is now slightly compromised, could expire sooner than others. And don't say, "Oh, Regan, don't say that, you never know." True, I don't know for sure, but it's more probable. I might die sooner that other people who don't have the complications of a spinal cord injury, such as premature osteoporosis, decreased circulation, skin breakdown, atrophy, etc. etc. It's a here-and-now fact that I'm at peace with, so just deal with it. :-)
And in fact, I feel empowered by it. If ANYTHING is possible, why not spend individual resources pursuing the one possibility that I'm most passionate about, no matter how slight, rather that going for the possibility that is more probable, but not my truest passion?
I posed a question to several friends tonight: if you had the choice of living the next ten years of your life doing exactly what you feel passionate about, or spending those ten years not pursuing your passion but engaging in activities that would buy you an additional ten years, what would you do? Being that my friends are mostly passionate artistic actors, they all chose the former: live fewer years, but do what you're passionate about.
As I've worked my way through the MFA acting program at UCSD, there's no question it's taken a toll on me...physically, mentally, emotionally, every "lly" you can think of, and I still have half a year left. I often reach check-in points at the end of a quarter where I realize that I've been more tired, in pain, and run-down than I had realized. In my day-or-so of exhausted wallowing I often ask, is this worth it? Should I continue on this intense path of being an actor, even if it depletes my already-compromised resources more rapidly? Or, should I abandon the struggle of acting and direct my resources to something that might be more "healthy," like intense physical rehab-like training that could lead me toward the possibility of regaining some function that I had thought was lost for good, and might buy me more years? Will my life truly be more meaningful if it lasts longer, or if I live it with a smidgeon of more tingling in my psoas muscle?
Ultimately, everyone has a different answer. Some will take a paralegal position or trash truck job in order to buy the space they need to pursue their greatest passion. They make a sacrifice, but they gain the opportunity to live in what they love during the off-time. Or, some will be the paralegal or trash truck driver simply because it's easier than another road, and they don't have the energy for anything more. And others will cringe at the thought of a paralegal or trash truck career. But no one can be faulted for how they decide to manage their life resources (unless they're knowingly hurting or inhibiting someone else).
I will likely always wrestle with the question of what is "best" for me, particularly because I don't have my very own Stephen Hawking who sits next to me at Starbucks and calculates the probabilities of my life in order to direct me one way. "Stephen, how's your Frappucino?" I'd ask. "Well, Regan, my taste buds say it's good. But if I may, my Frappucino should not be your concern. Your personal quantum statistical analysis says you should stop spending your money on alternative health modalities and get headshots, because the probability of you getting cast on Modern Family is .000023% greater than that of you regaining feeling in your right trochanter." Right-o, Stephen. (Perhaps this scenario is a reality in another dimension of space-time.)
Yet, even if I cannot have my life statistically analyzed by quantum theorists, I have life experience that reinforces quantum theory: I cannot predict the future. Eleven years ago when I was forecasting the next decade, my predictions were all WAY off. But the reality of my current life, despite - or perhaps because of - challenges or pain or struggle, is more glorious than I ever could have predicted.
In addition, quantum theories also assert that the abnormalities of the universe are what allowed for life to be possible. I cannot predict whether I'll be around for 50 years, or a week. But, wheeling around in my chair, I am essentially an abnormality of the universe, or at least of our present reality. So, perhaps in my Abby Normal (thank you, Young Frankenstein) embodiment, I could function like a small window out of this present reality to something we've never considered. In a way, my existence as an injured person who now lives within a slightly modified set of physical properties is more miraculous than if I were to walk again.
So, back to POSSIBILITY and PROBABILITY, and throwing my resources toward doing what I love and chasing that dream of a life in performance, or using my resources to try to prolong my existence, and regain feeling, movement, and function that I've lost in my body.
If I focus on living the existence I've been dealt - no matter how long it lasts or how far it gets me - rather than spending my time trying to get back to some human ideal I no longer embody, which will be more fruitful? In the end, which will make me more proud of the life I've led?
All I can say is, I hope to take something that's POSSIBLE, and make it PROBABLE. Or, if nothing else, I'll die trying. Basically, they'd better figure out a way to get a wheeling person up on to the red carpet Oscar platforms with Ryan Seacrest, because I'm a-comin'.
Back to my point. I love words, and recently I was thinking about two specific words and the way in which they relate to my life choices and my acting: PROBABILITY and POSSIBILITY.
I believe that anything is possible. So does quantum physics. In fact, according to the basic quantum physics lessons I have acquired from a recent reading of Stephen Hawking's book The Grand Design, as well as a couple of PBS NOVA shows (which obviously makes me an expert...ha), quantum theory hypothesizes that every particle of matter - whether it be a photon, human, or galaxy - has infinite possible histories. In moving from point A to point B, we travel every possible pathway, and it is simply that one of these pathways in being observed in our present reality that makes it "real." The way I like to interpret this is to say that I am essentially living every possible outcome of my life at once; at this juncture I'm a baker, a lawyer, a doctor, a mother, or still standing on two feet. Regan being a wheelchair-using actor is simply one of a multitude of pathways.
In addition, quantum physics asserts that you cannot predict the future. You can only predict the probability of a certain outcome. So, from this point forward, anything is possible for me. Or you. Or anyone. I could become an Oscar Award Winner. I could also un-paralyze myself.
Now, here's where the the word distinction comes in. Just because something is POSSIBLE doesn't mean that it's particularly PROBABLE. It is POSSIBLE that I could win an Oscar or feel and move my lower half again, but the PROBABILITY of either of these occurring is likely lower than me becoming a paralegal. Or a trash truck driver. However, that doesn't necessarily deter me, since I know the possibility exists. As Jim Carrey's character holds on to the slim possibility of dating his dream woman in Dumb and Dumber - "So, you're saying there's a chance!" - I will honor (albeit hesitantly) the possibility that I could win an Oscar, or walk again.
On occasion, another person will jubilantly propose one of these possibilities to me, as though it is something I've never considered. It happened to me frequently after my car accident. "You know," he/she would say, "you never know what could happen. I saw this article/video/news story about a guy who (insert inspirational miracle story here), and so you never know." And, even though at times my inner self would say, "You crazy, insensitive, rude-ass mofo, you have no idea what you're talking about, and you're taking me back to a place of darkness where I have no desire to be"...I would never say this. Because, when it came down to it, this crazy, insensitive, rude-ass mofo was right: I could not prove that this possibility of me walking again or being healed was false. It may be improbable, but not impossible. So says quantum physics.
While we CAN predict human patterns and probabilities, but we cannot predict the future. We cannot even fully explain our current existence. Humans can guess, and philosophize, and reason, and pray. But it ultimately comes back to our lived experience, here and now, coupled with belief, or faith...whatever you want to call it. For me, I'm paralyzed from an injury. And, let's be honest, this could mean that my body, a living organism that is now slightly compromised, could expire sooner than others. And don't say, "Oh, Regan, don't say that, you never know." True, I don't know for sure, but it's more probable. I might die sooner that other people who don't have the complications of a spinal cord injury, such as premature osteoporosis, decreased circulation, skin breakdown, atrophy, etc. etc. It's a here-and-now fact that I'm at peace with, so just deal with it. :-)
And in fact, I feel empowered by it. If ANYTHING is possible, why not spend individual resources pursuing the one possibility that I'm most passionate about, no matter how slight, rather that going for the possibility that is more probable, but not my truest passion?
I posed a question to several friends tonight: if you had the choice of living the next ten years of your life doing exactly what you feel passionate about, or spending those ten years not pursuing your passion but engaging in activities that would buy you an additional ten years, what would you do? Being that my friends are mostly passionate artistic actors, they all chose the former: live fewer years, but do what you're passionate about.
As I've worked my way through the MFA acting program at UCSD, there's no question it's taken a toll on me...physically, mentally, emotionally, every "lly" you can think of, and I still have half a year left. I often reach check-in points at the end of a quarter where I realize that I've been more tired, in pain, and run-down than I had realized. In my day-or-so of exhausted wallowing I often ask, is this worth it? Should I continue on this intense path of being an actor, even if it depletes my already-compromised resources more rapidly? Or, should I abandon the struggle of acting and direct my resources to something that might be more "healthy," like intense physical rehab-like training that could lead me toward the possibility of regaining some function that I had thought was lost for good, and might buy me more years? Will my life truly be more meaningful if it lasts longer, or if I live it with a smidgeon of more tingling in my psoas muscle?
Ultimately, everyone has a different answer. Some will take a paralegal position or trash truck job in order to buy the space they need to pursue their greatest passion. They make a sacrifice, but they gain the opportunity to live in what they love during the off-time. Or, some will be the paralegal or trash truck driver simply because it's easier than another road, and they don't have the energy for anything more. And others will cringe at the thought of a paralegal or trash truck career. But no one can be faulted for how they decide to manage their life resources (unless they're knowingly hurting or inhibiting someone else).
I will likely always wrestle with the question of what is "best" for me, particularly because I don't have my very own Stephen Hawking who sits next to me at Starbucks and calculates the probabilities of my life in order to direct me one way. "Stephen, how's your Frappucino?" I'd ask. "Well, Regan, my taste buds say it's good. But if I may, my Frappucino should not be your concern. Your personal quantum statistical analysis says you should stop spending your money on alternative health modalities and get headshots, because the probability of you getting cast on Modern Family is .000023% greater than that of you regaining feeling in your right trochanter." Right-o, Stephen. (Perhaps this scenario is a reality in another dimension of space-time.)
Yet, even if I cannot have my life statistically analyzed by quantum theorists, I have life experience that reinforces quantum theory: I cannot predict the future. Eleven years ago when I was forecasting the next decade, my predictions were all WAY off. But the reality of my current life, despite - or perhaps because of - challenges or pain or struggle, is more glorious than I ever could have predicted.
In addition, quantum theories also assert that the abnormalities of the universe are what allowed for life to be possible. I cannot predict whether I'll be around for 50 years, or a week. But, wheeling around in my chair, I am essentially an abnormality of the universe, or at least of our present reality. So, perhaps in my Abby Normal (thank you, Young Frankenstein) embodiment, I could function like a small window out of this present reality to something we've never considered. In a way, my existence as an injured person who now lives within a slightly modified set of physical properties is more miraculous than if I were to walk again.
So, back to POSSIBILITY and PROBABILITY, and throwing my resources toward doing what I love and chasing that dream of a life in performance, or using my resources to try to prolong my existence, and regain feeling, movement, and function that I've lost in my body.
If I focus on living the existence I've been dealt - no matter how long it lasts or how far it gets me - rather than spending my time trying to get back to some human ideal I no longer embody, which will be more fruitful? In the end, which will make me more proud of the life I've led?
All I can say is, I hope to take something that's POSSIBLE, and make it PROBABLE. Or, if nothing else, I'll die trying. Basically, they'd better figure out a way to get a wheeling person up on to the red carpet Oscar platforms with Ryan Seacrest, because I'm a-comin'.
Regan in Elizabeth I (November 2012, photo by Jim Carmody)
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