Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes; and adversity is not without comforts and hopes.

Francis Bacon

One of the great mentors of my life, Mala Powers, made me acutely aware of the fact that with every dream fulfilled, there is a maintenance price. There are a whole set of activities that arise, tasks to meet that are important to factor into your consciousness. Without awareness of this, our dreams can become nightmares.  I see and hear of our great celebrities whose lives are apparent disasters. They seem to have achieved their dreams of employment in the sports, music or acting fields to which they aspired and yet whither inwardly from the loneliness, instability, over adoration, inconceivable wealth, superficiality, and deep confusion of identity. The fame seems so unreal. It feels so shallow, so trite that a human being is paid so much to play-characters, music, with balls, whatever it is. Why should you who do this be entitled to earn so much attention, have so much influence, be so famous, make so much money doing it?

You go out and you play hard, you play your heart out in front of the crowds (and the cameras if your image is projected on to anything from a Jumbo-tron to Youtube). You have a thrilling experience of pouring out your talent, using every skill you have developed, carefully crafting a thrilling adventure for your witnesses and  then you celebrate your victory as they cheer wildly. A few hours later you sit in an empty room, with no one to even know you exist. Or you lie next to a strange body, who has had sex with their idea of you, while you have no idea of who they are beyond their body. That cigarette, that beer, that line of cocaine all look like mighty fine choices from the menu of desperate emptiness.

I wish so much that those who suffer this pain could be craddled in the knowingness of their importance.

And I wish so much that they knew the depth of need the world has for them long before their careers rocketed to such other worldly levels.  And wouldn’t the world be a transformative place if our storytellers believed their task was meeting the deepest needs of human connection, culture, sense of identity, and unity of spirit?

We want our superstars. We want to be a superstar. We fear the prosperity of our stardom and we resent the prosperity of others. We take deep comfort in our victimhood and we victimize those who seem to be in their prosperity.  Who is trending now?  What are you doing to feed the frenzy on the celebrities? And how does this daily barrage of attack on the terribly disappointing privileged few who thumbs their noses to the court, to the press, to the public, improve the lives and experience of humanity?   Right….. whose fault is it?

The congregation who calls for a false God or the humans who sacrifice their ordinary lives to share their God-Given talents? How can today’s public ignore their role in turning their role models into fearful, distasteful icons?  How can today’s rising stars learn to lead, inspire and uplift, without sacrificing their ordinary selves, their balanced selves without diffusing their extraordinary expression of gifts?

I believe that the answer to this would have saved the lives of some of our lost celebrities, and could bring Madonna an Oscar. And I so grateful for Michael Chekhov’s understanding of Love and the Creative Spirit in the artist. Who knows? Maybe Lindsey too….