We Need to Sit in the Spaceship Again

A simple thirty-day challenge to refill your tank

When I was six or seven years old, I had a universe inside my closet.

I shared a bedroom with my older brother, but the closet was mine. In it sat a big red wooden toy box filled with my most important treasures…favorite games and toys, random feathers I had found on the sidewalk, oddly shaped rocks, Mallo Cup Play Money cards, and other things no one else cared about but me.

One day, I decided that the closet was not just a closet. It was a spaceship to another planet. I spent the morning transforming it. I recorded sound effects and theme music on my tape recorder. I draped cellophane over the light bulb so the glow felt strange and otherworldly. And yes, I am sure my friend Kristi would not approve of my lack of safety protocol on my lighting choice.

Once the lighting and atmosphere were set, I arranged my objects to cast mysterious shadows.

And when it was ready, I asked my mother to come inside. She sat on the toy box next to me, and for what felt like an hour, we traveled together to another world. She never broke character. She didn’t rush me. She didn’t just peek in and say “Nice job.” She went with me.

The details may have softened in my memory over the years. What I do remember clearly is how I felt, excited from the moment I woke up, eager to get started, and completely immersed in that world. It was not even about my mother’s reaction or having an “audience.” It was about the rare joy of being fully in it. The good kind of exhaustion that comes from giving yourself over to something completely. And when it was done, it was done. But I was better for having done it.

Rekindling what we love

That memory came back to me recently when I saw a group of teachers in my state put on a show together. They stepped back into the roles that first got them excited about the arts. They embraced the experience, shared something special with their community and their students, and most importantly, rekindled something in themselves. Read more about their summer experience: https://www.candgnews.com/news/educators-take-the-stage-8885.

I do not want to lose the passion I had for acting just because I am no longer in my 20s, 30s, or 50s. And I do not believe any of us in the performing arts should let go of that part of ourselves that still wants to live the dream.

I want to invite you to say yes to being a participant again at least once.

The gift of entering someone else’s world

In the performing arts, we know how to create worlds. Directors build productions. Choreographers shape movement. Conductors bring music to life. We spend hours refining every detail until the world feels complete.

Whether you direct shows, run a box office, teach choir, coach a dance team, or sit on a board, you did not start in this work because of reports and meetings. You started because you loved being part of the story. In our roles, we can forget what it feels like to enter someone else’s imagined space without trying to control it. We often become the visionaries and the facilitators. And while that is necessary, we can lose touch with the simple joy of sitting inside a dream someone else has built and going along for the ride.

We forget

If you are like me, you might tell yourself you cannot do that anymore. Or you might convince yourself that you are better at what you do now, so you should stick to that. Was I a better singer back then? Yes. Did I move better? Absolutely. But my instincts are sharper now. My emotional maturity is deeper. My life has prepared me better to do what I did instinctively when I was seven.

Would it be a challenge? Absolutely. I can remember lines from As You Like It in 1982, but I cannot remember the punch line to a joke I heard five minutes ago. And let’s be honest, getting back into rehearsal shape might require an intermission halfway through warm-ups and a Diet Pepsi chaser. But I believe the payoff now might be even greater than it was then.

I know time feels tight. Budgets are thin, meetings run long, and some days you feel more tired than inspired. That is exactly why saying yes to one small moment in the next thirty days matters so much.

It is not enough to imagine the world. Sometimes we have to step inside it again.

Here are a few ways to practice being a participant again

• Join in without leading – Take a class, workshop, or rehearsal where you are not in charge.
• Say yes to a cameo – If you are directing, take a small role and experience the process from the other side.
• Make something small and just for fun – Create a short scene, a duet, a dance phrase, or a tiny concert in your living room with no audience required.
• Let students guide you – Spend one rehearsal letting them run a warm-up, block a scene, or choose the interpretation of a section.
• Find a peer project – Collaborate with friends where no one is the boss.
• Join a community choir or chorale – Sing for the joy of blending your voice with others.
• Play in a community band or orchestra – Sit in for a concert and feel the thrill of live music again.
• Take a dance class – Whether it is ballet, tap, or hip hop, reconnect with movement.
• Audition for a community theatre show – Even a walk-on or ensemble role can reignite your spark.
• Volunteer for a staged reading – Step into a role with no sets, costumes, or pressure, just the words and the moment.

My dear friend Mary, who is in the summer teacher show I referenced earlier, just texted. “We open tonight! I can’t wait!!!!! I love being mean!!!! This has been so FUN!!!” Her multiple exclamation points say it all…she is back in her spaceship. 

Your turn

Take the challenge. 

What is one thing you’ll say yes to? Add a comment below to tell us about it, or share a picture on social!

So here is my challenge to you as we prepare to start this new year, this season, this next adventure. Find one way to step back into what first brought you the passion for this work.

For the next thirty days, try one thing.

Say yes to being a participant again.

Say yes to something that feels a little risky. Take the class. Audition for the role. Dust off the instrument. Dance again. Sing again. Perform again. And if you pull a muscle in the process, just spin it into a story of hurting yourself while saving a puppy while simultaneously running a marathon to benefit the arts. I always opt for the better story.

When we reconnect with the spark that brought us here, we bring more to our ensembles, casts, classrooms, and audiences. Our passion fuels theirs. Leaders who step back into the story tend to stay longer, program braver seasons, and build stronger communities.

We built Ludus so that the ticketing side feels lighter, allowing you to spend less time wrestling with systems and more time in the room, on the stage, or in the pit.

Finale

The arts thrive when more of us step into the story, not just behind the scenes. That is how we keep building shared experiences that matter. Bringing people together through shared experiences is what keeps our work alive.

It is not enough to imagine the world. Sometimes we have to step inside it again.

Here is to saying yes to the spaceship, one more time.