Just Show Up!

There’s a lot of talk in the arts about talent, strategy, branding, and timing. And yes—those things can matter.

But none of them get to live if you don’t show up. And I’m writing this as someone who has had to relearn that.

This year, I’ve really struggled with my health. Some physical challenges. Some unexpected limits. And with them… bouts of sadness and depression.

Days when getting out the door took more energy than the performance. Days when I was rejected from performing or teaching—and still felt this quiet pull to show up anyway. To sit in the room. To applaud. To learn. To be part of it. Days when I questioned if I still belonged in the rooms I used to walk into so easily.

So when I say “just show up,” I don’t mean it casually. I mean it tenderly.

·       Show up when you’re excited.

·       Show up when you’re nervous.

·       Show up when you don’t get picked.

·       Show up when no one is else is.

·       Show up when it’s hard.

Because showing up is how motion begins. It’s how we remind ourselves we’re still in the story.

Start with showing up for yourself

·       Show up to class even when you feel a little rusty.

·       Show up to rehearsal when you’re tired.

·       Show up to write when you don’t know what the next idea is.

·       Show up even when your body or your heart feel slower than they used to.

·       You don’t show up because you feel ready. You show up because you care about becoming ready.

Every time you walk into a room, open the document, step onto the stage, or start the warm-up, you’re gently telling yourself:

My growth matters enough to be here. I matter enough to be here.

And that is not small. That is love. That is devotion. That is practice.

Continue by showing up for others

·       Show up to your friends’ shows.

·       Show up to jams, readings, workshops, and fringe performances.

·       Show up when someone invites you into something that scares them a little.

Community isn’t built through posts. It’s built through presence. The conversations in the lobby. The notes after class. The quiet “hey, I saw you work last night.” Most collaborations don’t begin with contracts. They begin with someone being in the room.

Sometimes, on the days I didn’t feel strong, being in the room was the thing that carried me.

And the hardest, show up when you weren’t chosen

·       Show up even when your team wasn’t accepted to perform.

·       Show up even when you weren’t accepted to teach.

·       Show up even when the email said, “not this time.”

Rejection has a way of whispering that we should disappear. That we should wait until we feel more impressive. More certain. More worthy.

But rooms don’t remember who stayed home. They remember who kept coming. So, show up anyway. Applaud. Take notes. Introduce yourself. Support the work. Learn the landscape.

Let people feel your warmth, your energy, your generosity, your curiosity.

Being present after a “no” is one of the bravest, kindest professional choices you can make.

Opportunities come from showing up

Not from hiding. Not from perfect timing. Not from waiting to be discovered.

They grow from being seen with care. From being someone people recognize. From being someone who participates.

A conversation becomes a coffee. A coffee becomes a class. A class becomes a show. A show becomes a tour, a festival, a collaboration, a company, a career.

It all begins with showing up.

Not once. But again. And again. And again.

So, if you’re feeling behind, invisible, tired, or unsure—if your body feels different, if your joy feels quieter, if your path feels heavier than it used to—

Please don’t disappear.

Just… show up. 💗