I don’t remember the bookshop, but I do remember the churn of my emotions as my eyes met the image on the postcard.
A black-and-white photograph captured a man in a flapping raincoat suspended mid-air as he attempted to jump across a large puddle.
The vintage cars on the wet streets told me this shot was from many decades past. Well before I entered the world. Well before I found myself in my current predicament.
At that time, my wallet was so light it felt like it floated out of my pocket, but I found a one-dollar note, a crumpled bit of currency that had no idea that, in a few months, it would be rendered obsolete by a shiny coin.
It was 1984, and I was 25 years old.
I Blu-Tacked the postcard above the secondhand desk in my bedroom, where I wrote my comedy material. The desk had a broken leg propped up by three bricks and a paperback copy of Shogun.
J. A. Hampton’s image resonated. The hero of the shot, face obscured by his outstretched arm, was willing his legs to make it to dry land but wet trouser cuffs awaited him.
He would fall short just as I felt I had after crossing the big puddle called the Bass Strait.
I departed Hobart to seek fame and fortune. But after two years in the big smoke I was now much more motivated by another F Word, food.
My standard sustenance consisted of nutrition-free pastry covered things off a heat tray at a milk bar and the occasional roast buffet dinner that we fledgling comics received as a perk when we performed at the Sydney Comedy Store.
Coming from an acting background I had started off my stand up career performing as characters, a priest telling bad jokes in ecclesiastical language, and a power crazed army major wearing khaki shorts.
This approach eventually got me some work but I always had to go on early at a venue before the crowd got so drunk they lost their love of theatre. This meant I could never climb the comedy ladder to become a headliner.
I ditched the character comedy and sought safety in numbers. I created a double act with a friend and also joined forces with some fellow funny types to form a four-man comedy troupe.
These partnerships proved untenable as promoters much preferred to pay fees and travel expenses for just one person if they had a choice. And they had a choice.
I knew now that the only option I had if I wanted to succeed as a comic was to go solo, as the real me. But I also knew if I took that leap, a painful crash landing awaited me. Sydney comedy crowds in the mid-eighties were, how can I put this, brutally honest.
And then something happened.
On a humid Sydney afternoon, a friend visited and brought with him a friend of his. We drank tea bag tea and chatted in my bedroom.
At one point, the friend of a friend got up and checked out the postcard on the wall. I wish I knew this guy’s name, I can’t even conjure his face. But what he said next changed the direction of my life.
“Wow, he’s just going to make it.”
I got off my chair and stared at my puddle jumping man with new eyes. My perspective on this shot, which I had looked at hundreds of times, began to shift.
The mathematics of Hampton’s image recalibrated. That front leg might just have enough height and speed to carry our man beyond the hazard to where he wanted to be. Yes, it was possible.
The important thing was this guy had the courage to find out.
That evening I borrowed my flatmate’s cassette of Van Halen’s 1984. I only wanted to hear one song. When David Lee Roth told me to “Go ahead and jump!”, I did, making the floor boards beneath me groan with the impact.
I jumped, I danced, I kicked the air, I rewound the tape, I did it all again.
Out of breath, T-shirt sweat-drenched, I sat down and wrote material for my new stand up act.
A few weeks later, I would take the leap and deliver this material on stage with new energy, confidence, and an edge that lit up audiences and caught the attention of TV producers.
By the time I held my first sparkling one-dollar coin in my hand, I was a comedian with freshly minted momentum, standing my ground and ready to rock.
*****
When have you taken a leap of faith? Are you contemplating another? I’d love to hear about it. Feel free to leave me a comment.
I believe humanity as a whole is facing a leap-of-faith moment. It’s crunch time.
We will either disintegrate into division, selfishness, and darkness, or elevate ourselves to joy, creativity, and renewed purpose. I’m pouring all my energy and intention into option 2!
I hope you’ll be there with me.
Happy Elevation, Anthony
If you find my content lifts your day a little, you might enjoy subscribing - free or paid - to my Substack. Or maybe Buy Me A Coffee. I love the bean (see pic!)
Your contributions are very appreciated and help fuel my mission to elevate lives. Thanks!
Thanks very much to my recent coffee contributors - Dianne, Trace, Dave, and Anna!
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.