I listened to a podcast with actor James Corden.  For a number of years, he hosted The Late, Late, Show and met just about everybody in the entertainment industry.  So it was a fun interview with lots of name-dropping and juicy bits. I found this one observation particularly interesting.  He said:  “There are two kinds of successful actors — aliens and human beings.”  



“Human beings” are the performers who are so relatable that their work doesn’t look like acting at all.  “Aliens” are those whose gifts seem phenomenal, out-of-this world; they are blessed with a virtuosity that appears untouchable.

Neither type is better than the other, he says, just different.  Meryl Streep, for example, is an “alien.” Tom Hanks is a “human.”  When Meryl is working her magic, audiences (and other actors) are awestruck, “How on earth does she do that?!”  Tom Hanks, on the other hand, brings a naturalism to his roles, in which other people can readily see themselves, “Wow, he’s just like me.”  

Aliens and humans. Exceptional and ordinary. It got me thinking about how this same sort of dichotomy can show up in other crafts and professions — politicians, musicians, educators, scientists, writers — in any human undertaking.  Some poets phrase things so exquisitely that their pieces don’t even sound like mere words anymore.  Other writers bring depth and truth with simplicity and accessibility, even bluntness.  Both can be beautiful.

Each one of us, too, can find ourselves along this spectrum when we’re doing our things, working our talents, exercising our gifts and passions.  Sometimes we’re in our singular groove to such a degree that we can appear almost superhuman; we might even feel it, occasionally.  Other times, most times, ordinarily, we are simply, profoundly human. 

The former inspires, the latter resonates.

I like this distinction.  It makes me think about why I like what I like about others, why I respond to what I respond to. With admiration or with relatedness. Because they’re immediate and accessible or because they stretch me towards something aspirational.

I think it also conveys something of the nature and essence of spirituality — the unique and the universal. The many that we are and the one that we are.

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I define “spirituality” just about as broadly as I can conceive of it.   All the infinite ideas and practices and pathways that we can take from personal self-expression to collaborative creativity and back again.  Spirituality can include religion or not, theology or not. For me, it definitely encompasses science, myth, magic, philosophy, art, social responsibility, and community. Others have different ideas. Great. Whatever lights you up.

It does seem to me that whatever one’s approach to spirituality, it often presents something akin to James Corden’s alien/human dichotomy. 

We might think of it as:  Divine/human • Sacred/profane • Angelic/beastly • Spirit/flesh • Ideal/actual • Self/ego • Mind/body • Cause/effect • Infinite/limited • Unconditional/conditional • Eternal/temporary. 

My first inclination, always, is to try to resolve such either/ors with an expansive both/and.  I want to open up to a bigger sense of reality that can include both, embracing the paradox.  Yet, also, I’m sorta grabbed by this distinction:  Exceptional/ordinary.  I think maybe it’s worthwhile spending some time with the heads and tails of it.  

Because it kind of feels like the heart of everything, of spirituality. I mean, is Spirit/spirit something transcendent, rarefied and untouchable, rising above it all in an Edenic state of harmony and peace? Or is it the nitty gritty work of living together on the planet, after the fall, out of the Garden?

Yes, I think. Yes, both/and. But maybe not resolved. Maybe both sides of the coin remain in dynamic tension, urging us onward.

• HEADS = When we’re encouraged and soaring with vision and hope, allowing the possibility of our hearts’ desires, daring to believe in progress and enlightenment. Perhaps we experience the glimmer of sublime communion with an Infinite Goodness — supernal bliss, pure consciousness, and our ultimate triumph over lack and limitation and even death…


• TAILS = Also, real life.  Though there’s plenty to love about it, we’re all also dealing with a whole mess of stuff.  While the idyll definitely calls, the raw materials we have to work with are these actual experience of ourselves and others and the world, right now. 

So how might we let our noble vision inform and empower us, rather than occur like an unattainable standard of perfection to which we’re constantly failing to measure-up?
 

For me, the main point of life is to be fully in it, with our warts and doubts and struggles and all.   It’s not so much about perpetually striving to get the hell out of it into some heavenly other, but rather about mindfully bringing whatever bit of heaven we can imagine into our experience right here and now.

Thich Nhat Hanh said, “The miracle is not to walk on water.  The miracle is to walk on the green earth, dwelling deeply in the present moment and feeling truly alive.”

That’s what I’m gnawing on this week. How exceptionally ordinary and ordinarily exceptional each of us is. And how celebrating the paradox that we are can make a tremendous difference in our own lives and for the world. I can’t wait to be with you on Sunday, August 10, at 10:00am, at q-Staff Theatre. With the divine Patty Stephens. XO, Drew

©2025 Drew Groves