The Art of Living

A Rude Awakening

by Dana Raye Barnaby

This was a tough week for me… I was up many nights - mind racing - uncertainty raging.  No, it’s not because a certain narcissist is threatening World War 3 - nor the climate disaster that is unfolding before our selfish and greedy eyes. No, these restless nights have a far more personal cause…

As some of you may know, I’m struggling with trying to make a living - so deep into a career - that I should really be pondering my retirement to a small Tuscan village - or perhaps a beach-side, thatch-roofed house in Costa Rica. But instead, due to the sudden and unexpected demise of the entertainment industry, I’m now working on a ‘Freedom 95’ plan - in the hopes that I will live long enough to finally enjoy some peace and tranquility.

So, what does an artistic man in his later years do when the industry he’s devoted his life to collapses?

The answer begins with a belief in yourself...

According to the internet, AI is my ultimate savior. Google overflows with promises: “Make $5000 a month self-publishing books you don’t even have to write!” or “Earn $30 an hour prompting AI!” - ironically, jobs that render creatives like me obsolete in a world expanding beyond human talent. None of these options seemed worthy.

The search continues. I tried web-testing games, providing feedback at $0.30 per level - a wage so low it makes the already un-livable American minimum wage seem generous. I self-published a book. Yes, one I actually wrote - but after 106 copies sold, mostly at $2.99 a download (before Amazon’s cut), I quickly learned that publishing doesn’t mean profitability.

Others tell me to sell my knowledge - create online courses that generate passive income, even while you sleep. Oh, what a dream that would be, if only I could sleep…

So, then I turned to my God-given talent: voice-over work for commercials, audiobooks and YouTube narrations. It’s a craft I love, and I actually make some money at it, but even here, AI looms. More and more clients are choosing AI-generated voices over real ones—opting for cost efficiency at the expense of human artistry. This reminds me of Griffin Mill, the Tim Robbins character in The Player:

“I was just thinking what an interesting concept it is to eliminate the writer from the artistic process. If we could just get rid of these actors and directors, maybe we’ve got something here.”

And so, I found myself back where I started - bartending. Thirty years after I supposedly left the industry for better wages and my dream job. It was a great gig until the bar closed its patio due to a major re-construction and I became a 57 year old,  laid-off man, now competing with every other young whippersnapper for minimum wage plus tips. Not a very prosperous future indeed…

I did, however, have a recent moment of inspiration - likely the same for anyone who loves movies. Oscar weekend. That one night a year when we collectively celebrate the art of cinema - its history, its magic, and the way it shapes our lives.

I love the pomp and circumstance, the paparazzi-lined red carpet, the glorious designer gowns, and of course, a room filled with my favorite celebrities. And while it was thrilling to see a low-budget indie film like Anora win the ultimate prize - offering indie filmmakers like myself the fleeting hope that we, too, can write, direct, and edit an Oscar-winning film - the evening wasn’t without its shadows.

Because amid all that glitz and celebration, there was an elephant in the room, one that no one wanted to acknowledge.

The Collapse of the Film Industry

Thousands of film veterans - cinematographers, editors, writers, grips, costume designers, and crew - have lost their jobs, their homes, and in some cases, their lives. A once-thriving business that minted billionaires out of a select few - many of whom sat comfortably inside that very theater, has left the rest of us scrambling for scraps.

Meanwhile, my savings dwindle, and the very real risk of selling everything I own looms closer. The future I once imagined for myself - built on years of hard work and passion, now feels like a mirage fading in the distance.

So, what now? Do I resign myself to “adulting”, accepting that life is just a never-ending cycle of work, bills, and survival?

Is this really what God intended when she made us individuals, with our own unique interests, talents, and desires?

I keep coming back to Lady Gaga’s words: “Born this Way.”

We all were. And trying to fight what you were born to do - what’s buried in your very DNA, will either lead to utter failure or, worse, a life not worth living.

But through all this self-exploration, I have finally found the light, you know the one, at the end of the proverbial tunnel. That moment of realization when you finally see your purpose laid out in front of you.

I am a Writer

Perhaps still in the infancy of mastery. Perhaps still fumbling my way through. But nonetheless, this is my calling.

And how do I know it’s not just another distraction? Because it makes me happy and I can lose myself for hours in a single thought, a turn of phrase, a character’s voice.

A friend - who knows me very well, recently asked me how I was surviving the darkest, most depressing winter months - not my favorite time of year.

Even as I answered, I surprised myself. I hadn’t noticed the dark.

For the first time in 30 years on the rain-soaked Wet Coast, the gloom never even touched me.

I have been many things: lifeguard, middle linebacker, bartender, musician, photographer, cameraman, director. I’ve managed to do them all fairly well - lucky perhaps to have been gifted with a diverse skill set. But I always felt like something was unfinished. Like there was one last calling I had yet to answer.

Follow Your Passion

And now, I know.

If you live long enough and follow your passion - you too will discover what you were meant to be.

I believe our hearts speak to us every day. They tell us how to live fully, how to chase happiness and how to stay true to ourselves.

But as we grow older, we start ignoring that voice - drowning it out under the weight of financial pressures, responsibilities, expectations.

Over time, that voice weakens. It whispers, then murmurs, then fades… until one day, it stops speaking altogether.

Then, with one last burst of strength, your heart makes its final plea:

HEAR ME NOW OR LOSE ME FOREVER.

Most people ignore it.

But I won’t.

I am listening.

And this essay proves that…

Thank you for taking the time to join me on this journey of reflection and storytelling. If these words have resonated, you might enjoy my second series of essays called, The Vanishing Gentleman.

Subscribe today to continue our conversation (that's all - nothing more). Together, we can explore the timeless art of living thoughtfully and graciously. Your support means the world to me.

Home