I wrote my first novel, 7 years ago, for my partner at the time. I didn't care if anyone else even knew it existed. I just wanted her to read it, and to like it. I didn't need to be a writer or an 'artist'. I didn't need 10 or 100 Facebook likes (I didn't even have a phone back then - no joke). I did it for her, and her alone; and knowing that she'd read it was all the fuel I needed to complete it.

So... what do I mean by 'an audience of 1'? Exactly this. The attention of one singular other, and the unbelievable spark that having this 'audience' can manifest.

Productively, creatively, even 'authentically' speaking, our words, behaviours and choices have to go somewhere! Energy, after all (any kind of energy at all), cannot be destroyed or 'lost', but only transferred into some other kind. Thermal energy (as seen in water) becomes intensely moving waves and bubbles, and then steam when it reaches boiling temperature. An electrical current can become light, the physical movement of a car, the transmission of a radio or internet signal, for instance. Our ideas and thoughts, equally, become songs, poems, paintings, performances, a new business or recipe. Whatever the energetic change, it needs a space, an outlet, an audience through which to become the next version of itself.

Would Usain Bolt's 100m world record have been achieved alone on a track, in the middle of the night, with no one to race against or see it at all? Absolutely not.

Would JK Rowling have written all 7 Harry Potter books if not a single sole had read the first one? Of course not.

We're mortal beings, acutely aware of our finite time here on Planet Earth. We simply don't have the stamina (or stupidity) to waste our years in empty rooms all by ourselves. Not that we need much, and 'too much' may be no better than the empty room in fact...

The social media apps, the group chats, the packed stadiums for those (un?)lucky some - it's not exactly 'human', in the primitive sense of the word at least. It's manageable for the careful few, and maybe even a tad unavoidable these days, but these realms are certainly NOT where our 'audiences of 1' will be found. Quite the opposite.

Our audiences of 1 are found in the most obvious of places, in fact. That's to say that, if we look at traditional 'models' of how exchange, education, trade, cooperation etc have typically taken place over the centuries then we see that fewer higher quality, face to face interactions almost ALWAYS beat the alternative, larger, more-diluted experience. Moreover, these generally take the form of teachers, parents, grandparents, partners and neighbours; individuals we're bounded to by circumstance, space, genetics, shared beliefs etc.

All of these 'audiences of 1' have changed drastically in today's world, especially the 'neighbour' and the 'teacher' (which we'll get to shortly). That being said, they are so much a part of our social-emotional DNA that (fortunately!) we've still got a lot to work with and gain from.

The greatest suffering of all may be loneliness; even though we might hide it under the veil of depression, various ‘madness’es or even ‘gifts’ (the ability to be alone has gained a highly esteemed status after all). Enlightenment is the story that many rather lonely or detached humans may well be telling themselves (about themselves).

The artist ‘suffers’ for his or her art; and at what cost? The best, or at least the smartest, artists instead have audiences of 1. Perhaps several, but certainly not TOO many.

Yes they can be alone for extended periods of time, they know how to survive and navigate the ‘abyss’, but they don’t glorify it. They recognise its costs and benefits, and successfully ‘escape’ when needed. The muse is there, admittedly, and yet she exists in many other places also, including in relationship to others.

Let’s look at the ‘neighbour’ now for a moment; that which perhaps most distinguishes modern (Western) societies with that of the past. Just in my lifetime (a mere 34 years) I’ve seen this entity drastically change. Today’s neighbour is, put simply, a stranger in most cases. At it’s worst they’re even a nuisance - someone I need to ask permission from before my next house party, or apologise to if the music happens to be too loud.

I’ve known very few of my neighbours throughout the last 5-10 years; when I was a child, I knew almost every person on my street - they’re names, what they did for work, their children, how they lived their lives etc (around 30-40 houses in a semi-rural part of a small town, 1 hour north of London).

Now, when I visit that area, the green empty spaces are just more buildings, the public school is locked behind high gates, the doors are closed and the children are nowhere to be seen.

Enough about me. Besides, the world is always changing. That being said, our audiences of 1 must change with it.

Now on to the ‘Teacher’…

If the neighbour and its obvious benefits to daily exchange, support and care, has begun to vanish, then the teacher - in its most prized form - has disappeared altogether.

I’m a sucker for ancient cultures, especially those from the East, and the various hierarchies and lineages that existed there for centuries. The stoic nature of practice, studentship and the ‘passing on’ of knowledge has always inspired me greatly. These lineages, such as those of the Samurai, various Martial Arts an other war-based disciplines have, at times, extreme demands and expectations on their students. Habits around fasting, physical training, celibacy, breath retention and maternal sacrifice reoccur frequently across such ‘schools’, and have become life philosophies that continue to this day in more diluted form: after-work 60-minute kickboxing classes, Sunday morning yoga, free weekly meditation, Religious prayer and annual fasts etc.

These short rituals are what remain for the 99% of humans, otherwise running the so-called ‘rat race’ of earning money, paying bills and saving up for the next beach get-away. Not to shun the rituals - they’re hugely beneficial and offer a much-needed buffer to the other modern spaces we typically occupy.

The problem is however: for a teacher to truly be an audience of 1, the student must have their ‘skin in the game’. If not then their teacher is not really a teacher, and they are not really a student.

So what does Skin In The Game actually mean? It means you are invested (truly invested!) in the process. In this case, the teacher and their taught practices. Skin In The Game is relative to the sacrifice, investment, consequences etc of the exchange. A leader of men, who marches frontline into battle, has extreme skin in the game. A civil engineer who sleeps under the bridge that he/she has built also has real skin in the game. The student who signs up for a 5-year, dedicated movement study, paying for such services from his/her own pocket has significant skin in the game too.

As Taleb (author of Skin In The Game) nicely puts it: ‘Love without sacrifice is thievery’.

Love, in the real world (as appose to in fairy tales) comes with a cost, a sacrifice, and various risks that the non-student, the non-practitioner, will have a hard time understanding. It’s typically much less about being ‘good’, and much more about doing the work no matter what; much less about joy or inspiration and much more about discipline, humility and attention.

But what would bring someone to such efforts? What gets the best athletes, artists and practitioners out of bed in the morning? Skin In The Game…

It’s no longer a choice… you’ve already invested… now you just need to show up and go through the motions. Sure, on the good days you might enjoy it, find new and wonderful discoveries about yourself, even reach that much-talked-about ‘flow’ state; everything becoming ONE in pure connection with the moment. But these are not the days that foster excellence, wisdom, character. These are not even the days that ‘pay the bills’, as any working class hero will know.

And what’s the best type of Skin In The Game? That which hits right to the heart and endures a journey both long and learned? Having an Audience of 1…

To see your teacher, face to face, to be seen fully by their wide-eyed attention and for them to witness the transformation of yourself…

Soon the ‘self’ ends. It’s not about you, your emotions, needs, desires anymore. The Self (or the I) is not the highest self after all; it’s just the vessel. And it’s the audience of 1, with our skin firmly invested in the game, that best allows us to transcend it.

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