Life, Values & Legacy: Our Chat with Josh Galitsky of Santa Monica

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Josh Galitsky. Check out our conversation below.

Josh, so good to connect and we’re excited to share your story and insights with our audience. There’s a ton to learn from your story, but let’s start with a warm up before we get into the heart of the interview. Are you walking a path—or wandering?
If I’m being honest — both. I am treading along a winding road that has no real beginning and no true end. Sometimes the course is rugged, sometimes smooth as glass, but much of the time I am drifting, scurrying, ambling, and sprinting, in one breath stopping to smell the violets and jasmine, in other moments, roaming off-road, skittering in search of signposts. There are many, many divides on this strange and swirling stretch, countless choices and decisions to be made, endless potholes, snags, barriers and crosswinds. But there is time too for frolicking and many triumphs worth skipping to.

Sometimes the trail we think we want becomes the route we didn’t know we needed. At times, we think we are headed the wrong way only to discover that not going back can also mean freedom. Now and then, all tracks feel scary, all passages seem halted. But often, the foreign becomes familiar and the known becomes yesterday.

But all of it is an odd journey, a terrifying voyage, an amazing adventure. And all of it, ALL OF IT, is mine. The childlike, poetic, frightened, nearsighted Nomad on his way to some imaginative Oz while trying to avoid the liars and vipers and snares — oh why? Why not?

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Sure — I’m Josh. I’m a teaching artist, a facilitator of creative transformation, and at heart, a storyteller. I’ve been working for over 25 years in theaters, camps, classrooms, museums, and community spaces — all kinds of places where people come together to express themselves, or at least want to. And what I’ve noticed again and again is that whether someone is a trained actor or someone who’s never set foot on a stage, what we’re all longing for is the same thing: a place where we can feel safe enough to be honest, brave enough to be seen, and supported enough to create without fear.

That’s what led to The Sacred Actor.

It’s not a traditional acting class, and it’s not therapy. It lives in that space in between — where imagination, self-expression, and human vulnerability overlap. We explore through embodied storytelling, improvisation, breathwork, dreamwork, shadow play, ritual, journaling, music, movement, soulful collaboration, and shared reflection — each one offering a different doorway back to the part of ourselves that is still alive, curious, inspired, and capable of profound feeling. It’s for anyone who wants to discover who they are when the masks fall away — not just performers.

What makes The Sacred Actor unique is the tone and the environment. It’s compassionate, transparent, playful, and welcoming. There’s no judgment, no ego, no pressure to “perform” or impress. It’s a place where adults can actually daydream, invent, experiment, and romp again — a safe playground, a kind of summer camp for grown-ups, a sanctuary from the grind and the constant performance of daily life.

Right now, I’m developing the next phase — immersive workshops, intimate social gatherings, and a multimedia, story-based, process-oriented experience that introduces people to the journey in a way that feels meaningful, surprising, and personal. It’s a space where artists — and anyone longing to truly feel again — can do their most dynamic, honest, and soul-connected work.

At the end of the day, I’m just trying to help people remember that there is still magic in being human. And if you feel that pull, that spark, that quiet yes — you’re welcome to step into it too.

I invite you to come to The Sacred Actor — and “Set Yourself Free.”

Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
Who was I before the world told me who I had to be?

I was a funny, creative, compassionate kid — the kind who collected people the way some kids collected baseball cards. Outcasts. They all were drawn to me. I was also someone who loved to make people laugh. I was silly, expressive, open. I cared deeply without wondering whether I should. I didn’t know yet how to hide.

And then, like many of us, life got louder. The world started teaching me who I was supposed to be — tougher, quieter, less sensitive, more practical, more contained. And bit by bit, that fearless, joyful kid started to retreat. Not disappear — just wait, and perhaps bide his time.

Life has a way of circling back.

In college, I found theater. Not just performance, but a way of being. I acted, wrote, directed, and for the first time in years, I felt like I was breathing again. At summer camp, working with kids — I recognized myself in their wildness, their goofiness, their honesty. In graduate school, I discovered devised theater, where creation comes from the inside-out. And that cracked something open. It reminded me that art isn’t about impressing — it’s about returning to what’s real.

Los Angeles came later — and with it, many years of unlearning, peeling back, listening inward. Through teaching, writing, creativity, meditation, and a spiritual path, I’ve been walking myself back to that original self — the one who loved openly, created freely, and trusted joy.

The child was never lost. He was just waiting for the world to quiet down. An then he came out swinging.

Today, my work — my art, my teaching, The Sacred Actor — is simply this: To live from that childlike wonder, to protect it, nurture it, and invite others to remember their own.

If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
You were right all along. You were right to love fully, care deeply, be silly, imaginative, and curious. You were right to take in the ones who didn’t fit. You were right to laugh loud, cry hard, and feel everything.
Nothing about you was “too much.” It was just right.

So never dim your light to make others comfortable. Keep going. Keep playing. Keep loving. If you stay true to yourself, your tribe will find you.

Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. Where are smart people getting it totally wrong today?
I think a lot of smart people are confusing happiness with joy. Happiness is something we chase — it’s based on achievement, circumstance, external validation, financial success, power. It’s fragile. It comes and goes. It depends on the world cooperating with our plans. And it keeps us constantly reaching for the next thing and more, more, more.

Joy is different. It doesn’t require perfection, outside approval, or applause. Joy is being present, staying connected, feeling alive, and giving the best you can with the unique gifts you’ve been given. It is rooted in generosity and service to others.

When we’re playing, laughing, creating, staying real, being truthful, and sharing our genuine selves with others — this is joy. Helping others achieve their dreams is joy. Using our skills, talents, and love to uplift others is joy.

Happiness is what we are taught to want.
Joy is what we are born with.

Happiness is the attempt to acquire, add on, and prove.
Joy is about stripping away the false layers and returning to what has always been there.

Happiness is fleeting.
Joy is enduring, true, and eternal — the part of us untouched by the noise of the world or the fear that follows it.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. What will you regret not doing? 
There’s this quote I’ve always loved by Albert Camus:

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.”

The thing I would regret most is not letting that “invincible summer” in me actually reach people. I don’t mean success or recognition — I mean impact, connection, contribution. There were times in my life when I had abundance, and the real ache wasn’t losing it. The sorrow was realizing I could have poured more of it into others — into creativity, into shared belonging, into helping people rise.

The light I’ve dimmed at times is the part of me that knows I can genuinely ignite others — help them feel seen, alive, inspired, hopeful again. I know I can light up a room, a workshop, a collaboration, sometimes even a whole community. But there have been seasons where fear, doubt, and the weight of the world convinced me to stay smaller than I know I am.

And that’s what I regret — the times I let fear win. The times I hesitated when I could have given. The times I held back when I could have shined with others. Because the light was never meant to stay inside. It’s meant to be shared.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.thesacredactor.com

Image Credits
Josh Galitsky