Improv your Life
I rarely buy clothes online. Call me old school but, to me, apparel is a visceral and sensory purchase. There’s only one time I broke my self-imposed rule - when I maniacally sought out a printed T-Shirt on Amazon. After finding and ordering it, I counted down the hours to its scheduled delivery. Thank God for Amazon Prime. Rather, thank Bezos. I opened the package with the giddy excitement of a child anticipating a new toy. I held my beautiful grey T-shirt. With just two bold and brief words on the front:
1998 was the first time I saw the power of “Yes, and”. My wife and I were huge fans of a show called “Whose line is it anyway”. Originally a BBC radio program, it was adapted into a TV show in the UK and soon after, in the US. A group of performers would, under instructions of a moderator and wickedly bizarre audience inputs, freestyle act out scenarios. No one knew what would happen next. No one. Least of all, the performers.
Surely, they had no way of knowing they would be asked to subtitle a Mongolian horror movie (audience suggestion). Two of the performers would have to provide English commentary (subtitles) for the two actors who were to act and speak in Mongolian. Rather, speak in what they thought Mongolian sounded like. Oh, and the two actors are long lost lesbian lovers (audience suggestion) who meet in a suburban shopping mall (another audience suggestion). Did I mention that the two actors happened to be guys?
This, I learned later, was called Improv comedy. As the name suggests, you just improvise as you go along. What else could one do, anyway? Learn Mongolian?
We had endless debates on how the performers on “Whose line is it anyway” managed to be so spontaneous. We always assumed that, like the genre creating wrestling shows that were then prevalent on TV, everything in “Whose line is it anyway” was also scripted. Painstakingly scripted down to every audience member, performer, and of course, the kingpin of them all - the moderator. They were all in on it, we were sure.
We later learned, to our delightful surprise, that we were wrong. Everything was improvised.
On. The. Spot. Everything.
And apparently, it could be done quite easily. Everyone just needed to obey a two-word formula. You probably guessed it:
Yes, &
“Yes, and..." thinking is a rule-of-thumb where a participant unconditionally accepts what another participant has stated ("yes") and then expands on that line of thinking (“and”). Participants are encouraged to agree to any proposition and to foster a sense of cooperation. The disallowed and unappealing alternative is to shut down the suggestion and effectively end the line of communication. Or simply put, “No, but”. It literally goes nowhere.
In 2014, probably as a cheaper-than-a-Ferrari manifestation of a mid-life crisis, I signed up for Improv classes in New York. I was in my early forties, the average student was twenty-five, and the oldest one, Paul, was sixty-five. We had struggling actors, startup entrepreneurs, bankers, lawyers, and grandfathers among us. We loved it. There was the raw energy of the young of heart or of body percolating through the classrooms and on to the street two floors below. During the 15 minute break, we would go downstairs for a quick bite at Mamoun’s on McDougal Street and hope to catch a glimpse of some famous comedian walking into the Comedy Cellar next door.
It was here that I personally witnessed the power of “Yes, And…” and how it could generate pure, unbridled joy. I learned about the importance of trusting your partners. And the importance of making them look great. Improv trained us to ensure we made life easy for our partner. Perhaps with an easy word for them to springboard from or by setting a mundane scene that they can build on creatively in any direction they choose. In effect, Improv teaches you empathy.
Yes, and...at Work and at Home
“Yes, and” paves the way for harmony and collaboration. Of course, within the boundaries of pragmatism. Saying yes, and to every single idea or every time your kids asked for a hundred dollars wouldn’t be too smart. Unfortunately, the default stance of many of us is “No, but”. We don’t even realize this. Being mindful of a “Yes, and” approach instead is a catalyst for better relationships - at work and at home.
Prepare to be unprepared
I over-prepare. Where work is concerned, I usually do. Almost every word I say in a presentation, every joke, every pause when a slide is busy animating - is usually pre-planned. And rehearsed. Twice over, at least. Improv is the exact opposite. It is delightful permission to be thoroughly unprepared. And to empty your mind of biases. Preparedness is strongly discouraged. While initially very scary, with practice, this becomes very liberating. Personally, it didn’t make me prepare less for work but it made me more comfortable with embracing uncertainty. And the thought of being unprepared.
Finally, Improv helps with…
The most important four-letter F word
The 2012 documentary, Happy, takes us on a journey from the swamps of Louisiana to the slums of Kolkata and the Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan in search of what really makes people happy. (Spoiler alert) The film-makers identify three key ingredients for happiness:
Community - the camaraderie of friends and family
Service - of others, and on a consistent basis
Flow - finding it regularly
Flow. A short but elusive word. You’ll know it when you feel it. Whether it is rock climbing or yoga, they recommend that everyone find something they enjoy to experience flow. Flow is when you are in the zone and lost in what you're doing. Sports are great for finding flow. When you have a tennis ball coming at you at a hundred miles per hour, you’d better be “in the moment”!
Improv is exactly the same - without the risk of getting smacked in the face. You have to be present. I certainly had to when my classmate, Paul, and I were picked for a set at our final performance after two months of classes. We were to be camp counselors at clown camp (audience suggestion) alternatively giving the rules of engagement (audience selection) to imaginary attendees. Oh, and our sadistic instructor added that the first instruction from Paul had to start with the letter “A”. The next one from me with “B”. Paul again with “C”, and so on...
Eight weeks prior, we’d probably have frozen like deer in a car’s headlights. But we had ‘improvd’. So, instead, we simply smiled at each other. Nodded our heads like two clowns.
Yes, and we went with the flow...
All aboard, all aboard.
Bozo, the world’s most famous clown is our patron saint.
Children, behave, and read your rule-books.
