Yes, And More Moments of Joy

I’ve recently discovered that my natural state is, well… improvisational. I love to be impromptu and silly, imaginative and without much planning. In general, this level of creative spontaneity (sprinkled with bouts of sarcasm) is my core essence. In Dungeons and Dragons parlance, my character would be considered chaotic neutral, unpredictable, and independent, someone who values personal freedom above all else, acting according to their whims without regard for rules, laws, or even social expectations—but without intentionally being good or evil.

Over the last year or so, I have had the opportunity to attend improv at Improv City in Tustin, CA. (ImprovCityOnline.com) and I have said it more than once, “I wish I had found the improv community sooner.” After 50+ years of classrooms, boardrooms, barrooms, meeting halls, and coffee shops, I have found a place that rewards my “creativity” and “spontaneity” with laughter and applause versus the usual harrumphs, shrugs, and jeers that my behavior elicits in typical everyday situations.

“Somebody stop me!”

When I am “on a roll” in my daily life and feeling sprightly, I would love it if there were an audience of fellow improvisers sitting on the sidelines ready to laugh, applaud, and when I am done, give me a few fist bumps, and comment on the wild shit that just fell out of my mouth. If only all areas of my life were as rewarding and supportive as improv and the community that inhabits it. As I have become familiar with improv and have begun to learn the ins and outs of “Yes and(ing)”, building scenes, the spoken and unspoken rules, I have become more and more comfortable with the fear of stepping on stage (see Drop-In Improv post). Still, more than anything, in improv, much like in my life, I have become a seeker of joyful, sublime moments. No matter how brief or fleeting they might be.

“Comfort is the enemy of progress.”

After attending Drop-In classes on Monday nights over the last year, I signed up for a two-month improv class. Last night, it wrapped up as we had our final showcase, where friends and family were invited to attend the show and see the culmination of our class’s improv efforts. It was amazingly satisfying to see our efforts come together for a successful show (with a smattering of a few joyful moments). Believe me! I had a lot of fun, but I had a lot of hesitation about my abilities at the start of the show. But soon, the fear subsided, and my playful self felt safe enough to come out and play. As I sat on the sideline chairs, I looked out into the audience during the show, I examined every face and the attention they gave the performers, the spontaneous moments of surprise and laughter on their faces as each improviser reached for an imaginary steering wheel, or a point of view of a character’s folly was a pleasure to see.

Leaving the venue last night, I couldn’t wait to sign up for the next class and do it all over again. Seeing my progress and the progress of my classmates was impressive. After meeting each Sunday and watching the effort and growth in each person, it was something I could not imagine when I first started the class. Nothing will replace witnessing the process and the final product firsthand, and the fact that, with everything, practice is always an essential part of play. Without it, you’re just making unintentional decisions that result in sporadic moments of mediocre enjoyment that lack real, magical moments of joy.

You see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms...

I signed up for the next set of classes beginning next month, and I look forward to doing it all again. Hopefully, over the course of class, if I am lucky, I will see fewer divorces, fewer transactions in coffee shops and grocery stores, trainees being trained for a new job they just started, teachers with unruly classrooms, haphazard astronauts lost in space, roommates with clashing habits, and doctors diagnosing their patients with the most terrible case of Jazz Hands Syndrome you have ever seen!