Improv Wisdom
I know that as I begin a sermon on the value of improvisation - many of you might be expecting that I would try a bit of improvisation this morning - and I will let you in on a secret of mine. All throughout seminary - my friends and I played a game that I was taught during my internship. In the game, anyone could throw out a topic - any topic - at any time - and the recipient would be required to launch into a five minute sermon. There were many skilled orators among us - and I remember a particularly moving homily on the subject of peanut butter - but the truth of the matter was and is - that improvising an entire sermon has never been a skill of mine. The truth of the matter is that for me - improvisation has been a skill I've learned to lean into in my life - it is something I have come to trust in my teaching - in my relationships - in my interactions with others. When I walk into a hospital room or go to meet a family who has recently lost a loved one - I improvise. I don't go in with a set plan - I just show up. I trust in those moments that by paying attention and following my gut I will know what to do and say. In improvising like this in my life, I've come to learn a lot about myself - my skills and my weaknesses - and I know that it is in everyone's best interest if I share with you what I do know - how to improvise in life - not what I don't know - which is how to improvise an entire sermon.
I did learn quite a bit about preaching and public speaking throughout seminary, though, and three particular pieces of advice have been especially useful. The first came from the seasoned Unitarian Universalist minister David Bumbaugh as he reflected on over 50 years of preaching. "I was scared every single time I got up to preach," he told us. "Your task is of the utmost importance. Your fear means that you are taking your responsibility seriously. And it should never stop you"
The second piece of advice came from a magazine article that a dear friend handed me and I soon pasted just above my computer screen so that I could see it every day. The quote was simple and clear. "Use your imagination not to scare yourself to death but to inspire yourself to life," it read.
The third and final piece of advice came during my internship year with Rob and Janne Eller-Isaacs. As I prepared to head out to the front of the sanctuary for my first sermon Rob leaned over and whispered in my ear, "They won't let you fail." They won't let you fail.
These three pieces of information and advice that I received about preaching - that it's normal to be scared and that we must move forward anyway - that I can choose to turn my creativity toward usefulness rather than fear - and that I am never ever alone, that the folks I am with actually want me to succeed - these three pieces of information, it turns out, are not only tips for preaching, but they are commonly known maxims in the world of improv theatre as well.
In her recent book, Improv Wisdom: Don't Prepare, Just Show Up - Stanford professor Patricia Ryan Madson explores the many ways that the skills and attitudes that improv players cultivate can translate into our spiritual lives.
Now how many of you know what improv theatre is? Perhaps you've seen the show, Whose Line Is It Anyway on tv - or gone to an improv comedy show.
If you have, you know that improv theatre showcases a style of acting that asks its players to come out on stage without pre-prepared lines and scripts and create characters and stories seemingly out of thin air. It's not always about comedy - but it is always true that in improv theatre - no one knows what is going to happen next - not even the actors.
I know that when I've seen great improv actors and comedians at work, one of the first things I say to myself is, I could never do that! But the truth of the matter is that we all improvise each and every day. Improvisation is a part of our heritage and of our very survival. Most of us operate under the illusion that planning keeps us safe - that if we know what our next step will be and keep our provisions close at hand - we will be ok. But planning isn't everything - and many of us find over time that in pursuing safety and security above all else - we are actually pursuing an illusion - a mirage - a goal that in its very pursuit only brings us more suffering.
I don't know about you - but I don't know anyone whose day or whose life has gone exactly as they planned - no matter how intelligent and insightful they might be. Life simply does not follow a script - and when things don't go exactly as we plan - we've got to be able to make up a new story right there on the spot. Evolutionary scientist "Charles Darwin recognized...this when he wrote, 'In the long history of humankind (and animalkind, too) those who learned to collaborate and improvise most effectively have prevailed."[1] Improvisation is not just a matter of fun - though that would be enough to have me advocating for it - but improvisation can be a matter of survival as well.
Improv actors know this - and they take up the challenge of improvisation not only on the stage but in their real lives as well. "Improvisation has nothing to do with wit, glibness, or comic ability," Madson explains. "A good improviser," she tells us, "is someone who is awake, not entirely self-focused, and moved by a desire to do something useful and give something back and who acts upon this impulse."[2] Someone who is awake and aware, not entirely self-focused, and moved to act on a desire to do something useful in the world. These sure sound like characteristics to aspire to for me - and they also sound a lot like the characteristics of a person on a spiritual journey.
Sharon Salzberg - renowned Buddhist teacher and scholar - tells the story of her first experience of improvisation in her spiritual life this way, when she was a college student preparing for a year abroad. "The breakout moment of faith was my decision to travel to India without knowing where to go once I got there. A few days before my departure, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, a Tibetan Buddhist teacher, was scheduled to speak in Buffalo. I decided to go...
After his talk, Trungpa Rinpoche asked people to submit written questions. Mine happened to be the first piece of paper he picked out of the huge stack in front of him. He read the question aloud: 'In a few days I am leaving for India to study Buddhism. Do you have any recommendations as to where I should go?' He was silent for a few moments, then in his precise British accent he replied, 'In this matter you had perhaps best follow the pretense of accident.' That was it - no names or addresses, no maps, no directions."[3]
As Salzberg goes on to share the rest of her story - she tells us how, once in India, she followed the advice of this unknown teacher - to follow the pretense of accident - traveling from place to place, making her way all over the country in search of what she needed, relying on the kindness of strangers and this pretense of accident until she finally found her teacher - the one who would help her to open her heart and deepen her practice so that she could give back to the world.
Improv players would explain Salzberg experience and her success many ways. Without even knowing it - she followed at least a half a dozen of their cardinal rules - the most obvious of which is my personal favorite - Just Show Up. It sounds a lot like Nike's Just Do It campaign, I know, but that campaign was likely so successful because it tapped into a message that many of us needed to hear. You don't have to know exactly what you are doing, and you don't even have to want to do whatever it is, they remind us - you just have to do it. Sometimes action itself can lead the way.
This first maxim that Salzberg followed on her travels - just show up - quickly leads me to the second maxim that she followed - start anywhere - the improvisers tell us. You don't have to prepare to take action - to go on stage - or to lead a spiritual life - you simply need to begin - whatever the facts of your life are - right where you are, wherever you are. And as you travel and wander, stay on course, the improvisers remind us. It is wonderful to take a meandering journey - but we must also keep our focus and keep our purpose in mind. When we keep the question - What is my purpose right now - in mind, we always travel with a guide - an internal compass that can help us to make our decisions in the moment. After all, professor Madson reminds us, "The invitation to improvise is not a prescription for a careless approach to life. True improvisation is always an act of responsibility; it implies a conscious morality."[4] This conscious morality that she talks about is our internal compass - the second kind of intelligence that Rumi spoke of earlier in his poem - the spring overflowing the springbox - already complete and preserved inside of us - that depth of knowing that each of us carry when we push aside the expectations of others and our own fears and uncover the truth of our own internal wisdom.
As we acknowledge the depth of our own wisdom - it can become easier to see others for the gifts that they are, rather than as challenges to our own progress. Wake up to the gifts all around us - the improvisers tell us - and never, ever forget to take care of each other. If one of us falls all of us fall - and sometimes the best thing we can offer is to simply stand with someone as they fumble and stumble - letting them know that they are not alone.
I could go on and on about the improv tools that Salzberg used on her journey - the tools for spiritual living that all of us tap into from time to time as well - but instead I will simply recommend the book - Improv Wisdom - to you and tell one more story - a story that exemplifies another of the great improvisation secrets that we might learn from. Simply stated this maxim reads - Make mistakes, please.
In 1992, the mountaineer Greg Mortenson, along with a crew of porters and climbers, attempted to scale K2 - the second-highest mountain in the world - the summit most climbers consider the toughest to reach on Earth - located in a remote region of Pakistan. The climb, unfortunately, had been a disaster. Injury and illness plagued Mortenson's group and no one had reached the summit. Mortenson began his descent feeling like a failure. And to make matters worse, in his fatigue Mortenson had got lost, separated from the others and all of his gear. With ingrained skill and shear luck as his guide - Mortenson eventually located his native porter and the two slowly made their way to the small village of Korphe - a village that clung to the side of a canyon wall much like a rock climber's sleeping platform that hangs suspended into the side of a sheer cliff. By the time they reached the village - Mortenson was seriously ill - and over the course of several weeks, the village people cared for the emaciated climber - sharing from their meager reserves the best that they had to offer.
As Mortenson recovered, he learned a great deal about the village and the unique and difficult life that people lived there. He grew close to the village chief and the families - and in listening to their hopes for the next generation it became increasingly clear that the village needed a school that could teach its children. In gratitude for all that he had been given, Mortenson took up this challenge - returning to the United States to raise the needed funds to purchase boards and cement and pay an annual salary for a teacher. After much time and frustration and disappointment - Mortenson finally raised the funds - a mere $12,000 - and made his way back to Pakistan. There he purchased the necessary materials, hired a truck, and began the long and arduous trek back to the mountain village. As he approached the village - Mortenson realized that it would be nearly impossible to bring the supplies with him - as the only way to and from the village was to travel hand over hand across a woven goat hair rope in a small basket across a steep and perilous valley. To make matters worse - in his absence - the village people in their knowledge of the land - had talked and decided that before they built a school, they would need a bridge. The supplies that Mortenson had brought wouldn't work for this purpose - and back he was sent to America to raise more money and begin again.
A slow and steady series of mistakes plagued Mortenson on his quest to build one school in the remote mountains of Pakistan - but each step of the way the climber turned visionary stayed on course - accepting the facts of the situation as they were - showing up - and moving forward. He took risks no one else would have dreamed of - and along the way he managed to build not just one school for the village of Korphe - but 53 schools throughout Pakistan - changing not only the lives of thousands of children in the region, but also single-handedly doing more to win the hearts and minds of those who have little choice but to turn to the education and escape offered by terrorist training camps than all of the official American propaganda that has flooded the region. Mortenson's desire to give back, his ability to stay on course, to show up and start exactly where he was, his ability see reality as it was and to take risks - making literally dozens and hundreds of mistakes along the way - these characteristics - the characteristics that improv artists cultivate and lean into - they each served him well and enabled his grand journey to reach success.
So these seemingly natural gifts of the improv player - the ability to start anywhere, to show up willing and enthusiastic not knowing where the show will go, the commitment to stand with one another no matter what, making mistakes and taking risks along the way - all of these gifts held together with a keen awareness and intention to pay attention - these gifts can guide us as we strive not only to have more fun in our lives - but also as we strive to align our actions with our values - going on a journey of the spirit - starting again and again right here and right now.
May we take up these challenges with an open heart - whether they be for us the building of a school, the softening of our hearts, the strengthening of a relationship - or the baking of a cake in a bright red dress - as our poet instructed this morning. May we lean in to the wisdom of these improve players - learning and laughing along the way.
May it be so, and Amen.
July 8, 2007
- Patricia Ryan Madson, Improv Wisdom: Don't Prepare, Just Show Up. (Bell Tower: New York; 2005), p. 22.
- Ibid. 15.
- Sharon Salzberg. Faith: Trusting Your Own Deepest Experience. (Riverhead Books: New York, 2002), pp. 17-18.
- Patricia Ryan Madson, Improv Wisdom: Don't Prepare, Just Show Up. (Bell Tower: New York; 2005), p.24.