Shall We Improvise?

 

                        “In the long history of humankind (and animal kind, too) those who learned to collaborate and improvise most effectively have prevailed.”                                                                                 ― Charles Darwin

                                                  Shall We Improvise?

Dreaming of a well-organized life, stress free? When was the last time that everything went exactly as planned?  Good luck. And in our crazy, cattywumpus Covid world there is very little that is stable and predictable.  The reality is that we are improvising most of the time. So, why not take a few tips from the professionals?  

I’ve spent a wonderful career teaching improvisation around the globe and across ages and professions including thousands of Stanford students. I’m not talking about improv comedy, although some study this work to perform on stage. Improvisors are able to create full length plays without a script because they are operating on a few simple, yet profound maxims.  My tilt is using the foundational principles of improvisation as a Mindset for a meaningful life.  These principles can help you become a better listener, a more grateful partner and a more confident you. Here are the four pillars of improv:

Attention

Acceptance

Appreciation

Action

Attention is our superpower. Never take it for granted. Use it to improve your life. Begin to take control of what you are noticing.  Notice what you notice.  And if your mind drifts off into rumination, anxiety, or daydreams return your attention to the world you inhabit.  Notice the detail of that world.  And, if you can, savor the moment.  Isn’t this tangerine succulent? What a nice breeze this afternoon? “What am I doing right now?  Scrambling eggs.  Don’t they look delicious.” It is common to walk around lost in thought.  Start the habit of noticing more.  Shift your attention from self to other.  Become a better listener.  Observe your world more deeply.

Acceptance is the foundation of a satisfying life.  The improvisor’s basic rule is to say yes to all offers.  Of course, this isn’t the same thing as liking whatever comes your way.  Acceptance implies a default perspective of opening to what life brings.  We say yes—AND.  This means to build upon the reality you find yourself in.  Life may bring you an unexpected illness or professional surprise.  The improvisor says:  “Now how can I work with this?  How can I find the good and make this into something interesting--even a win?  We build upon our capacity to take a constructive and positive attitude toward life.  

Appreciation is the capacity to “find the good and praise it.” This is the life skill of constantly asking the question: “What am I receiving now and from whom?” I am a great believer in radical gratitude. This involves more than the current fad of thinking of ‘three things I’m grateful for.’ Ordinarily we only feel gratitude for things we like or that make us happy.  What about all of those services and things that keep our lives going? Even the ones we pay for . . .

Thanking people for work well done and for things we like and to those who are nice and cheerful and thoughtful should be a no brainer. What I’m suggesting today is something fundamental; I want us all to take a deeper look at the support we receive—all the time—from countless individuals.  Who or what makes your life possible right now?  This computer allows me to write this article.  Thanks to those who designed and created it, and thanks to my husband who gave it me as a gift.  When we really start to notice our world (see Attention above) we can discover that we are “thirsty, swimming in the lake” . . . that is, everything we need is around us if we simply pay attention to it.  Appreciation takes an ordinary life and makes it extraordinary.

 

Action creates our world.  What we do matters.  While we can’t control feelings per se we can always control our behavior.  Feeling a little grumpy and sad?  Try doing something physical . . . clean out one shelf in the pantry.  Sweep the sidewalk.  Fold the laundry.  Take a long, spirited walk and notice the colors of the season.  Or turn your appreciation into action:  write a thank you note by hand and mail it.  Improvisors know that we can take a step into the unknown to discover where we are going.  We can act without knowing the outcome; and by starting anywhere we get the engine running and in no time we find a direction.  The improvisors' motto is :  ready, fire, aim!    Maybe it is not so crazy to begin something without a clear or complete plan. If we take a first step in any direction we are in a new position to see what is possible. Uncertainty is natural.

 

The practice of improvising our lives teaches us to trust reality and have confidence in our ability to manage challenges.  And, in the act of improvising we are likely to make some mistakes.  This is natural.  Applaud yourself when it doesn’t work out.  Learn something from it and redirect your focus.  Mistakes are so often our friends.

 

And a final piece of improv advice is to “aim for average” . . . Use your ordinary mind to do or create what is obvious to you.  Relax your “clever” muscles.  You will do better if you give up trying so hard.  Be average.  It’s enough.

 

I’ve found that the maxims of improvising turn out to be valuable life advice.  You might seek out an improv class to test this thesis.  Even if you are sure that you have no talent for improvising you will likely be surprised when you try.  Or you may find some ideas and exercises in my book, Improv Wisdom, Don’t Prepare, Just Show Up, 2005, Bell Tower Books, Random House.  It’s available as an audio and Ebook and it’s in nine languages.  It’s full of tips and exercises.

 

And you have my wish for a life of many happy improvisations.  Keep on saying YES to life.

 

 

The Moffles

The talented artist and Family Therapist, Mikenda Plant of the U. K. specializes in helping children who are adopted or have experienced trauma. She has done me the honor of using the Maxims from Improv Wisdom as advice for kids. Thank you Mikenda. Find her work online at TheMoffles.com.

Theatre that changed everything . . .

  December 31, 1965 The Martin Beck Theater, New York City  

It was New Years eve over fifty years ago. I remember it clearly. The new year 1966 was about to be heralded in all over Manhattan. Outside Times Square was packed for the dropping of the ball.  But I was not out celebrating. I was sitting in my third row center orchestra seat in the Martin Beck Theater on Broadway ten minutes after the house had cleared. The orchestra was now empty following the performance. An occasional usher was checking under the seats for programs or debris. I was still sitting sobbing gently and my whole body was shaking.  Trying to understand my state the word ‘catharsis’ came to mind. I felt fundamentally changed. The theater as a vehicle for transformation seemed obvious now. What had happened?  The final notes of  Richard Peaslee’s music still hung in the auditorium. Kokol spoke directly to me and screamed: “When will you learn to take sides?” I found this a personal message.

 

 I had to speak with someone connected with the production. 

 

Still shaking and with tears running down my face I made my way outside and to the backstage door and knocked.  A stage manager opened it and seemed surprised on seeing a 23 year old woman, clearly in extremis.  “Can I help you?” he said, with concern in his voice.  “I need to speak to somebody in the company please,” I begged.  I expect that my emotional state was justification for him to invite me backstage.  He ushered me down the hall toward the dressing room for Patrick McGee and Ian Richardson, the stars of the play, The Persecution and Assassination of Jean Paul Maret as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum at Cheranton under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade which had been directed by the incomparable Peter Brook. The play was in its final week of previews and I had scored a ticket out of great good luck or by providence. 

 

Ian Richardson opened the door to his dressing room and seeing me still sobbing, almost shouted:  “What happened to you?”  .  .   .   “I just saw YOUR PLAY,” I blurted out.  

He and McGee actually laughed and then he said:  “Looks like you need a drink.” And he went over to a bottle of Scotch and poured some into a paper cup.  I think I began babbling something about how much this had affected me. I didn’t stay long and I don’t remember much more about that moment except to say that these two world famous actors were very kind to this crazy lady who was still under the spell of their profoundly disturbing and inspiring production.  

 

It’s not hyperbole to say that this play “changed my life.”  The injunction to “take sides” led me to become actively involved in political action around the civil rights struggle that was going on in the South were I lived.  Segregation was being challenged, and I knew that I had to go back to Virginia and do something to help the cause.  I chose to put together a mixed race acting company to perform a Readers Theater production of “In White America,” a docudrama about civil rights issues.  It was intended to instruct as well as open up the conversation about race.  Just traveling together in the same vehicle provoked stares and the occasional rude remark or gesture.  Lunch counters were still segregated in most of the South, so our little group of integrated players had many challenges.  I had to take sides.

 

I was in graduate school at the time all this happened, and I was making decisions about what to do with my life. This experience of feeling the enormity of theater in Marat/Sade was the cause of my decision to pursue theater as a career. From a meta perspective, I learned that theater could have the power of atomic fusion.  And so strong was my interest in this particular theatrical event that I chose to write my Master’s Thesis on the achievements of Peter Brook, who was then a rising star at age 43.  Peter’s father, Simon Brook kindly invited me to his home to peruse his mountain of scrapbooks with articles about his son.  Enclosed in this bag is an envelope with a USB drive containing the manuscript of the unpublished Thesis.  

 

A few years later I met up with Brook at the Roundhouse when he was in the final stages of rehearsing The Tempest.  I made the acquaintance of Yoshi Oida with whom I studied in Paris in the summer of 1984. A few years later I marveled at the magic of Brook’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and the spiritual message of his Mahabarata which I saw in LA.

 

In the nearly half century since I saw Marat/Sade the world has spun on a new axis.  I wonder what we would make of this experience if the play were produced today? I know it still speaks to us.  I have a deep gratitude to Peter Brook for his visionary leadership.   I admire that he has always been a seeker. His work raises the level of the art into the realm of the spirit.  

 

Thank you, Peter Brook, my own career was inspired by your work.  I am grateful.

With appreciation and respect,

 

Patricia Ryan Madson

 

April 21, 2017

El Granada, CA 94018

Musings on food and the joys of sharing it . . .

 

Off this morning to the Coastside Farmer’s Market.  There are still a few weeks to acquire the perfect heirloom tomatoes.  And the Cipponeri Family Farms in Turlock, CA have their luscious peaches and other stone fruit in abundance now.  Tricolor corn from the local fields is in my basket today along with some dark green kale, cucumbers, a dozen perfect tomatoes and a loaf of artisanal rye/multigrain sourdough bread.  Lunch today was a slice of that good bread with some Dijon mustard and some fresh ham and a tangy swiss cheese.  A really good bread can make a meal. And, one of the peaches was at its point of perfection.  Nothing was needed to make that peach a taste memory.  “Do I dare to eat a peach?” declared Mr. Prufrock.  Indeed. 

 

My friend, JD Hixson and I are exchanging thoughts on food and the good life.  He speaks of a Gourmet Paradigm, a mindset around food that involves harmony, evolution, and sustainability as foundations of the philosophy.  Until reading this thoughtful essay I had not considered food to have a “mindset”—but of course, it does, whether or not we are conscious of it.  So, I began to ponder: what are my values around food acquisition, preparation, cooking and sharing?  

 

My first teacher was a remarkable woman, friend and mentor, Josephine Landor. Her husband, Walter, a highly cultured German gentleman founded Landor Associates in San Francisco, a global leader in brand consulting and design located on a ferryboat docked in the San Francisco Bay. They had homes in the city, Kenwood in the wine country and Puerta Vallarta. My wedding was at their St. Helena, CA estate.  Josephine seemed to have been born with elegant and discriminating taste.  I learned from her a basic respect for and care of ingredients.  When we brought home a fresh head of lettuce, romaine, for example, she always carefully washed the lettuce, discarding any blemished leaves, then drying the leaves and placing them in either a plastic container or bag lined with a paper towel.  The towel would absorb any excess moisture. She kept this in the refrigerator.  So when we went to make a salad in the evening our lettuce was crisp and clean and ready for mixing and serving.  I have continued this tradition and I’m fond of adding a crisp salad to many evening meals.  I learned from Ed Brown of the Zen Center that you could make a great variety of salads by using this basic guidance: 

 

1. Fresh lettuce or greens (kale, spinach, endive, etc. watercress, etc)

 

2. Vegetables (tomatoes, carrots, squash, cucumbers, green onions, celery)

 

                        OR a single fruit

3 Fruit  (apple, mandarin oranges, grapes, peaches, pears, kiwis, watermelon, etc.)

 

            You can experiment with having fruit and some vegetables together, but not all are happy bedfellows. Best to separate. Tomatoes are technically a fruit, but according to a reputable source:

 

 

“Tomatoes are botanically defined as fruits because they form from a flower and contain seeds. Still, they're most often utilized like a vegetable in cooking. In fact, the US Supreme Court ruled in 1893 that the tomato should be classified as a vegetable on the basis of its culinary applications.”

 

 

4.  Nuts or seeds  (walnuts, pecans, cashews, almonds, sesame seeds, etc.  Glazed nuts are very nice.)

 

5. Cheese.  (Blue cheese or Gorgonzola, Parmesan, Asiago, Gouda, etc.)

 

Hence a green plus a fruit, plus a nut/seed, plus a cheese   . . .  invent your own.

 

Or, of course, if you have something as precious and seasonal as an heirloom tomato, then perhaps forget all of this lettuce formula.  Nothing beats a ripe heirloom with the tiniest drizzle of a fine olive oil and a sprinkle of white balsamic.  Or simply serve it au natural.

 

Anatomy of an Improv Workshop Failure

This essay was written on June 19, 2015 but it seems worth telling again.  Be wary of ballrooms

Anatomy of an Improv Workshop Failure

The Tyranny of Tables

By Patricia Ryan Madson

 

 

I’m an improviser so nothing really seems an obstacle to me when I consider the location for an appearance.  I have given workshops in a wide variety of physical setups and I’ve always found a way to work around a less than optimal working space . . . until this time.  My husband is fond of reminding me that my anxiety and sleeplessness the night before I’m going to teach or present is just a fact of life.  I can’t remember a time when my phone call home immediately following an engagement didn’t begin with:  “It went great!!  Until yesterday.    Instead my reply was: “It was a disaster.  Everybody rolled their eyes and reached for their cellphones.  I could not find a way to salvage it.”

 

I’m going to keep the details of this particular engagement anonymous so  that I don’t  appear to cast blame on the client.  As the featured presenter it’s my job to “prepare” something suitable for the client.  This event was a weekend retreat to celebrate the accomplishments of educators who were supervisors and principles in a specific region of the state.  These men and women sit in the trenches all day in school admin offices likely hearing complaints from staff, teachers, parents and children.  They are “where the buck stops” in most cases. This particular event, staged at a very elegant winery complete with gourmet meals and wine tasting, was capped with an evening of awards and thanks.  

 

For the two days leading up to the awards banquet, the 300+ participants had been sitting in a 6000 sq. foot dining room with fifty round tables facing the podium and  a medium sized screen for the projection of the obligatory Power Point that by law, I think, must accompany all presentation events in the twentieth century.  My hostess had inquired the day before I arrived if I would like to send my Power Point for inclusion to their website.   

 

Truth be told:  I hate Power Points.  Their linear composition is ANTI Improv, if you think about it.   However, in the past, when I’ve had the poor judgment (or greed) to accept a gig as a Keynote Speaker rather than a workshop leader I have done the occasional Power Point of slides that provide graphic support to such ideas as Say YES,  Try Stuff, Really Listen . . .  etc.   Recently I’ve been creating these mindless backups as little colorful artworks on my digital app. 

 

Okay, so I sent my Power Point via email to the event organizer and carried my laptop to the event in case I’d need to plug it in.  

 

I arrived two hours early to spec out the location in an attempt to figure out a strategy for managing a workshop in a less than desirable space. And, by the way, the optimal space for teaching improv is a semi-empty room with a circle of chairs that can be moved and rearranged.  It needs to be large enough that the full group of folks participating in the workshop can stand in a circle or four or five circles and be able to see each other.  This was not the case here.

 

I should have known I was in trouble when I was greeted with the news that my “presentation” would be held in the large ballroom with the fifty tables.  There was a small ring of space around the perimeter of the room.  I asked my host if it would be okay to move some of the tables to provide an open space to assemble people to do exercises and try things.  The reply was, “no, I’m sorry, we really can’t move any of the tables . . . there is an event immediately following yours that needs the setup just as it is.”  Okey, dokey.  So, we will work with that.  Hmmmmm

 

My hostess introduced me as an important professor from Stanford who was a “serious researcher” in this field.  (Really, these were her words.) And not to expect any fluffy, airy fairy kinds of games, etc.  Indeed they were to be assured that no one would have to do anything and would not be called on to make a fool of themselves.  Welcome, Dr. Patricia Madson.”  (Quickest PhD in history . . .)

 

Oh, and when I suggested that the random 89 people scattered at the fifty tables all move closer or together so that they were sitting in groups, she said:  “No, they aren’t going to do that.”  Mama mia.

 

So, here we go.  Slide one:  “Trust your own voice. “  As I looked out onto the scattering of people all around the room . . . sitting mostly near the exits and walls  I tried one futile suggestion.  “Hello, how is everyone today?  How about those of you sitting alone or in the back to move forward so that we can work together better. “ I shouted encouragingly   About six people moved a few inches closer.  “How will I ever get people to work together in this setting?  At least in a large auditorium you have shoulder to shoulder proximity and a way to “turn to a partner.”  

 

 I am now milling around the tables with a hand held mike smiling and trying to seem encouraging about a workshop that it didn’t appear anyone was pleased to be attending.   Okay, lets try this:  “Three things in common!”  (This is Rebecca’s great beginning to get things moving and laughing.)  Okay:  GO, find three thing things in common not connected to work.  Go)  Mild roaring for a while.  So then I started going around to each table to get the results.  I told everybody who was also included to shout out:  ME TOO!!    First table:  “Clothes, shoes, we have kids.”  Okay.  So, you all have on clothes!  (Everybody that does too, shout: Me Too)    Two people say Me Too in a monotone.    Next table:  “We have kids.  We like travel.  We have shoes on.”    I continued to try and get the whole room roaring Me TOO over some obvious thing, but it wasn’t happening.  I kept trying to salvage the game and as I roamed around the tables folks just seemed mildly annoyed at this stupid exercise.  Lordy, I am dying here, I thought.  

 

I wish I could say that I somehow turned it around.  I wasn’t about to simply give up the idea of a workshop in favor of me just talking about improv for an hour.   So, I lead every exercise I could mange to organize with this setup.  I gave up wondering or worrying over what someone without a partner would do.  Most of them used the occasions to check their messages.   I led listening exercises.  I led group YES games, planning a meeting first with blocking, then with Yes-And!  I demonstrated and cajoled the “Reminisce” story game.  Whenever the participants were supposed to be doing one of the partner games I noticed that only about half of the group were actually trying the game.  And once this became the norm there didn’t seem to be any way to get everybody doing anything!   Some would try the game, others looked on apprehensively, a few quietly left the room. 

 

At the end I said that I wanted to finish our session by giving everyone a gift and I invited them to “see” the gift in front of them.  I asked each of them to open the package and lift out what they found.  When I encouraged them to  “share what you received” at least one person at every table said: “There was nothing in my box.”  Nope.  Nothing. 

 

And, that’s the way it was.  Nothing in my box.  Mercifully the hour ended and I thanked everyone for their “participation” such as it was.  Lordy how  those ballroom tables can kill connection.  So, be wary, my friends, and tuck some strategy away, or simply announce at the outset:  This isn’t going to work.  Want to join me doing something different?