by Naomi | Apr 6, 2016 | Creative Life
When we don’t leave room in our plans, we squash the possibility of surprise. What’s worse, we often don’t realize we’re limiting ourselves.
Picture two actors onstage, beginning an improvised scene.
Actor One: (pointing frantically) Oh no, look, it’s a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Actor Two: (leaning forward) And look, he’s nodding at us. I think he’s trying to tell us something.
Actor One: He’s running straight toward us! Run!
Actor Two: (running along behind Actor One, looking over her shoulder) I wonder if we should try to talk to him?
Actor One: He’s a monster. AGGGGH! Run!
Actor Two can’t salvage the scene, and ends up running offstage with Actor One. The scene is over.
In improv, we call this scenario “saying no.”
Actor One began the scene planning for a T-Rex to chase her offstage. No matter what her scene partner said, Actor One insisted the scene go as she planned. She said no to all the options and possible surprises Actor Two introduced.
Why might this happen?
Actor One might be feeling nervous. The audience is watching, and the silence is lengthening. So, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. There’s a T-Rex! Good! Drama. Danger. The silence is broken. But Actor Two, relieved of the burden of introducing the first idea, sees the dead-end problem in the scene. Two actors shrieking and running away isn’t really a scene. So, Actor Two introduces the possibility that this T-Rex isn’t like other dinosaurs. If Actor One allows this new idea to develop, something interesting might happen. Neither actor is responsible entirely for the success of the scene. Both actors are likely to be surprised. When actors are bold enough to say yes to the unknown, interesting things can happen.
Often, we say no in our real lives, too.
- We have a firm agenda for a meeting or class and refuse to be sidetracked, even when interesting opportunities for learning or exploration arise.
- We mentally script a conversation or confrontation and don’t leave room to listen and respond in real time.
- We schedule our days to their very edges and don’t leave room for serendipitous detours.
Unfortunately, the solution isn’t as easy as throwing plans out the window. Classes, confrontations, and even day-to-day schedules suffer if we don’t prepare at all. Maybe here, we can learn a thing or two from improvisational actors.
- First, improv actors know that improvisation is a skill to be practiced and refined. It’s not a “who cares, I don’t need a script” attitude. Rather, improv actors shift their focus from practicing for ONE predictable scenario into practicing for a MULTITUDE of scenarios. They practice listening, saying yes, and adding ideas to move the game forward.
- Second, improv actors know that every scene is an experiment. Some will work better than others, and some will completely fail. They accept the failures as part of the learning process.
- Third, improv actors build possibilities in the spaces between people, rather than limiting the options to their own experience, ideas and skill set. They aren’t afraid to collaborate and to allow others to help.
Recently, I’ve been challenged to take steps forward into new territory–artistically, professionally, and personally. What’s fascinating is how pertinent my improv training continues to be, no matter how far the challenge is from an actual stage. It turns out that improvisation can be a training ground for real life. As in on-stage improv, when you approach life’s situations with an open-for-surprise attitude, delightful things can happen.
I wonder: In what life situation might you practice the art of improvisation? I hope you try it, and if you do, share your story on Instagram or Twitter and tag me. I’d love to hear how the experiment goes for you.
by Naomi | Feb 17, 2016 | Creative Life
I’ve been flying through life at break-neck pace, and that’s how I ended up in New York with hardly an inkling of a plan. I knew I needed to be in town by Thursday mid-day for a meeting, and that the conference spanned the weekend. Other than that, I’d hardly consulted the schedule. I figured I’d find nooks and crannies in my schedule to explore New York, particularly since my husband was joining me for the weekend.
So, I flew in late Wednesday night and woke up Thursday morning with an empty slate. What to do?
My first thought was: I wish I’d made a plan. But my second thought was filled with curiosity: I wonder what’s around the corner from this hotel?
And the adventure began.
It turns out that around every corner in New York, surprises wait. Cathedrals, libraries, museums, unusual shops, coffee bars, restaurants, artists, musicians, a kaleidoscope of people–each a walking story in and of themselves. As I stepped onto the sidewalk in New York, I was swept into the bustling, vibrant flow.
If I’d had a plan, I’d have been frustrated. I can picture myself, head down against that cold New York wind, struggling toward my destination, missing all the surprises along the way. But without a plan, I could soak it all in, see what I didn’t know to look for, discover the richness that isn’t in the tour books.
I wonder how often my plans keep me from being in the flow?
Flow is quite different than drift. It’s true that without a plan, we have the potential to drift through life and find ourselves where we never would have chosen to be. But flow is a shortcut. Consider a character in a book who sets out to achieve a goal. By the end of the book, she nearly always finds that what she really needs is something deeper, more meaningful, than the goal she originally set. The plans she sets launch her into motion, but soon, the plan tends to get in the way. Why? Because she’s so focused on her idea of how things ought to go, she doesn’t allow margin for surprise. She doesn’t allow herself to be swept into the bigger story of what’s happening all around her. She’s struggling against the flow.
So how do we strike a balance between plans and flow?
- Start by not being afraid to set a goal. Take into account what’s true in your life, and using those givens, set a goal that points you in a specific direction.
- Head out boldly. Let your goal inform the questions that you ask and the experiences you seek out.
- Listen closely. Pay attention. Allow yourself to follow your curiosity. I wonder what’s inside that cathedral? Go ahead, wander a bit. Your goal will still be there waiting for you, but maybe you’ll see it in richer color through the stained glass windows.
- Look for secret passages and hidden doorways. Drift happens when we lose our way by following every distraction. Flow is being caught in an ever-increasing current and heading deeper in. Why did I set this goal? What’s underneath? What’s urging me onward?
- Keep in mind that “plan” is a noun and “flow” is a verb. When you’re in flow, there’s no destination. No one can stay in flow indefinitely. You’ll find beauty and joy along the way, and have a grand, meaningful adventure. And every now and again, you’ll get tangled in the weeds. When that happens, it’s time, again, to go back to the beginning and set a new plan.
Where are you right now? In a planning phase? Drifting? Flowing? Do you have particular questions you ask yourself that help you find flow? If so, I’d be so grateful if you’d share them. Share below, or feel free to connect with me on Twitter (@naomikinsman) or Facebook.
Here’s to you and your grand adventure!
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by Naomi | Feb 3, 2015 | Creative Life
As I’ve been working through my hero’s journey process, I’ve been reading The Writer’s Journey by Christopher Vogler. After the chapter on the Call to Adventure, there’s a chapter on Refusing the Call, which I assumed I’d skip. Since I set this process out for myself ahead of time, I knew it would feel false to purposely “refuse the call.” Obviously, I planned to accept the adventure. I committed to taking the journey when I created my travelogue journal and bought the coins for each stage and found the hollow book in which to put my daily notes.
But low and behold, a surprise! I shouldn’t have been surprised, given the fact that no one has ever heard of a simple hero’s journey. The point of setting out was to tackle something challenging, to grow personally and creatively, to wrestle those parts of myself that derail me and get in my way. A hero’s journey stretches a traveler’s courage, patience and hope. Often, a hero’s journey leads a traveler to the brink of despair.
In fact, this epic nature of a hero’s journey was the reason I wasn’t sure setting the process up for myself ahead of time would work. How could I be sure I’d face something authentically challenging? If I knew ahead of time I was headed to a difficult place, wouldn’t I avoid the worst of it or act as thought I were facing a true challenge when in point of fact it was more of a speed bump?
Nope. Turns out there is plenty of room for surprise.
On Saturday, I took out my cards from this past month and laid them all out on the floor. These cards, in case you haven’t read about them before, are notes I’ve been writing, one per day, on a key thought or discovery from the day. They read with sentences and phrases such as “Big projects are best tackled one step at a time,” or “Exercise patience,” or “Story matters. It’s how we make sense of the world…” I organized my notes and found that they became a sort of narrative that flowed one thought to the other. Rather than flowing in a chronological order from day to day, re-ordered, the cards made a kaleidoscopic picture of where my mind has traveled, and gave me a sense (which I couldn’t have otherwise articulated) of what the call to adventure truly is, right now, in my life.
And once I realized what the call was, I thought I’d simply move forward. I’d already planned to toss my coin into water to cross from one stage of the journey to the next, so all I needed to do was to go out and do it. But, that was when I stalled out. All day, I had a myriad of excuses. Maybe I’d do it tomorrow.
On Sunday, it was the same. Maybe tomorrow.
Monday? Yep, you’ve got it. Total avoidance.
So, I read the chapter on refusing the call, and my reaction (and resistance) started to make more sense. I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow.
by Naomi | Jul 24, 2014 | Creative Life
I have to admit, when I picked up Urban Watercolor Sketching by Felix Scheinberger, I thought, I’ll just see what I can take from this technique and make my own. There has to be a way to use watercolors with more control, sharper lines, more definition…
Then, I read the first page where Scheinberger wrote, “Watercolor is, however, not just a technique; it is almost an attitude. Watercolor always does what it wants. In a way, it is willful and anarchical. Therefore, for me the secret to using watercolor to create pictures lies in striking a balance between control and letting go.”
Uh-oh. Just when I thought I was loosening up, I slammed into another internal wall. I thought I was ready to play with watercolors but I was actually planning to force the medium to fit between my very limiting lines.
Intrigued, I read on. And on and on. I almost forgot to eat dinner I was so wrapped up in this book. Instead of starting with an art supply shopping list and step-by-step instructions, Scheinberger launched into the history of gum arabic, stories of pigments and where they originated, specifics of how watercolors work on the page layer by layer and the science of color.
Through each passionate word and image, Scheinberger enchanted me, surprised me, took me where I never expected to go. I thought I wanted a how-to book. Turns out, what I got was a book that challenged me to continue letting go. To let myself be an artist in a new way. To play and experiment. When I finished the book, I turned back to the title. Urban Watercolor Sketching? I don’t know. Obviously they couldn’t have called the book Fall in Love with Watercolors. But I did fall in love while reading this book.
You know that feeling you get when you can’t wait to see someone but you think you probably should spend twenty more minutes in front of the mirror, getting ready? You’re excited and also a little bit afraid? That’s how I feel about watercolors now. I can’t wait to put some paint on the page. Also, I want to live up to the history and depth and beauty of the medium, which I never knew about before. In the book, Scheinberger tells a story about an ancient Chinese painter who worked patiently for a long time in preparation for one masterful painting. He was a master, but it still took him a long time to prepare. And there’s the reminder. Living up to the medium is more about delighting in the process rather than expecting a certain outcome.
Urban Watercolor Sketching is dessert for the creative soul. Don’t miss it!
I received this book for free from Blogging for Books for this review.
