My belief is that improv is not only a performance art, it is a way of life. For many years I was not able to live this belief fully. When invited to give talks at the Performance Studies International or the Art Institute of Chicago or other major events, I meticulously prepared notes, wrote out many drafts of my talks, and then finalized a version which I would then read out aloud and publish. I prided myself on the fact that I was known to perform my talks, engaging the audience rather than talking down to them.
In my daily life, in my teaching at the University, my theater classes, I improvised. I never prepared anything. So this was the way things stood: in the little things in life, the daily affairs I lived my belief that life is one big improvisation. But in the big things, I scripted, rehearsed, memorized.
This split became unbearable in this last year after many months of traveling in India as a Fulbright scholar. I could see that there could be only one truth. Either life was planning, preparation, predetermined or momentary, magical, magnificent. It came to me on a long trek in the deserts of Rajasthan that My truths were the Ms: momentary, magical, magnificent!
So I returned to California with the idea that improv must be the way I live my life entirely. A few weeks later I was invited to Atlanta to give two talks. I decided, for the first time in my life for such an important occasion, not to have any idea beforehand what I was going to say. The night before the talk I meditated as I do every day. Then I wrote down 5 things that were important to me about the subject I was going to talk about the next day. 2 minutes later I was done, I put my notebook away and never again looked at what I had written down. The next day I gave two hour-long talks that were entirely different from each other, entirely improv-ed, and entirely satisfying. I received a standing ovation after each of them.
A few weeks after that I was invited to speak at a commencement ceremony. Once again I wrote down what I thought was important, then put it away. As I walked up to the podium a voice inside my head said, Abhay let go of what you wrote down last night, let go of everything. And I did. For a moment everything went blank. I felt nervous like I have never felt before. I just stood there for a very long time. Then I looked at the people around me, proud parents, friends, students and loved ones and I saw the sun shining and I found myself saying, sincerely, "Isn't this a beautiful day?" and then it just flowed simply, honestly, straightforwardly. I connected with the pulse and went with it. To this day I have no recollection of what else I said that day. I only know that many hands patted my back, many hands were thrust in my direction, all of which I gave a hearty shake. I felt like I had graduated.
May we all graduate to becoming improv women and improv men!
May the pulse be with you: momentary, magical, magnificent!
Abhay
In my daily life, in my teaching at the University, my theater classes, I improvised. I never prepared anything. So this was the way things stood: in the little things in life, the daily affairs I lived my belief that life is one big improvisation. But in the big things, I scripted, rehearsed, memorized.
This split became unbearable in this last year after many months of traveling in India as a Fulbright scholar. I could see that there could be only one truth. Either life was planning, preparation, predetermined or momentary, magical, magnificent. It came to me on a long trek in the deserts of Rajasthan that My truths were the Ms: momentary, magical, magnificent!
So I returned to California with the idea that improv must be the way I live my life entirely. A few weeks later I was invited to Atlanta to give two talks. I decided, for the first time in my life for such an important occasion, not to have any idea beforehand what I was going to say. The night before the talk I meditated as I do every day. Then I wrote down 5 things that were important to me about the subject I was going to talk about the next day. 2 minutes later I was done, I put my notebook away and never again looked at what I had written down. The next day I gave two hour-long talks that were entirely different from each other, entirely improv-ed, and entirely satisfying. I received a standing ovation after each of them.
A few weeks after that I was invited to speak at a commencement ceremony. Once again I wrote down what I thought was important, then put it away. As I walked up to the podium a voice inside my head said, Abhay let go of what you wrote down last night, let go of everything. And I did. For a moment everything went blank. I felt nervous like I have never felt before. I just stood there for a very long time. Then I looked at the people around me, proud parents, friends, students and loved ones and I saw the sun shining and I found myself saying, sincerely, "Isn't this a beautiful day?" and then it just flowed simply, honestly, straightforwardly. I connected with the pulse and went with it. To this day I have no recollection of what else I said that day. I only know that many hands patted my back, many hands were thrust in my direction, all of which I gave a hearty shake. I felt like I had graduated.
May we all graduate to becoming improv women and improv men!
May the pulse be with you: momentary, magical, magnificent!
Abhay
1 comment:
Almost cried when I read this! SO fantastic!
Post a Comment