Improv comedy involves an improvised scene propelled by a group bold enough to entertain a crowd.
I took several months of Improv classes in my early twenties at Endgames Improv and Leela SF. While I came for one goal, to be wittier, I was surprised by how well Improv techniques embodied wellness practices, many of which shaped my personal growth in my early 20s. These practices include self-acceptance, finding identity, and honoring that life is long.
Acceptance
“Yes, And”
In the first level, the instructors emphasize a guiding rule, “Yes and”, to facilitate world building. If one person provides a line, the other person is encouraged to accept the thought as the source of truth, and build on top of that. For example:
”Wow, Mars has so many green aliens”
A “yes” response would be, “Yes, and the aliens are offering pretzels to us!"“
A “no” response, “No, Mars has no aliens here”.
For improv beginners, the thought-stopping derails the second player and chips away at both the players’ trust. Even worse, under all these burdens, the second player must attempt to supply new content.
This improv technique is the live-action demonstration of a core principle of wellness, self-acceptance. Self-acceptance is the acknowledgement and embracement of all of our parts.
As someone who has struggled with self-acceptance for years, I have read a lot on ways to handle my self-denial. Most notably, I have studied cognitive behavior therapy (CBT) and Internal Family System (IFS). CBT advocates that acknowledging our flaws is healing inwards and outwards. Similarly, IFS describes that each of our unhealed parts is its own entity, and addressing each entity brings self-resolution.
Reading was different from embodying. In the blink of a scene, improv powerfully reaffirming that “flaws” are not only worth interacting with, they create the value of the whole. I was suddenly learning to self-sooth and play with both flaws unknown to me and my own.
A good friend pointed out this improv rule is etched across philosophy as well. For example, “Yes and” closely resembles a Buddhist concept, “Annica” (impermanence), which describes that existence remains forever in a flux, or a continuous becoming, like a flowing river. Rather than resisting change, Annica encourages that we embrace the transient nature of all things. I was touched by the deliberate practice of Annica in Improv.
Identity
where am I != who am I
The next level of my Improv series was titled, “Character”. In the class, we played a game where a player is provided a scene and then prompted to flesh out a character. After a few moments, the player is then prompted with a new scene and instructed to carry on as the same character. Typically, the player will refine their most distinctive traits from the earlier scene.
I unintentionally re-enacted this game when I moved to New York City. I was suddenly grappling with what parts of me were Tanzeela, Tanzeela and San Fransisco, and San Francisco.
In the first few weeks, I constantly questioned whether I had any identity outside of San Francisco. This is a very real extension of the debacle the Improv player faces when the scene changes. To really hit the nail on the head, I had moved into an NYC hacker house, warranting me the identity of a “hacker”. My new identity became the subject of conversation with almost everyone I met, prompting me to develop and define what it means to be a hacker, all whilst grappling with my lost identities.
Moving is identity molding in a way that the scene-changing improv game accurately reflects. Just like in the game, I unconsciously shed the skills that no longer served me and retained the passions that I had fostered while in San Francisco.
Life is Long
we are a collection of stories
I took a break from learning improv and began watching a good friend’s Harold form improv shows. Harold is an improv style that consists of three scenes, in which the players connect ideas from the first two scenes in the final scene. This Improv form is capable of depicting multiple stages of life in one show.
In one of the shows I recently watched, a character was obsessed with his journal, clinging to it in every interaction. In every scene, we gathered more context on his love for journaling. In the final scene, we see him as child, receiving the journal for the first time. Instead of cherishing it as he had done in all the prior scenes, he drops the journal on the ground and stomps on it.
Just like that, he had flipped the scene on its head and caught everyone off guard, in way that made perfect sense. We see that his passion for journaling had a beginning, a build up, and a now. In these scenes, he had accelerates through his life stages alongside this habit, which otherwise would require a lifetime to appreciate.
I am currently learning to play piano and my instructor pointed out my tendency to hold my breath until the end of a phrase, a continuous series of notes. This habit is a relic from when I played flute which mandated holding my breath for several measures. I had unknowingly carried an eight year old habit into my new classroom. I was amused by how something as simple as holding my breath could have any influence on my life.
A good friend pointed out that it is not easy to notice the evolution of a habit without the passage of time. Improv heroically captures the shape of life in a 45 minute vignette.
Final Thoughts
Improv provided me a framework to practice self-acceptance, learn how to navigate emerging identities, and appreciate the many threads of life. I only took two out of five levels of improv, so there are many lessons left to be explored. Perhaps, there is a level that would have facilitated my original goal to be wittier.
insightful - thanks for sharing!