Imagine Robin Williams on a stage, empty but for a stool. He asks the audience for three objects. An orange, a scarf, and a pen are passed forward. For an opening line, someone calls out, “I can’t believe this is happening!” And Robin is off and running. The orange becomes a baby owl, the scarf a towel, the pen a cigarette as Robin transforms into a chain-smoking, Brooklyn matron, surprised while climbing into her bath. The audience howls.
Now say goodbye to dear Robin for a moment, and drop into my life last week. I’m in the middle of three online projects: belatedly learning to use social media, a discussion about republishing the soulful poetry of Evelyn Anglim, and finalizing plans to facilitate a summer solstice women’s retreat in June.
And my internet goes down…and remains so for three long days.
It was my very own Evening At The Improv. The elements given me were time pressure, lousy customer service from my internet provider, a get~it~done~now personality, and a host of alternate activities that would delight in my attention. Here was an opportunity to create, and it was mine to decide what it would be. Would I let my energy swirl into positive channels, or would I offer more angst and kvetching to a world already overflowing with both?
It’s always like that. Outer circumstances interact with temperament, talent, desire and need. Comedy may not be our goal, but creating something true and life~affirming ought to be. How can we best do that? By coming deeply and repeatedly to the still point at the center of it all. Regularly opening to that which endures provides the perspective and clarity from which good things are most likely to flow.
Life can be difficult, brutal even. On some days, keeping our head above water may be the best we can do. But as we are able, we can consciously and creatively choose what we give out. In each moment, we create ripples, ones that affect and are affected by the ripples of others. It’s one big wave pool. Or a Lifetime at the Improv.
Our conditions are individual~~health, career, family and relationship challenges. And they are universal~~creating a life of meaning. Whatever the particulars, they are the raw material given us. And just like Robin, it is ours to shape those components, to work with them in such a way that when the moment comes to exit the stage, we feel good about our time upon it.
So here’s to creative and uplifting responses. And perhaps with Robin in mind, we could also laugh along the way, and be gentle with ourselves when we fall flat on our face. After all, it’s the nature of the art, the art of becoming all we can be.
Leia
