I took my first improv class last night. It was a hoot.
I think anybody could do it. Maybe everybody should do it.
There are so many life applications I've already learned in class, like accepting (and even welcoming!!!) failure. When you fail it means you're trying something new and taking a risk. You create a space for vulnerability and you invite others to fail with you. It's also about taking the attention off of you and giving it to someone else. How can I make Shana look the best right now? It's about being present. When you're present, you're not planning. When you plan, it's you focusing on you, to protect you or give you the ego boost of having said the funniest thing. We lose opportunities to collaborate that way. Since you have to think fast, you're probably going to piggyback off of what's already been done (this is a good thing). You give it a new twist. You add to it. You morph it. All that plus commitment, and blammo! Hilarity ensues!
I'm only one deep, but I think I'm going to get into it. Good stuff.
I've always wanted to try it. Though it was one of the scarier things I've signed up for in the last few years, once I got there, it was a breeze.
I wonder how much I don't do because I fear the initial getting-used-to-it phase. How long do we stay at jobs we outgrow because of this? Relationships? Miss out on rock climbing and sailing, because we don't know how and it's "hard to learn"? We're not afraid of the new thing; we're just afraid of the beginning of the new thing—the going through puberty with the new thing.
Well folks, it's going to be awkward.
But after one class/month/trial, it's probably going to be worth it.