Improv and Beginner’s Mind
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“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities. In the expert’s mind there are few.”
- Shunryu Suzuki, a Zen priest
In choosing to relocate to a new city, I’ve made myself a beginner in many areas of my life: I’m a new New Yorker (versus an experienced Washingtonian); I’m starting a new blog (that would be this one); and I’m starting over in a brand new improv community, where no one knows me, and my years of experience in DC mean very little.
After performing with Washington Improv Theater (WIT) for five years (and teaching, and directing), I now need to take several classes at the Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB) before I’m even eligible to audition for one of their troupes. On one level, this is irksome – after all, I’m fattening UCB’s pockets to teach me basic skills I’ve known for years. On the other hand: UCB and WIT have very different styles, and learning a new theater’s improv “grammar” from the bottom up will only serve me well, should I choose to audition for them when the time comes. And, if the teachers are as great as some of my friends have said they are, then I’ll be energized even if the rest of the class is still trying to wrap their minds around “Yes, and” (one of improv’s basic principles).
Even if I’m bored out of my gourd, I have to think it’s good for me to remember what it feels like to be a beginner.
I remember when improv was a brand new toy – how liberated I felt in class each week, how happy I was to perform again after being offstage for years, how much it fed my spirit to play in the midst of an otherwise structured adult life. The more I learned about the craft, and the more I practiced it, the more nuanced my experience with improv became. After a show, my troupe-mates and I would analyze what worked and what didn’t, and what skills we needed to drill to make our performances stronger. Even as an audience member, I rarely simply enjoyed a show – if I liked it, I liked it because I admired the performers’ technical prowess, often comparing it to my own: “Dave has great physicality, that’s something I should work on”; or “They aren’t listening to each other, that’s something my group does well.”
This is only natural: in any area of life, our experience with something changes the more intimate it becomes. And while, over time, I stopped feeling the simple, unadulterated joy that I’d felt when improv was new, I began instead to feel the joy of being so close to my troupe-mates that they were truly a second family. The former is like the rush of first love – the latter, like the deeper sense of connection that a long-term relationship provides.
I wish I could have both (don’t you?). But to balance the pain of leaving my group behind, what I’m looking forward to, tomorrow, is the chance for improv to be new again. I’m curious to see how I’m different in a brand-new setting, surrounded by people who’ve never seen me perform, people who don’t know my track record or personality or tendencies. I won’t be able to rest on my experience, to use my credentials as a calling card – I’ll have to rely solely on how I perform tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.
I want the teachers to think I’m good. But I’m excited to have to earn that all over again – excited to feel the true, raw rush of improv, where you’re completely without a net, not even the net of familiar faces on stage and in the audience. As gratifying as it is to be at the end of a journey, how thrilling to realize that, as T.S. Eliot wrote, “To make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” In other words: the flush of first love, and the satisfaction of deep love, rotate through our lives in cycles, rather than following linearly, and permanently, one after the other.
What’s an area of your life where you consider yourself experienced, if not expert? Can you imagine what it might feel like to be a beginner again? What have you gained from experience – and what, if anything, have you lost? How might you begin a new journey?
How exhilarating to have a fresh start! I can relate to taking beginner classes as an experienced performer. Definitely a balance between boredom and intrigue. Great to have the opportunity to compare two schools of thought.
I definitely have hit a point in my career with certain technical tools or tasks (like gathering requirements from a client, or managing a technology selection process) where I would consider myself very experienced, verging on expert in some areas. But the quote in your piece really rings true – the more I know about some of these things, the less open I am to new ways of doing them. This is good in one sense – I can quickly and easily filter out a bad idea before it wastes my time and energy – but in another sense I definitely run the risk of filtering out a good idea simply because it’s not one I’ve come across before. This is a good reminder to keep an open mind, even about one’s own area of expertise.
What a great post, Amanda. I think it takes guts to be a beginner again, not to mention a lot of patience. I’m so looking forward to hear how the improv world of NYC unfolds for you, and can’t wait to see you at UCB! This post is such a helpful reminder as I start my yoga teacher training. Thank you.
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I love the way you’ve embraced this change. I’ve found myself in so many beginner situations lately…mostly those first steps out on faith. Now, I’m at a point where I have to step out again or risk losing the momentum of those first steps. I have hope that the beginnings and endings bring more than what I could ever have imagined or planned for myself.
Great post, too! This is exactly what I needed to read today.
One thing I enjoy the most about teaching early level WIT classes is the chance to play without the “pressure” of knowing all the things I am supposed to know. When playing with new students, just working on one new skill they’re learning, I get a chance to play with that toy to the exclusion of all the others I’m “supposed” to be using. It’s fun! And it’s also fun to see others “get it” and take ahold of that new toy and use it with some skill.
This makes me want to color in a coloring book.
New beginnings are exciting! I think it’s worthwhile to start anew. It’s funny, your post reminds me that whenever I’m feeling jaded, like I’ve run through something a million times before and I know it already, I can feel my mind closing. There’s comfort in familiarity but also a touch of laziness. I think the most original ideas come from an almost childlike, unschooled place within. A place that doesn’t concern itself with what has been said or done before, or whether an action is stupid or funny or embarrassing. Maybe the rub is knowing when to apply the experience you have to an idea to make it shine?
Everyone, thank you for your thoughtful comments! Kate, this resonates for me especially: “There’s comfort in familiarity but also a touch of laziness.” Riding that edge is tough but critical for me to feel energized, stimulated, engaged…
@DragonKat, I like the idea of releasing the pressure of knowing everything you’re supposed to know. Being surrounded by newbies, you can let yourself be a newbie too (there’s more joy in that, I think, than in being “the one who knows more”) – this week, I’m rediscovering some of the lessons I learned about improv long ago, in a way that makes them fresh for me.
And @Aisha, you remind me of the importance of being a true beginner – of pushing yourself into those vulnerable but critical places where you really are a “newbie,” even if you’re used to being an expert or someone w/ a lot of experience in other areas of life. If nothing else, I think this must be humbling, and deepen your empathy…
I could go on and on – but will just say thanks again, everyone, and this kind of exchange is just why I started another blog…I missed you :)
Interesting thoughts. I tend to think of this as a difference between where we all were in college (the world was our oyster…no idea what we’d be doing now) to today (As a teacher I am very much a standard worker…one of the tropes held up in political speeches as an example). However, looking at it from the point of view of where am I more expert and where am I less open…I feel that in my particular field (I don’t know how broadly this applies) the more open you are to new ideas, change etc. the more genuine and successful you will be. Anyone falling back on the same lesson plan year after year is going to become stale. Anyone accepting the system as it is and not seeking improvement is going to be come part of that system. This in mind…I’ve had to keep myself open to new ideas because the industry is full of examples of those who don’t. The problem for me is the tendency that those of us who take this point of view have of being disliked by those who don’t.
[...] writing on her blog, Christa in New York, and follow her on Twitter at @christanyc. See also: Improv and the Beginners Mind, something I wrote for a former blog soon after my 2009 move to New York. I was dealing with being [...]