Friday, February 3, 2017

'Yes and...'

The most central idea in improvisational comedy is, Yes and. In improv, when one performer says something, it is the other performer's job to say, "Yes, and..." In other words, the second performer should, with their actions and dialogue, accept whatever the first performer has said or done and build on it.

The instinct of a beginning improviser is to say, "No, but..." Each performer has their own ideas about how the scene should go, so it is a natural reaction to resist another performer's premise and try to interject one's own. The art of improv is submitting to the bigger picture and giving up one's own ideas about what should happen in order to better collaborate with others.

Do you have people in your life that "No, but.." you? Do you know how it feels to be corrected more than accepted? Judged more than affirmed? Can you think of a time when someone rejected your premise in order to interject their own?

It's much more enjoyable to interact with people who "Yes, and..." you. They accept whatever you bring and engage with grace, love and sometimes even excitement. They don't come to you with expectations of how you should be but affirm you as you are. I love "Yes, and..." people.

To me, grace looks like "Yes, and." This is how I want to love others and myself. I want to enter into someone else's experience and say with my words and actions, "You're so great just as you are." I want to bring an "and" as well, contributing my best to the relationship.

They say you can't love another until you truly love yourself. Recently my eyes have been open to how poorly I treat myself. A friend of mine told me, "It's hard to get anything done well when you have someone in your head being mean to you all day." Why is it so hard to love the one person we're closest to: ourselves? Do you treat yourself like you would treat a friend?

For me, this looks like saying, "Yes, and..." to my feelings, choices and experiences. I don't always make the best decisions, but I can always love myself through them. For example, I struggle with a mean sweet tooth. I get cravings all throughout the day. You know what doesn't make my cravings go away? Saying, "No, I can't have a craving right now. I'm trying to lose weight. Brain, stop thinking about this craving." It also doesn't work to say, "Don't eat a donut, don't eat a donut, don't eat a donut..." I've been surprised to find that saying yes to my craving helps to alleviate it. Not saying yes to eating what I'm craving, but simply acknowledging and accepting what's happening in my brain. "Yes, I'm having a craving for a break room donut. And I'm going to choose not to eat that right now." I accept with grace that a craving happened in my brain. I don't give myself a hard time, I don't hate myself for always wanting sugar, I don't try to wish my craving away. I simply accept it, and that acceptance for the existence of my craving is enough to take some of the power from it. My brain can move on to other things.

I also, "Yes, and..." my feelings. Feelings are just feelings. Why should I ever feel bad about feeling any certain way? Trying to fight my feelings is like trying to drown a beach ball. They pop back up with a vengeance. Instead, if I acknowledge and accept my feelings ("Ok, I'm feeling sad right now.") and try to add something to that realization ("Why am I feeling sad about this?"), I am able to freely process them, learn something, let myself experience the feeling for however long I need to, and move forward.

The silliest way I "Yes, and..." myself is simply by cheering myself on. I celebrate small victories like I would celebrate with a friend. I tell myself I'm killing it every once in a while. When I make a mistake, I take a deep breath, acknowledge what happened, apologize and do my best to correct it. Then I give myself a pep talk, which  mostly consists of convincing myself it's okay and I'm okay. I let myself off the hook and don't set unrealistically high standards and expectations of myself. I let myself be. I accept myself without judgement.

Having a "Yes, and..." attitude toward myself has helped me eradicate a lot of shame and anxiety from my life, and it's helped me be kinder and more accepting towards others. Doesn't everyone, deep down, just want to be said yes to?

How can you practice, "Yes, and..." with your family and friends? Lay down your premise and expectations, give up the way you want things, jump into another's experience, prioritize acceptance of another as they are and bring your best to contribute to the relationship.

My favorite person to "Yes, and..." is my favorite person in the world in general, my two year-old niece. Last week, after our family had breakfast for dinner and she ate pancakes with syrup and whipped cream, she was on a hyper rage across the house. Running, screaming, being silly... she couldn't focus on anything. It was the best thing to watch. I was in charge of getting her wiggly giggly self into pajamas. She was not on board. If I had forced my premise and told her with my serious voice and my serious eyebrows (the eyebrows work every time, man), "You NEED to put your pajamas on RIGHT NOW," she would have gotten grumpy and her hyper rampage would turn into just a rampage. I would have a toddler in jammies, but I would have ruined a moment.

I don't have any parenting experience, and many things I try with my niece work simply because I get to be the fun aunt and not a parent. I don't know if this stuff would work well in a regular parenting situation, and I know it can't always be happy, happy, fun time. I just know I don't want to be the person forcing my beautiful niece into a mold and shaming her when she doesn't fit. I want to be the person in her life that affirms her experience, meets her there, enjoys her existence, loves her well and has fun with her. I want her to know that with "tia" she is loved and accepted just as is, no matter what, and that nothing can make me not love her. I want to respond to her for her whole life with love and grace, so she knows she's forever okay.

So I didn't force the pajamas. I met her in her hyperness. I got silly. I accepted her premise, her version of reality at the moment, and jumped into it with her. I put the pajamas down for a second and made silly faces and silly noises with her. She asked me to lay down on the bed with her, so I did, and we took some selfies. I gave up my agenda and accepted hers. I enjoyed the fleeting time I have with this precious, adorable, fun human. Eventually, I picked the pajamas back up. Things have to get done sometime, silliness or not. But I made the pajamas dance and said, "Silly wiggle girl don't you want some dancing pajamas?" She said no to me in an English accent. What two year-old do you know that can do an English accent? Had I forced pajamas, I bet I would have gotten a tantrum, but instead I got to hear my niece do an accent. So I responded in my own accent, "Come now, we must put on our jammers." And she said no again, she said, with a smile in her adorable accent, "No, no, no." So I said it back with my smile and my accent, "No, no, no," and we said it louder and louder and laughed and laughed. And all the while, during our silly English-accent yelling battle, I was putting her in her pajamas. She was not resisting. And I had a clothed toddler, but we both enjoyed the process to the max.

"Yes, and..." works in more difficult situations as well. After a recent heartbreak, I had friends who tried to "No, but..." my grief. They offered their own solutions for and explanations of what I was experiencing without first accepting, understanding and jumping into where I was at. They didn't come to my level, they didn't embrace my experience, they skipped a step because they didn't start by saying yes to me and what I was feeling. I know they meant well, but the people who loved me well and gave me what I needed were those that said, "Yes, and..." to my grief. They accepted it. They sat in it with me.  They told me with their words and actions that I was okay as I was. They didn't bring expectations of me or measure me against their standards of how I should be feeling and acting. They let me be with love and grace. Even in a broken state with nothing much to give, they accepted me and offered their presence.

"Yes, and..." has also helped me survive the crazy political climate right now. In September and October, I was trying to convince people of my point of view. I was trying to change minds and force others to accept my opinions. After an awkward conversation with a good friend, I realized trying to strongarm others to my point of view would never be successful and would almost always be awkward or damaging to my relationships. I also realized I didn't fully understand my friends' opinions because I was always interjecting with my argument. I don't have to agree with people, but conversations are more productive when I start with acceptance rather than judgement, ask questions and try to understand someone's perspective before I offer my own. This has facilitated much more peaceful discussions with people I love and has helped us find more common ground.

My grandparents were in town recently and were talking about the new temple being built nearby. We have different religious views, but what good would it ever do to debate my grandparents on religion? I even could have just said, "Oh, nice" and let the conversation die. But I jumped into their experience of the world. I asked questions about the temple and had an interesting dialogue about what it meant to them. I told them I would like to visit the temple with them when it's finished, and they were beaming. Entering another's experience and affirming them I think is the best way to love somebody. I have always had an interesting relationship with my grandparents, but I know they feel loved and appreciated when I get excited about the things they are excited about.

The world needs more yeses and more yes-and-ers. The world needs more acceptance and grace, not more judgement and shame. The world needs more people who tell other people they're okay. Start with acceptance and cultivate grace. I bet you'll experience a tidal wave of love and joy in your experiences and relationships.

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