A few nights ago I got up on stage in front of a bunch of people and performed with the improv group that I have been practicing with for a while now. And it was wonderful. There were certainly some jitters and a moment where I froze completely, but the beautiful thing about this whole team deal is a couple of my cohorts jumped into the scene before I even had a chance to do that -what gives me the right to be up on a stage- thing. Words won’t work when I try to make them show how much I appreciate playing with this conglomeration of weirdos that I very much adore.
Since I discovered how great it feels to create things I’ve mainly done so in the privacy of my little space, tapping into that place where I’m never sure quite what’s going to come out so if it’s something SUPERGROSS OR WEIRD I can just delete it burn it or at least tinker with it until it’s a bit more palatable.
But with improv you gotta go to that unknown place with other people. Way scarier [seemingly] than doing it on your own. But like sex, it might seem a little scary to do it with someone else at first but after you get over that hump, everything is not just ok it’s actually far beyond what you could have imagined. For a while I thought I wasn’t supposed to talk about sex, thought I needed to relate on some sort of profound truth instead, but what is more profound than sharing ourselves so completely with another person that we can each allow ourselves to lose track of where one ends and the other begins and then float off together in a bubble that is the same thing as infinity. I read some book once in which the author seemed upset with the fact that his only means of communing with the divine was through sex. Why take something amazing and undermine it with the fact that we haven’t yet figured out everything about this amazing thing just yet? Sex is a universal means of waking ourselves up for a moment but we’re all afraid to talk about it. Or is ashamed of it. Or we cheapen our own experience by thinking that we should be privy to some other means of contacting the infinite [yes we should work towards finding some other means in addition to the sex thing] but what the heck is wrong with fully giving ourselves over to the divinity that is the human orgasm.
Know something? It’s ok to express how much you care about things.
I’m working on that one. When I really care about a thing, I tend to downplay it in case other people don’t care about it as much as I do. Which is sort of ridiculous since when I hear a person talking about a thing they care about, I can’t help but care right along with them. “I don’t care” is nearly always a lie.
Part of our job here is to seek out that which lights a little spark inside of us and fan it to the point that anyone close enough will feel the heat.
It seems that acknowledging that I do in fact care about what other people think of me makes it easier to address the issues that have been caused by caring too much about what other people think of me. Which then reminds me that there’s nothing I need to hide and expressing what I believe to be the truth is never a bad idea. Yes, it’s scary. Sometimes we get scared away when someone shows us a part of ourselves that we haven’t learned to love yet. [I still run and hide on a daily basis.] We just need to be gentle with these things so as not to engage the escape pattern we’ve been rehearsing for so many years like a bunny practices running away over and over and over again. [Bunny bunny? Bunny bunny.]
The more we realize that everything beautiful and sparkly and amazing and weird and awkward and gross and evil and fantastic we see in everyone else is also in us, the easier this gets.