Nothing Naturally

I am not really what I would consider an athlete.  I do like running, and sometimes, I can even be sort of good at it, but, in general, I am not naturally athletically bent.  If one were to ponder the similarities between sports and theatre, it could be reasonably concluded that improvisation is the most "athletic" of theatrical forms.  Also, improv is a bit terrifying to me, so that also leads me to believe that it must have some kind of parallel to sports.  How are they similar?  Both require immediate reaction as opposed to thoughtful response or rehearsed presentation.  When I played basketball in highschool...ah, the memories...one thing I hated about it was that we had these plays that we practiced but, really, in a game the ball was flying from person to person and the players were jumping and weaving and faking to the right and left so fast that my little brain had no idea what was going on!  Can we just slow down and calmly consider what the next move should be?!  That, apparently, is just not how sports work - unless you're a long-distance runner.  Bless the dear person who first thought that running from one point to another without having to do anything with a ball was sufficient to be called "sport". 

I'm a muller - I like to consider, ponder, chew on a topic before diving in or speaking up.  I love the lead up to a performance - the rehearsal, research, character breakdown, backstory, etc.  I tend to do quite a bit of rehearsing on my own outside of rehearsal - I rehearse to rehearse to perform.  So, "get up on stage and make it up as you go" is a wholly baffling concept to me.  Why?!  Why would I want to subject myself to sure discomfort and utter vulnerability?!  When I was in high school basketball, I managed to get into the HDUB Club - Humiliating Display of Unathletic Behavior - by almost making a basket for the other team.  I didn't quite achieve elite membership as I didn't actually make the basket for the other team - the referee blew the whistle and burst my bubble of delusion before that could happen, but membership in the HDUB Club on any level is rather exclusive.  But my point is - because I do have one - is that moment, when I got the ball and went driving down the court towards the wrong basket, I was reacting - not thinking, not pondering, not mulling - and look what happened.  

Despite my fear of improv, though, I do really love it.  Whatever kind of nuts that makes me, I don't know.  It's in the moment and honest and, if you can forget that you're an adult for two seconds, it's really fun!  I had to read a book in college for one of my acting classes called Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind by Shunryu Suzuki.  To be honest, I didn't know what my professor was thinking when he assigned this book - or maybe I didn't know what I was thinking when I tried to write a paper on it  - but it actually speaks to improv really well!  Here's a passage that I had underlined: 

"You should not have your own idea when you listen to someone.  Forget what you have in your mind and just listen to what he says.  To have nothing in your mind is naturalness."  

My first response is to say something childish about naturally having nothing in your mind - heehee - but, really, that's one thing I think is so great about improv...AND running.  Whoa!  Way to circle back!  Improv gives you the opportunity to have nothing else in your mind, listen to your scene partner, and simply respond naturally.  There's a little more to it than that, but from my very limited experience, that is a significant part of it.  Running also provides a respite from all the to-do's going on in your day.  I often feel like I'm thinking of 50 things at one time and trying to get them all right, but to be able to think of only one thing...it's, it's inconceivable!  It's an opportunity not to be missed.  And isn't it odd that something that makes me so uncomfortable also makes me so happy.  

I will continue to hone my game when it comes to improv...I look forward to it...basketball, I'm quite certain, will always be the hidden talent that never was and nevermore will be.