Living in Beauty

The Compassion of Friendship

Looking back at my childhood, I’m seeing some things for the first time. I was an awkward child. I don’t know the how or why of it. I was a very curious child, and took great pride in learning. But socially, I was always starved for friends, for acceptance, for belonging. At times, I was harshly ostracized and ridiculed. We all know how cruel children can be. And those formative experiences would stay with me, and haunt me, my entire life. Until recently.

In 2017, I started taking improv classes. My original intention was to start doing stand-up comedy. That was something that I had enjoyed watching my entire life, and I imagined that I could do it too. But I was unable to find stand up comedy classes near where I lived. But in my search I ran across improv comedy classes. Both improv and stand up depend on developing a powerful stage presence. So I figured that improv training would do for now on my way to stand up.

My first impressions of improv were pretty underwhelming. It annoyed me that the consistency of the shows was so hit or miss. And it seemed like sometimes you had to sit through a lot of schlock to enjoy a few good sets. This probably didn’t help my personal development in improv. It’s difficult to really throw yourself into something that you’re ambivalent about. It would take me a few years to really fall in love with improv. Not surprisingly, my performance of improv improved markedly after I fell in love with it.

“If freedom is doing what you love, then power is loving what you do.” — Improv Cowboy

I didn’t fall in love with improv at first. I fell in love with the people doing improv. This was a band of people playing in an art form that can be both extremely personal and extremely artificial. It affords the raw, brutal vulnerability of stand up, and the masked absurdity of theater. And the process of developing as an improviser rests squarely on you personally, how you live, how you interact with people, what you think of yourself. There’s a saying in improv circles that you meet yourself in improv. Apologies, I don’t know who to cite for that.

So improv classes, at least the good ones, become a group adventure, strangers-become-friends exploring ourselves with each other. So there’s this heady mixture of vulnerability, supportive friends and hilarity. You will never laugh as much as you do in a good improv class.

And it was this community of artists, this circle of friends and performers that created the cradle for me to be reborn. This was the incubator for my healing. Through the support and love given to me in hundreds of broken moments, I was able to bring closure and healing to wounds that had been open and oozing for 50 years.

I can’t guarantee that improv training will do for you what it did for me. Everything works a little bit for everyone. But nothing works completely for everyone. It was the triad of vulnerability, loving support and joy that kept me going and made it worthwhile. If you have anything that gives you those three things, pursue it with all your might.

“Wisdom is living in beauty.” — Improv Cowboy

To live in beauty is to see the wonder of the mundane, the naked pathos of our own hearts and the hearts of others, the sublime joy of each passing cosmic moment, the miracle in all that we see, and to vulnerably and authentically respond to all of that. That may sound overwhelming. But that’s only because you’re putting judgment on your response. You’re pitting yourself against self-imposed ideals and expectations. And that inner critic (See Disowning Our Inner Voice) is telling you that you’re incapable of a worthy response. You will have to let go of that (See Letting Go to Win Who You Are). You already are enough. You already belong. We are the children of stars (See Star Child). As you respond without the weight of significance, you’ll be that much closer to vulnerable and authentic, that much closer to present and aware.

And there is nothing like having good traveling companions. Wherever you go, whatever you do, be on the lookout for kindred souls. Do not wait for them to recognize you. Put yourself out there, invite them to your heart. We are all already traveling together on our journeys. And our journeys are far more similar than they are different. The separate bodies and minds are only a mirage, a distraction, from this collective journey.

Our traveling companions make the trip worthwhile. It’s never about the destination.

“We’re all just walking each other home.” — Ram Dass

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