Hello Divergents,

"And now it's coming right to your door," he said.

It took me a moment to realize what he meant, but not enough that I could tell he knew I wasn't catching his drift. Shortly thereafter, I laughed and realized, yes, improv was literally coming right to my door.

I had just been in my first ever creative studio outside my own home, when Jessie came over as I washed a dish in the communal kitchen just off the lobby of the coworking space. He approached from behind me where a group of roughly a half dozen people had gathering and with following instructions and taking turns boisterously doing said task.

"Hi Elle, I just realized our improv group is meeting right outside your office," Jess explained.

Based on my wiring, a certain percentage of me felt like he was going to tell me that rented the common space and could I keep my dishwashing down to not mess up their vibes. But my mind quickly countered that I belonged here and there was no need to feel bad or be apologetic.

"That's cool," I responded. "Do you meet here regularly?"

"Yeah Tuesdays. Sometimes we meet in my office."

"How long do you meet?"

"6-8. Will we be disturbing you?"

"Do you get rowdy?"

"Sometimes."

"Shouldn't be a problem. I'll just make sure to not record a podcast or anything like that at that time."

---

Later that night we intercepted each other again by the kitchen.

"How did it go?"

"It's good. It's a process. It's nerve-wracking to not know what you're going to do and say."

"Do you get tired?" I asked, knowing I would be from the energy output.

"I am tired, but it's also quite energizing."

"That makes sense."

"How long have you done this practice?"

"On and off for a few years."

"It reminds me of clown school. Are you familiar?"

"Somewhat."

"I did clown school while in L.A. a few years ago. It was the most embodied experience of my life."

I went on explaining how within the class there was a framework that gave us some familiarity to work from for the 3.5 hour class each week, but the challenge to the familiar was always changing. Consistent guidelines or themes were that we were to show up, see, and allow ourselves to be seen, react to our seeing of others, and react to others seeing of us. We were also perpetually to move our bodies in novel ways and always be vocalizing, but without words, and like the body movements - always changing to something new. We were turning off our inner critics, learning to fail, and learning to show up fully as ourselves. I was so tired afterwards including the whole next day.

---

I told Jess that I hadn't done improv, but it seemed related to my clowning experience and that I was open to trying it. Earlier in the year I had tried to go to an improv class twice and each time it failed to meet, but I had no way of knowing.

"It wasn't meant to be,” he offered.

"Yes, not at that time," I offered.

"And now it's right here at your door."

---

I'm living my life to align as best I can with what I want. I don't know if I can make Tuesdays from 6-8pm work, even if it does meet right outside my office door. But Jess is right. It's something I wanted and now it's right outside my door. 

There's a lot of that happening, like the woman at the open mic sharing two dates during her performance. I already felt enthralled by this woman and her whirlwind, warm, whimsical, welcoming energy when she explained that just this year she finished her book - 10 years in the making - on my birthday; and the song launching her into her next book came to her on my mother's birthday.

If I were a dog, you would have seen my ears pointed skyward. The numbers brought my brain inline with what my body and emotions were already signaling. I had only been in town 24 hours. It was my first open mic here and already a connection. And not just any connection, but a connection pulling all of me in. I was being invited to trust my intuition again.

---

In writing about improv, I've mistyped it repeatedly. Repeatedly, I've written improve. I write improve because I'm much more practiced at writing it than improv. 

How close is their spelling I realize! They must have similar root words. How could improv improve my life and way of relating to the world? How could it help me set my critic aside, express, emote, move, make noise? 

My voice matters. My art matters. But my critic can still strangle me at times, keeping me from flowing with what I am receiving and meant to release.

---

So improv has come right to my door. Thanks, Jess. Thanks, Great Love.

And intuition has told me to befriend that woman and be open to whatever magic wants to move. I sure do enjoy watching her move. 

Our lives are one big - YES, AND...

Rooting for you!

-esb