Two therapists, a program director, an occupational therapy assistant and a writer walk into a bar.
Opening to a joke? Nope. It’s something much bigger, scarier and more fun.
I tried something I’ve never done before, something I don’t know how to do, something with a high probability for failure and embarrassment.
Perhaps you’ve heard of it. It’s called improv.
Improv basically collects all your biggest fears (being seen, being unprepared, being judged, public humiliation) and focuses them in one place: on stage, in front of an audience.
Do I have acting experience? No.
Am I a comedian? No.
Am I whip-quick thinker? No.
Let me back up.
A Year to Live
For a while now, I’ve been knocking around my life feeling stifled, restless and a bit hollow. It’s feels like being inside with the shades drawn on a beautiful day and being unable to find your way outside.
This feeling prompted me to embark on a Year to Live experiment wherein I’m pretending I have a year to live. I got the idea from Stephen Levine and his book A Year to Live. I currently have 284 days to go. (If you’re interested in the journey, follow my Instagram account about it.)
"Isn’t that kind morbid?" people ask.
No more morbid than letting my life pass by and not fully living it.
Oddly, this countdown feels inspiring and motivating to me. Though my death is a certainty, my unknown death date tricks me into feeling like I have plenty of time to live the life I want.
I’ll do that someday, I say. But “someday” is always in the future. When I have more time, more money, more freedom, more guts.
I realized such a time will never come. I was constantly postponing my life. If I want more time and freedom and guts, it’s up to me to create them now. (And waiting for more money to live true…is that ever a good idea?)
The question that has become the heartbeat of my days: How would I live differently if I had only a year to live?
Something kind of crazy happens when the clock is ticking down your days. Excuses and delusion fall away. Fear riots and boils over. Your body – the one you rejected most of your life – becomes precious. You suddenly GET that you do not have unlimited time. Everything that happens might be the “last” time you experience it.
And apparently, you might do nutty things. Like improv.
The idea had been floating around for a bit – in a that would be fun someday kind of way. Then there was a party and conversation with an improvisor, followed by an invitation to get my feet wet.
All the usual excuses showed up. I don’t know how to do that. The practice time isn’t convenient for me. I can’t fit in one more thing.
But the Year to Live experiment showed up like a stern principle gathering my excuses like wayward children who’d acted out at lunch and deserved a talking to.
What if I made someday today?
Fear of Regret
I don’t know about you, but I have real fears about deathbed regret. It’s a valid fear, too, because I experience this all the time. Wishing I had showed up better - more presently, more authentically and with a more open heart – or that I had enjoyed parts of my life that are now over.
I have it most when it comes to parenting. I wish I’d spent less time worrying and managing and more time enjoying and allowing. Especially now that my kids are nearly grown.
(And I wish I could be 100% nicer to myself about it because this is also a mean pipe dream. Parenting requires one to keep up with the basic duties of managing a house and family like laundry, dishes, teeth cleanings and maintaining one’s sanity. Not to mention the mental stamina to constantly be teaching, guiding, limit-setting and supporting. I’m reminded of this every time parents of young children tell me they are really trying to enjoy it all but it’s also hard and the pressure to appreciate every moment makes it harder. Amen to that.)
Some of what I'm learning in this experiment is how to honor my life, exactly as it has been, and free myself of regret. It doesn't come easily to me.
Still, I don’t want to get to the end of my life only to realize I never let “someday” come. Or that I kept half of myself hidden because of fear. Or that I mistook my life for a giant to-do list rather than a grand playground.
If I want my life to have more space for me, it’s on me to make it.
The Year to Live experiment finds me sitting in the garden reading instead of folding laundry and making dinner. It finds me ignoring my to-list so I can paddle on the river.
It finds me as part of that hodgepodge group walking into bar to do an improv show as a complete novice.
Walking Through Fear
The venue was full and in every direction was the face of someone I love who was there to cheer me on. (Thank you to each and every one of you.)
The players of Queen City Improv absolutely had my back and knew just what to do with a newbie like me. They boosted me, bragged on me and bashed away my doubt. They are 31 flavors of awesome.
I talked too softly and often too fast. I messed up part of one game. I had to ask for help a few times.
I also was surprisingly not nervous. There were moments I really felt in flow. I think I did a cartwheel for reasons I can’t recall now. I smiled a ton. I felt proud of myself and grateful to this incredible troupe for giving me a chance.
Together, we were something greater than we ever could be alone.
And walking through my fear made me feel SO ALIVE.
Improv is all about getting out of your head and into flow. It’s about trusting your instincts and the first thing that comes to you. Ironically, it isn’t about trying to be funny but about being authentic and making real connections. Improv is entirely collaborative and about the synergy of the players. It’s about listening to each other, having each other’s backs and having FUN.
In other words, improv is about the things I care most about. And I didn’t even know that when I started. All I knew was that there was this terrifying thing I was drawn to.
Fear as a Misunderstood Guide
It can be very difficult to discern which fears to honor and which to ignore. I've come to realize most of my fear is a knee-jerk survival mechanism meant to keep me small to keep me safe. Don't try that. Dangerous unknowns!
So my approach to fear became a white-knuckled rebellion, me forcing myself to do what scared me. Fear won't stop me became my motto.
And so, fear became my nemesis. For years, we've been taking turns being the winner or the loser.
(I don't recommend this approach. While it can strengthen your resilience and amp up your bravery, forcing oneself is not a liberated or self-loving strategy. It also, ultimately, didn't work. My fear was just as strong and battling it was my only solution.)
What if I had it backwards? What if fear isn't just an obstacle to push past but is actually a neon sign pointing us in the direction we need to go?
What if what we most fear is what we most need to be our true self?
Our fear tells us a lot about ourselves and our deepest desires. Probably only 1% of our fear is that true in-the-moment actual threat. The other 99% is projection and what-if, an endless siren drowning out the rest of our lives.
If we hold that 99% with compassion, if we get curious about its roots and reasons, we can stop being ruled by it and instead gleam its hidden wisdom. If we befriend our fear, we can use it as a map to our own liberation.
This is, at its heart, a practice of both mindfulness and action. It’s attending to our fear as we might a wounded animal, with non-judgmental kindness. It’s also about facing fear in small, everyday ways so it doesn’t own us.
This is our choice to make.
Maybe the benefits of walking through fear are less about the specific steps we take and more about unlocking the energy that is trapped inside our fears.
Perhaps the real magic is in reclaiming the parts of ourselves that fear has stolen.
I don’t think I would have tried improv if not for this experiment. I would have shuttled the desire into the procrastination land of “someday” with hundreds of other things I plan to do when it’s more convenient and less intimidating.
We all have limited time. It's the one guarantee. So how can we live the lives we want right now, today?
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