My 29th Birthday: "Yes, and"

Sigh. It has been a day. I woke up with terrible coat-hanger pain - sharp pain across my shoulder blades and up through my neck. So fatigued. Hobbled to the couch and watched Jeopardy! with my eyes closed some of the time when things were too bright. Got a migraine. Listened to music. Listened to my church's worship service which was live-streamed on Facebook. (Thank you, church friends!) I was pretty sad I couldn't be with my community in general today, but especially because it's my birthday. Thankful they are praying for/with me!

My aunt and her significant other and my grandparents visited me and brought me brunch, which was a treat. They stayed a little over an hour, and while I was happy to see them, sitting up for the visit wiped me out. My muscles and joints are so fatigued that I can't be upright in any way for very long without support. I was telling my aunt last week, if I didn't have arm rests on my desk chair at work, I wouldn't be able to make it through the day. I am always having to prop myself up. After the visit today I needed to be strictly horizontal for at least a couple of hours. Hello, couch!

The most interesting part of my day, though, was a movie I watched in the afternoon. It's called Don't Think Twice, about a longstanding NYC improv troupe and some big changes they face. Having grown up in theatre classes and summer camps, the core beliefs and practices of this comical community were familiar to me, yet held new meaning in my present situation:

"Yes, and"

"Yes, and" means that whatever your scene partner creates and says to be real and true in your improv context, you "say yes" - you affirm it - and you add to it. For instance:

Person 1: Oh no, there's a snail on your face!
Person 2: Agh! Yes! And it's eating my eyes!
Person 3: Yes! They're out to blind us! And there's a whole infestation of them coming from those Spongebob merchandise vans!
Person 1: Yes! And I know how we can get rid of them. YO, GARY!
etc.

There are honestly almost no rules in improv except for "Yes, and." Partner and group dynamic are built upon this understanding, this promise, this trust that I will affirm what you do and I will not abandon what you are creating. Rather I will add to it, and take it to a new level, a higher expression, something only we can imagine, together.

These days, I feel like I am in an improv game with God. Or maybe it's just a handful of improv actor me's and God is the improv teacher or something. My natural reaction as a human when crappy things happen is to deny, withdraw, conceal. But God invites me to try "Yes, and":

I am in terrible pain.
Yes, and almost the entire day.
Yes, and I can't stand for very long.
Yes, and my world is changing.
Yes, and I'm scared.
Yes, and I am loved.
Yes, by God and multiple communities.
Yes, and I am not alone.
Yes, and I am blessed to have access to technology to be in contact with folks from all over, with and without chronic illness.
Yes, and I am using my gifts and my circumstances to create something new and bold and truthful to express the pain and fear and joys of my life.
Yes, and I find art. And music. And dance. And love. And grace. And God.
Yes, and
Yes, and
Yes, and

In the film, the actors have a ritual they perform before every show. Backstage, as the emcee begins to introduce the show, they tap each others' backs and look each other in the eye and say, "Got your back." "Got your back." "Got your back." They support one another. They believe in each other's vision and creativity and skill. And they will not leave one another hanging, or make one another look bad. Improv is commitment to the group, to the sketch. And I feel like God is constantly whispering to me, "Got your back." Things might get weird and bad but I am committed to you and to making meaning out of all this. Follow me.

The main sketch set-up the troupe begins a number of times throughout the movie is based on a question the emcee asks the audience: "Has anyone had a particularly hard day?" When they act out this difficult day, which may have been discouraging or even traumatic for the audience member who volunteered it, the actors take the day's events to a hyperbolic level, that by the end even the person who shared is laughing. Sometimes it takes that vulnerability of saying, hey, I had a really sucky day today, to find some slivers of hope or humor in it. That's what friends do. That's what God does. Reflection is about engaging with the past in a way that empowers us to imagine a braver tomorrow.

It's my birthday. It's been a hard day. But God and friends and family have got my back. And I've got yours too.

May my 29th year be one in which I proudly say, again and again, "Yes, and."

love
emma