Author Archives: MaryAnn McKibben Dana

Rogue One’s Jyn Erso: Improviser

This post contains Rogue One spoilers.

People ask me how I got hooked on improv. Sometimes they mistakenly assume that as a pastor, my interest has something to do bringing more creativity to worship, or perhaps wanting to introduce more humor and lightness into a denomination that is often too somber and reserved.

Those things are important-they don’t call Presbyterians the frozen chosen for nothing-but that’s not what drives me. Nothing could be further from the truth, in fact.

My passion for improv actually stems from walking with individuals and families as they endured profound crises and heartbreaks. Navigating tumultuous waters requires us to hold our own plans lightly, to see life realistically as it unfolds, and to bring our best response to each moment, even if we can’t see several steps down the road. In other words, improv.

Health crises in particular are full of improvised moments. As I see it, and saw it, medical personnel are guided by a few simple questions:
What is the present reality we’re dealing with?
How do we respond to what this disease is handing us TODAY?
What is the best YES possible for our patient?

Even when the prognosis is poor, those questions don’t really change. What would “healing” look like in this situation? Healing doesn’t always mean a successful cure, sadly. Sometimes it means managing someone’s pain, or allowing them to die with dignity at home.

If you’ve seen the movie Rogue One, you’ve seen improv in action. Jyn Erso makes a resounding speech to the rebel council in trying to convince them to go after the plans for the Death Star. She’s ultimately unsuccessful at convincing them to take the risk. But I was more struck by her speech to the ragtag group of rebels who do take on the job. She says:

“We’ll take the next chance, and the next, until we win… or the chances are spent.”

It’s a brilliant summary of an improvised life. If we go into the unknown banking on success, we’ll either get too scared to start, or we’ll be so focused on the future that we’ll lose our eye for the present moment, which is essential to moving us forward. We must keep our vision trained on what’s in front of us-the next chance, the next conversation, the next move. Improvisers talk a lot about Yes-And as the foundation for good improv, but having a sharpened vision for what’s happening around you is at least as important.

And the ending! I asked in my post on Tuesday, how can a movie in which everyone dies be so uplifting? Well, part of that is seeing what they died for: Hope, in Leia’s words. And hope is so much more enduring than a little band of rebels. It’s also inspiring to see everyone do their part in making this stunning data-heist possible.

When we last see Jyn and Cassian, they know they are about to be consumed by the destructive incinerating power of the Death Star. Cassian says to Jyn, “Your father would have been proud of you,” and they embrace.

They know they are doomed. They know there’s no escape. Cassian didn’t need to say that to Jyn. But even in his last moment, there is still an opportunity to find a Yes. It’s a smaller Yes than we might have wanted for these heroic, fascinating characters. But it’s the best Yes possible in that moment.

Have you seen Rogue One? (I hope you have if you’re reading this!) What did you think?

Reminder: I’m doing another workbook/playbook for 2016/2017. Subscribe to my email newsletter to get this year’s copy, which should arrive next week.

Ten for Tuesday: Hope, Humanity, and Sweets

Monday Runday: Make The Trail Friendly (Again?)

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I’d take it over silence, though.

It’s surely no surprise that I’m not a fan of the slogan Make America Great Again. As a friend put it, “I’m gonna need you to define what you mean by ‘make,’ ‘America,’ ‘great,’ and ‘again.'”

Then I decided that I could co-opt the sentiment and make it mean what I think it should mean. What small concrete things can I do to make the world around me a little kinder, more just, and more beautiful?

My answer to that question will sometimes bear little resemblance to the sensibilities of the original author of “make America great again.” Oh well.

And large concrete things will also be needed. But we start where we start.

One small thing I’m trying to do (likely non-controversial, with strong bipartisan support) is to get out of the bubble of my own internal thoughts and actually greet people with whom I cross paths. In the past, I would always respond when greeted, letting them take the lead, but I would usually not initiate.

You know? It feels good to take the first step. (That’s something I’ve learned from improv too-if you find yourself wondering if you should jump in, that’s your sign to jump in.) We’re not talking long conversation-I respect people’s right not to engage-just a initiating hello, and short pleasantries if they pick it up. Here in Northern Virginia, we have a very diverse population, with people from all over the world, in addition to folks from both sides of the Mason-Dixon line. Acknowledging one another builds community, albeit in a small way. (That said, the cultural norms around greeting are fascinating, and something I’m only starting to learn more about. Here’s a fun article about it.)

My running group got into a conversation recently about different running routes and how people are friendlier on some than others. I found this bizarre! (And true.) Burke Lake Park is super friendly. I do a lot of running on the W&OD trail and it’s a mixed bag, with most people not even acknowledging a simple hello or “good morning.” (Notable exception: the guy who passed me last week while it was 20 degrees with 40 mph gusts. His zesty “Yeah! Running! Woohoo!” made the terrible cold much more bearable and brought a smile to my frozen face. And yes, I responded in kind, probably with a dorky “How awesome are we??”)

Yesterday morning some friends and I ran nine miles on the W&OD, and I decided to say “good morning” to every person we passed. (It’s also a good way to ensure you’re not going too fast-a simple “good morning” should be easy!) We got maybe a 35% response rate.

I’ll be honest, it’s kind of deflating to be unacknowledged. I wondered if I should just surrender to the culture of the W&OD.

This may seem like a small thing, but this particular trail has been problematic for women recently, with a series of harassing incidents and even an attempted sexual assault. (You may be shocked how common it is.) So when is a greeting not just a greeting? When I as a woman need you to acknowledge that I’m out there. When I want to acknowledge that I’ve seen you as well.

When we’re all in this together. However we may define “this.”

So I’m going to keep saying hello.

Hello.

“Something That Happened”: A Spiritual Micro-Practice

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Watch the video-the story is better coming from his own mouth, and only 90 seconds long. Plus you get some Miles Davis horn in the background. But in case you’re not in a place to play it:

Musician Herbie Hancock remembers a mortifying moment while playing onstage with jazz legend Miles Davis. The band was hot that night, he recalls, and Davis was in the middle of a solo in the song “So What.” Out of nowhere, Hancock played the wrong chord—it wasn’t just slightly off, it was horrifyingly wrong.

But to Hancock’s amazement, “Miles didn’t hear it as a mistake. He heard it as… something that happened. Just an event. …[It] was part of the reality of what was happening at that moment. And he dealt with it.” Davis reproduced Hancock’s chord and somehow incorporated it into the solo itself: “Since he didn’t hear it as a mistake, he felt it was his responsibility to find something that fit,” Hancock says.

“That taught me a very big lesson about not only music but about life.”

I shared this video on Facebook a couple of months ago, but I haven’t blogged about it, because it’s taken me awhile to take this to heart-and I’m still working on it. Robert can attest that I am trying!

Example: I can’t tell you how many times a child will spill something on a tablecloth that I literally put on the table mere hours before. (OK, adults too.) It’s not that we spill a lot. We don’t. It’s just some weird Murphy’s Law thing: fresh tablecloth, OOPS goes the milk.

I have taken to announcing in times like this:

THAT IS A THING THAT HAPPENED!

Or the shorthand:

AN EVENT!

I find the more dramatic the voice, the better.

It’s a nod to Herbie and to Miles, both of whom have much to teach me about improv and about life.

Try it!

Wednesday Words: On Race, Tribes and Voting

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I get in trouble sometimes for putting two things alongside one another to see how they speak to one another. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

I read this article this morning, “A pollster on the racial panic Obama’s presidency triggered — and what Democrats must do now.” I’m eager to delve into Cornell Belcher’s research to see how it holds up. (By the way, he’s not saying everyone who voted against Obama is a racist-his argument is much more nuanced than that, and race is one factor among many. I ask you to engage with what he is actually saying before you argue with it.)

I was especially interested in his critique of the old Democratic trope that people vote for Republicans “against their economic self-interest”:

It’s a disconnect that’s frustrating to me. They’re not voting against their economic interests; they are voting for their higher interests… The idea that you can disconnect white people from their group position and make pocketbook arguments to them void of the history of their group is folly.

…Who are we to say that they’re voting against their economic interests? If in fact you think you’re losing your country, that’s your higher interest, and how in the hell am I gonna prosper if [I believe] other people are taking my country?

The themes he lifts up reminded me of a passage I was reading last night from Steven Pressfield’s book on creativity, The War of Art. It’s not a book about politics, but this excerpt prompted me to reflect on how potent the Trump campaign turned out to be. I’ve tried to abridge it as much as possible:

Fundamentalism is the philosophy of the powerless, the conquered, the displaced and the dispossessed. Its spawning ground is the wreckage of political and military defeat, as Hebrew fundamentalism arose during the Babylonian captivity, as white Christian fundamentalism appeared in the American South during Reconstruction, as the notion of the Master Race evolved in Germany following World War I. In such desperate times, the vanquished race would perish without a doctrine that restored hope and pride.

What exactly is this despair? It is the despair of freedom. The dislocation and emasculation by the individual cut free from the familiar and comforting structures of the tribe and the clan, the village and the family.

It is the state of modern life.

The fundamentalist (or more accurately, the beleaguered individual who comes to embrace fundamentalism) cannot stand freedom. He cannot find his way into the future, so he retreats to the past. He returns in imagination to the glory days of his race and seeks to reconstitute both them and himself in their purer, more virtuous light. He gets back to basics. To fundamentals.

To making America great again?

Continuing to ponder all of this, and I welcome thoughtful engagement (and respectful disagreement) as I sort it out.

The Blue Room

MaryAnn McKibben Dana