Do You Take a Widescreen View of Life?

"He lived his life as though it were a movie." - Peter Sarstedt

As you might gather from the photograph on the front page of the Daily Improviser blog, I’m a movie fan from way back. Today I thought I’d relate a (very) brief history of the movies – and show how that history tracks with my recent theme of stepping back and seeing the bigger picture of life.

The first commercial movie exhibition device was Thomas Edison’s kinetoscope, a large cabinet into which a patron peered through an eyepiece in order to view a 60-second film reel. A patron literally had to use tunnel vision to watch the show. Going to the movies thus began as a very insular affair - a brief, narrow view of a limited number of events, involving no narrative elaboration and no sense of a shared experience with other moviegoers.

Do you view your own life’s story via tunnel vision - hunched over, head down, peering through a narrow lens, taking in only a restricted slice of the whole, mostly oblivious to the experiences of others around you?

It soon became apparent, though, that projecting the movie onto a screen was a better method of exhibition. As film technology advanced, cinema pioneers such as the director D.W. Griffith began expanding the film-maker’s palette and syntax. Griffith and others began creating longer films that used visual narrative techniques such as flashbacks in time and intercutting of simultaneous stories (shades of the Harold!), which allowed richer avenues for creative expression.

Are you stuck in kinetoscope days? Do you restrict your view of life to a series of short film loops? Or do you use flashbacks (reflecting on your past), flashforwards (visualizing your possible future), and intercutting (making connections among the different threads of your experience) to put your present in context?

Originally, films were projected onto a screen that was nearly square. Since the 1950s, however, film technology has focused on expanding the audience’s physical field of view - sideways (using widescreen techniques such as Cinemascope and Cinerama), upward (using the IMAX technique, with screens reaching eight stories in height), and outward (using 3D techniques). The goal of these and other sensory enhancements is to “bring the audience into the picture” and provide a feeling of total immersion in the onscreen action.

Do you view life as though it were a movie – as a spectator in the back row of a small theater with a cramped screen? Or do you take a widescreen view of life, immersing yourself in your story, bringing yourself wholly into the picture?

Watch Your Attitude!

As I was doing some online research recently, I ran across the following criticism of the Strengths-Based Development movement:

I’m concerned that the strength movement allows executives to ignore negative behavior. Marshall Goldsmith’s [book] What Got You Here, Won’t Get You There makes a compelling case for developing weaknesses into strengths and one that appears to be a better tonic for the current economic crisis. That is, don’t we need more well-rounded leaders, as opposed to a few elites who are given permission to “flourish”?

In the name of taking an And Stance, I would address this comment as follows:

First, some background: In the book cited above, Marshall Goldsmith lists “Twenty Habits That Hold You Back.” Some of these habits include:

Making destructive comments: The needless sarcasm and cutting remarks that we think make us witty.

Starting with NO, BUT, HOWEVER: The overuse of these negative qualifiers which secretly say to everyone that I’m right and you’re wrong.

Negativity, or “Let me explain why that won’t work”: The need to share our negative thoughts even when we weren’t asked.

Not listening: The most passive-aggressive form of disrespect for colleagues.

As I’ve mentioned previously, the Strengths-Based Movement advocates using one’s precious development time to build up strengths rather than to fix weaknesses. So … does this mean that a rising leader who embodies one or more of Goldsmith’s habits shouldn’t work on these habits?

Of course she should! Because all of these habits are based on attitudes, not skills. In the context of Strengths-Based Development, I think it’s fair to say that “development” refers to improving your proficiency in applying a skill to the performance of a task. And, say Strengths advocates, if it’s a skill for which you don't have a basic talent, then an over-focus on trying to master the skill will be development time poorly spent.

However, I don’t believe the Strengths movement advocates neglecting your attitudes – especially the type of uniformly negative attitudes that comprise Goldsmith’s list of habits. The process of changing your “career-derailing” attitudes is something you can carry out continuously during the course of your daily activities. And it all starts with awareness – the kind that comes from feedback and coaching.

The View Above and Beyond

"Feeling all right / I don’t mind that everything’s not going the way I think it should / Living is good"

“Living Is Good,” by Wendy Waldman

Yesterday I introduced you to Isadora the Counting Cat and her rapid mastery of the Fibonacci Sequence. So what broader lessons can we learn from Izzy (besides the inadvisability of letting a cat prove beyond doubt that she’s smarter than you)?

I think these number-sequence puzzles are a great metaphor for the ways in which our lives play out – and for the types of attitudes and perspectives we would do well to maintain as we interpret the “success” or “failure” of the discrete events that make up our life stories.

Think about your own situation. As you react to the day-to-day circumstances of your life, do you set your gaze on the broad and long view? Or do you adopt a certain nearsightedness that only takes in – and draws conclusions from - a narrow scope of events?

If you miss a turn and have to take a detour through an unfamiliar area, does your attention home in on how late you’ll be for your appointment? Or do you make a mental note of points of interest along the new route and tuck away the information for later use?

What about that “perfect” job for which you interviewed – only to wind up as a very close second choice? Do you spend the rest of your life lamenting “what could have been”? Or do you focus instead on the path actually taken – and the benefits you experienced that wouldn’t have come your way had you gotten that job in Valhalla?

In these and similar situations: Can you take off the mental blinders that restrict your view only to the data points right in front of you? Can you stop looking at these events as flaws in the fabric of life and step back to see the elegance of the whole tapestry?

Isadora the Counting Cat: No Mistakes Here!

When I began talking about the topic of “mistakes” a few posts ago, I introduced you to Nora the Piano Cat. I’d now like you to meet … Isadora the Counting Cat!

OK, Izzy, show ‘em what you can do:

1, 2, 3, 5

Oops! Heh heh … er, sorry about that, folks. Um, Izzy, I think you left something out. Why not just pick up from there and keep going?

8,13,21,34,55

Well, there seems to be something happening here but I don’t know what it is – she was doing it fine this morning. Wait – what’s that, Izzy?

Google "Fibonacci."

OK, whatever you say.

Ah! I get it now. You were counting out a Fibonacci Sequence, in which each number in the chain is the sum of the prior two numbers. That’s pretty good for someone whose vocabulary a couple of days ago consisted of “meow.”

And what have we learned from this?

Hmm … well, I suppose I should’ve practiced what I was preaching a few days ago about weaving “mistakes” into the larger pattern. Instead of just glomming on to your first four numbers and finding an error, I ought to have stepped back, taken the long view, and let the whole pattern play itself out. Then I would’ve realized that what looked like a discontinuity in the short term was actually a seamless part of the whole cloth.

Brilliant, Chief - I'm impressed.

Thanks … I think. Somehow it seems like there’s an even bigger lesson lurking around here – one I should address in my post tomorrow.

Whatever keeps you off the streets, Chief. I'll stay tuned.

Back to the Drawing Board!

I recently ran across Susan Berkeley’s Improv-A-Mama blog, which – like the one you hold in your hands now – relates improv concepts to issues of Daily Life. The particular post I read cited a New York Times article that makes some intriguing observations about the topic of “mistakes,” the subject of one of my recent posts.

In the article, the author, Alina Tugend, remarks on our society’s basic ambivalence toward mistakes – the mixed message being, Learn from your mistakes, but don’t make them in the first place.

I was particularly struck by Tugend’s quoting of a management professor from Rutgers who makes a distinction between “intelligent failures” – mistakes from which we can learn – and “unintelligent failures” – mistakes we make (and often repeat) without taking away any lessons.

I think the distinction helps put a big “Yes And” on the ambivalence I noted above: YES, do make “intelligent mistakes” AND avoid the “unintelligent” kind.

But then again, there’s a paradox at work here: How can you know in advance what constitutes an inherently unintelligent mistake, that is, one that by its very nature precludes learning? After all, the whole concept of “weaving mistakes into the larger pattern” is based on the notion that it’s what you do after a mistake that determines whether it was really wrong – a “failure” – in the first place.

Well, in a perhaps futile effort to live up to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s observation about holding two opposed ideas in mind at the same time, I’m willing to live with the paradox for a while. But I think the Strengths-Based Development concept can help identify at least one example of an inherently unintelligent mistake.

I’m referring to the mistakes you make when you repeatedly try to work from your areas of weakness rather than from your areas of strength. If you put your strengths areas to the test – take risks, make some missteps, overreach either slightly or profoundly – you’re more likely to treat your errors as learning experiences. Working from strengths provides you with the basic motivation to push through the discomfort, pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and ask “How can I do it differently next time?”

By contrast, how much can you really learn if you keep engaging in activities that primarily involve the exercise of your weaknesses? If you continually try to push uphill against your weaknesses, you might (as Peter Drucker said) improve from incompetence to mediocrity – but what lessons have you really learned, what skills have you leveraged, that can propel you to excellence? And what is the cost to your psyche when you find yourself sprawled in the dust? At that point, you’re likely to say to yourself, “I knew I was no good at this – and I proved it again!”

Jimi Hendrix - Gypsy Wanderer to the Future

As we approach the precise moment-plus-40-years when Jimi Hendrix began performing his legendary set at Woodstock, I'd like to reflect on four lines from his opening song, "Message to Love" ... and marvel at the prescience with which he anticipated the Strengths-Based Development movement:

Find yourself first
And then your talent
Work hard in your mind
So you can come alive



(And as I said - next time, more on the topic of "mistakes"!)

Patterns from the Paderewski with Pads

What do you think it would sound like if you let your cat loose on a piano keyboard? Chaos, cacophony, noise? A random striking of keys with no purpose, no order?

If that's what you think, then listen to Nora:



You probably wouldn’t have suspected that such a seemingly disjointed tinkling could have been carrying a thread of structure and musicality. All it took was someone like Mindaugas Piecaitis to step back, take in the whole “performance,” and discover the patterns embedded in Nora’s little improvisation.

This video calls to mind a key tenet of improv: “Weave mistakes into the larger pattern.” If your onstage partner accidentally trips and falls during a scene, don’t say “oops!” and wait for him to scramble back up – drop down to the floor next to him and say “Great idea hiding behind these rocks!” In other words, do something to support him so that it doesn’t look like a “mistake” at all.

On a larger scale, the tenet underlies the whole improv form called The Harold, in which the performers first create brief unrelated scenes around a single audience-provided word and then spend the next thirty minutes interweaving the scenes until they all come together at the end. The incongruities between the opening scenes are really instances of “mistakes,” i.e., events that seem disjointed, out of place. The challenge is to find the common patterns in the apparently incongruous themes and blend them into a seamless whole.

The Daily Improviser can also apply the skill of weaving mistakes into the larger pattern. As Patricia Ryan Madson says in her book Improv Wisdom, the key to dealing with “mistakes” in daily life is not to berate yourself for having somehow failed but to ask “What comes next? What can I make of this?” Practicing the Circus Bow activity (described in an earlier post) can help remind the Daily Improviser to look outward rather than inward after a mistake and keep moving forward toward the goal.

It's been said that "The difference between success and failure can't be known in our lifetimes." Only by stepping back and taking the long, broad view can we really see the "larger patterns" into which mistakes can be woven - a theme upon which I'll expand next time.

FAMOUS DAILY IMPROVISERS: Ernie Anderson

Once upon a time, there was a young fellow named Ernie Anderson who wanted to become a performer and go into show business.

Only one problem: Ernie couldn’t memorize lines if his life depended on it.

So did Ernie see his inability to memorize lines as a fatal flaw in his aspirations – a total career derailer? Did he try to muscle his way through his weaknesses in a futile attempt to fix himself?

On the contrary. Instead, he drew on his intuitive understanding of the “playing to your strengths” concept by focusing on two performing contexts that didn’t depend on memorizing lines – improvisation and voice-over.

First, Ernie became a Cleveland icon as the hipster horror-movie host Ghoulardi, who ruled late-night television in Northeast Ohio from 1963 to 1966 and whose image and comic influence remain strong among generations of Clevelanders to this day. As Ghoulardi, Ernie took full advantage of the freewheeling make-it-up nature of local tv by improvising a stream-of-consciousness patter that poked fun at the very movies he hosted as well as anything he considered unhip – including local tv personalities and entire suburbs (“Paaar-ma!?”).

Ernie then moved on to L.A. and even greater personal success (though less visibility) as a voice-over legend, “The Voice of ABC TV,” whose rich tones and assured readings graced decades of program promos and commercials. If you grew up with television in the 70s and 80s, you may not know his name but you know his voice – as announcer for such shows as America’s Funniest Home Videos, Three’s Company, and most notably The Love Boat (or, in Ernie’s interpretation, “the Loooooove Boat”).

Ernie passed away in 1997 - but somehow I suspect he's keeping everyone entertained "ova dey."

(For more on the life and career of Ernie Anderson, I highly recommend the book Ghoulardi: Inside Cleveland TV's Wildest Ride, by Tom Feran.)

Boom Boom - Out Go the Lights!

In my previous post, I described the theories of the late traffic engineer Hans Monderman, “the guy who hated traffic signs.” Monderman believed that signs and other traffic-control devices serve to shield drivers from their own sense of their surroundings and make them less alert to sudden unfolding situations. Based on these ideas, Monderman created the concept of “shared spaces” in which drivers and pedestrians can coexist with a minimum of external controls.

You may be wondering what it would be like to navigate your way through a shared space. Well, as a friend of mine who read my Monderman post pointed out, you most likely have experienced such a situation.

Think of the last time you drove up to a busy intersection, only to find the traffic lights not working. How did you react? Did you feel as if your autopilot switch were suddenly flicked off, thrusting you into a state of increased awareness? Did you become more tuned in to the movement of other cars and even try to make eye contact with their drivers to make silent agreements about who would go next?

As my friend described her own broken-traffic-light experience:

“You can almost feel the atmosphere change when that happens, when people, all of us, have to actually perk up and ‘drive’ - watching for each other and the whole big-picture situation.”

From my own experience, I would characterize it as an impromptu dance, choreographed on the spot – another example of the Daily Improviser’s art!

Signs of the Times

"Sign, sign, everywhere a sign / Blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind"

"Signs," by The Five Man Electrical Band

Today I’d like to introduce you to Jake Straw, a man who, when confronted with the very idea of improv theater, is guaranteed to say:

What? Throw away the script? Have the actors interact with the audience and let them drive the scene? Give up control of the performance? That sounds like a recipe for … total chaos!

Thank goodness, Jake will say, that the real world is more controlled than the improv stage. I mean, what would happen if we got rid of signs, stoplights, curbs, medians, and other regulating devices from our city streets?

Hans Monderman’s answer to that question: Safer streets and a more livable city.

In his book Traffic, Tom Vanderbilt describes the legacy of Monderman (who died in 2008), a traffic engineer in the Netherlands who became known as “the guy who hated traffic signs.”

According to Monderman, most traffic signs are unnecessary, since they attempt to convey messages that drivers should be able to comprehend on their own (“Slippery When Wet,” “Children at Play,” “Deer Crossing”). Indeed, held Monderman, signs and other instruments of traffic control actually detract from the safety and livability of cities by: (1) Ceding the city to automobiles by separating people (i.e., pedestrians) from their surroundings and each other; (2) Lulling drivers into a false sense of security by providing the appearance of well-regulated “safe zones” for driving and reducing drivers’ alertness to road hazards (i.e., pedestrians); and (3) Creating roadside clutter and obstructions, making it less likely that drivers will see the dangers (e.g., pedestrians) being communicated by the signs.

Monderman’s radical solution: Remove most traffic signs and road markings, eliminate or minimize the barriers between cars and pedestrians, and have drivers and walkers coexist in a “shared space.” As the Wikipedia entry for “shared space” puts it:

"The reasoning behind the idea [of shared space] is that it will result in improved road safety by forcing users to negotiate their way through shared areas at appropriate speeds and with due consideration for the other users of the space, using simple rules like giving way to the right."

Monderman’s “shared space” concept strikes me as a perfect example of applying to the social world the improvisational imperative of giving up control. Performance improvisers must negotiate their way through a scene, not by following a script or stage directions, but by hyperfocusing on the cues being sent by their fellow players and responding accordingly in the moment. Similarly, Daily Improvisers in a shared space must remain alert to their environment and adjust their behavior to accommodate what they see and hear, rather than relying on the dictates of traffic signs.

How far can we extend this idea of a self-regulating shared space to other aspects of the social world? I think we’ve already seen an example of it in a concept I described earlier – Commander's Intent – in which the leader sets the overall goal and then, rather than trying to control the details of how to achieve it, stands back and lets the team negotiate the route on their own. Another example: the crowdsourcing phenomenon described by Jeff Howe in his book of the same name.

The shared space concept is also reflected in the Open Space conferencing method, in which participants collectively organize the conference themselves, in the moment. Open Space follows a few basic rules and structures but essentially leaves it to the participants to navigate their way through the day. (The Open Space method has been incorporated into the Applied Improvisation Network’s annual conferences almost since their inception - and will again be included in the 2009 AIN Conference, Nov 13-15 in Portland, OR.)

Hmm ... I suppose there's something happening here but you don't know what it is ... do you, Mr. Straw?