From Dream to Dirty Vanilla Box

By Pam Victor

When the clouds parted 15 years ago and the Great Goddess of Improv locked me in her fierce tractor beam with songs of laughter and connection, I didn't know that I was just one of hundreds - maybe thousands - to have the epiphany that improv was my calling. I didn't know because almost none of them lived anywhere near me in Western Mass. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know. As I sat there for the first time in a dusty barn-like room with about 15 other slightly terrified people from all walks of life listening to our teacher explain the tenets of improv, the one and only thing I knew was that I was deeply and madly in love. With improv.

And all I wanted was more improv, more improv, more improv. A match was lit and it spread like wildfire in my soul. If you looked into my eyes, you would see little funny flames burning. If you cupped your hand like you would with a seashell, and listened to my chest, you would hear my heart beating "more improv, more improv, more improv." As luck would have it, there was only just one improv show in my little neck of the woods in Western Massachusetts, a terrific troupe called the Villa Jidiots who performed short form improv occasionally throughout the county and in the backroom of a Chinese restaurant once a month. Though, again luckily, they didn't seem to be interested in casting me in their show. Yes, it was luck. Though I thought the lack of improv scene was my albatross, it ended up being my awesomesauce. Just like improv promises, there are no mistakes. There are only opportunities.

But 15 years ago, there were no opportunities in sight. So I made my one. Improv teaches us to accept the moment without judgment and to move forward in positivity one small step at a time. So I begged some friends from that first ragtag class and founded an improv troupe. Thankfully, we had no idea what we were doing - so many opportunities to learn! - and our first gig was at my local library in my tiny dot of a town in Western Mass. We did a lot of libraries back then. Lots of fundraisers. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know. And still the Goddess held me in her tractor beam. More improv, more improv, more improv.

In 2012, I took another big leap of faith. I knit together a fragile web of childcare coverage - many thanks to my in-laws and my ever-supportive husband! - to allow me to spend five weeks in Chicago studying at the mecca of longform improv, iO Theater. I cried a lot in preparation for that trip because I felt like a fraud and a fake and a dilettante. Why was I abandoning my family to do this insane thing for no sensible reason? Here I was studying improv with people who were working for their shot on "Saturday Night Live," and I had few prospects in improv aside from my blind willingness to listen to the drumbeat of my passion. Turns out, that's enough. Improv guru Susan Messing says, "Being brave is being scared as shit but doing it anyway with the result of flying." I was scared as shit to go to Chicago. What's more, I didn't know why I was doing it, only to return to my little life raising my kids in Western Mass. But I tacked Susan Messing's words to my bulletin board, making it a vision board, and I spent five of the happiest weeks of my life in Chicago only to come back home to continue homeschooling and raising my kids with no prospects in improv. But still the drumbeat continued, More improv, more improv, more improv.

With no destination in sight, my thirst for improv knowledge lead, one silly step at a time, to an interview blog series where I asked my improv heroes every question I could think of about the art form. They thought I was a journalist, but really I was just cobbling together my own education from the confines of my life as a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom in woodsy Western Mass. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know. Because that blog series lead me to implausibly ask the two most well-respected improvisers in the world to let me write their book. (Experienced, I lacked. But steely ovaries? I had a pair, I guess.) And the Improv Goddess must have shined down her light because they answered, "Yes, and..."

That's when the dream turned into an experiment. After 10 years of homeschooling our son, we dropped him of at college. I suddenly was out a job and the house was quieter except for that drumbeat. More improv, more improv, more improv. In August 2014, I started the "Can I Make a Living Doing What I Love?" Experiment, a yearlong effort to make $16,000 - the poverty line for a family of two - through improvisation. In Western Massachusetts. Where there were a grand total of five performing improvisers. Improv teaches us to jump and then figure it out on the way down. So I jumped.

Soon I was the one teaching a class of 15 slightly terrified people from all walks of life. I had no idea what I was doing. So I did what improv trained me to do, I disregarded the voices of unhelpful judgment and I figured it out one step at a time. There were obstacles that turned into opportunities along the way, and I fell back on the improv tenets: Move forward with positivity. Pay attention to the moment that was happening - as opposed to what I wished or feared was happening - and follow where it was taking me. One class of students turned into two, which turned into more improv and more improv and more improv.

In 2015, I officially founded Happier Valley Comedy, Inc, a nonprofit with a mission to bring more laughter, joy, and ease to Western Massachusetts (and the world.) Much to my surprise and, if we're being honest here, chagrin, I found myself running a company despite the fact that I didn't know how to run a company. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know as I built the little improvised house as I lived in it. One metaphorical brick at a time, I built the wing of a improv training program. One metaphorical brick at a time, the wing of the shows. One metaphorical brick at a time, the wings of the professional and personal development programs. There is so much I didn't know back then. I am so grateful for all I didn't know. It allowed me to open myself to ask for help and guidance, which lead to forming a leadership team and community of the most supportive, enthusiastic humans on earth ... almost all of whom love a good poop joke.

Yesterday, on May 22, 2018, my business partner Scott Braidman and I signed a lease on a 1,300 square foot space on Route 9 in Hadley, Massachusetts. (The bricks aren't metaphors anymore!) Right now, it's what they call a dirty "vanilla box," an empty room devoid of anything but walls and toilets. But when we look at it, we see the first ever improv theater and training center in Western Massachusetts.

"I thought this was going to feel more celebratory," said Scott as we clinked our turmeric lattes together in Pulse Cafe, the vegan restaurant across the street, after signing the lease. We both looked at each other wide-eyed and scared as shit. There is so much we don't know about building a theater. We don't even know what we don't know. "We are going to learn so much," said Scott, which is improv-speak for "Holy crap. We are going to make so many mistakes." We are trying to be grateful for all we don't know.

Gulp.

Trust.

Jump.

Pam celebrating in the dirty vanilla box
(May 22, 2018)

Figure it out.

Fly.

Rinse.

Repeat.

The only thing we can do now is to move forward, step by step, as if we were in an improv scene. First notice without judgment to how it feels and accept that reality. (It's scary! Yay! We have no idea what's going to happen! Yay!) Then we need to listen to what's really happening in the moment - rather than what we hope or fear is happening - and serve the needs of those moments one small step at a time.

The first thing we're going to need is a broom.

----

Pam Victor is the founder and Head of Happiness - which is what they call the President - of Happier Valley Comedy where she runs the Through Laughter program for professional and personal growth and a multi-level improv comedy school as well as producing regular improv shows in Western Massachusetts. Pam is the author of “Baj and the Word Launcher: A Space-Aged Asperger Adventure in Communication” and, along with legendary improvisers TJ Jagodowski and Dave Pasquesi, co-author of “Improvisation at the Speed of Life: The TJ & Dave Book.” Pam is a nice person. She likes you already.

On August 12, Pam will be facilitating "F*ck Your Fear & Trust Your Truth," a personal growth workshop for all who identify as women. This three-hour workshop takes place at the Happier Valley Comedy Theater at 1 Mill Valley Road in Hadley, Massachusetts, the first-ever improv theater in Western Massachusetts. For more about that workshop and more, check out. www.happiervalley.com.

“That Just Happened” (Or “Moving Forward from a Clusterfuck)”

by Pam Victor

You know that burning, sinking moment that happens after something potentially horrible just occurred? We feel our fight-or-flight response kick in, our blood pressure ramps up into overdrive, those gnarly chemicals that make us feel at once hot and cold as the reptilian brain takes over and rational thought goes bye-bye. Everything in our bodies and minds is screaming “Bad! Bad! Bad!” And even after the initial shock begins to fade, we may still be eager to kick ass and take names even as we’re wanting to curl up in a ball and cry, or else hide from our fear with the numbing balm of social media, wine, and chocolate. 

Yeah, that feeling.

What’s next? How are we supposed to proceed from there if it feels like half the world is going low and rather than get high, we want to “go high”?

“Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” 

- Buddha

As always when I’m lost and bereft, I look to improvisation for guidance. Ever helpful, improvisation offers two useful directions in this situation. The first is to seek the practice of Non-judgment, which to me means accepting the reality of the moment as it is, rather than how we wish it would be. The second useful direction is to practice the kissin' cousin muscles of Agreement and Acceptance, which I define as the act of moving forward together given the present reality.

Improvisers get to strengthen the muscles of Non-judgment, Acceptance, and Agreement quite often in our scenework. We’re doing a scene and our scene partner comes in and “fucks it up” by saying something we might consider annoying or the result of poor listening or that takes the scene where we didn’t want to go. You know that feeling, I’m sure.  You initiate a scene, and someone comes on and responds in a way that makes you have this feeling of disappointment. Maybe you even sigh. Maybe you feel a wave of anger or annoyance. It happens. It will happen again. Now what? How to continue the scene while still seeking ease and joy?

That’s when I evoke the story I’ve taken to calling “The Parable of Dave Razowsky’s Foot.” I call it a parable because I’ve told the story so many times in my own way and according to my own interpretation that it’s no doubt ceased to be the story I heard improv teach extraordinaire Dave Razowsky tell on a podcast years ago. That’s my way of saying that the story I’m about to tell you now is my own version and is not the way it really went down. Here is how I tell “The Parable of Dave Razowksy’s Foot:”

Once upon a time, Dave Razowsky was at a wedding reception dancing with a woman. In my imagination, the woman is quite large, like an Amazon in pink chiffon. So excited was this lovely Amazon at the prospect of dancing with Dave Razowsky, that she placed her two meaty paws upon his shoulders in delight, and slammed him to the ground in mislaid enthusiasm. Unaware of her impending Amazonian fervor, Dave Razowsky’s foot found itself at an angle, so when it had its unhappy encounter with the hard ground, Dave Razowsky’s foot ended up breaking very badly. 

And in that moment, Dave Razowksy says he thought, “That just happened.”

Not “Holy fuck, you Amazon she-bitch, what have you done?! You fucking broke my fucking foot!”

Not even, “Aaaaaaaah! My foot! It’s broken! Ooooooowwwww!”

Merely, “That just happened.”

The foot breaking was an event. The “holy fuck!” is the judgment. And according to the parable, Dave Razowsky was able to remain in the event. On one hand, that event in my parable had many bad outcomes: Dave Razowsky was unable to work for quite some time. He couldn’t do his shopping.  He was stuck at home for 6-8 weeks. But the event also had positive outcomes: Dave Razowksy had time for projects he wouldn’t have had time for otherwise. He had opportunities to sit and be present and think and imagine, which lead to more opportunities for productive growth. He found out who his real friends were, the ones he could count on, the ones who actually did his shopping for him and took him to the foot bone doctor and sat around with him and made him laugh while his foot healed. (Again, these outcomes are for parable purposes only and may not be what actually happened in real life to the real Dave Razowsky, who is a swell guy with a fully functioning foot.)

The Real Dave Razowsky

“That just happened.” Which means accepting the reality of the moment in a place of non-judgment. The Amazon slammed him to the ground and his foot was broken. Your scene partner just came in and responded to your offer. The election did not turn out the way I had fervently hoped. Now what? 

First, the improv guideposts of Non-Judgment, Agreement, and Acceptance help us practice accepting the present reality as it is rather than how we wish it would be. No amount of denial, bargaining, chest-beating would unbreak the foot, change the offer, alter the election. It happened.

Personally, I can’t always jump straight to “That just happened.” Because I am a paint-still-drying, evolving human, I find that I often have to go through a state of negative emotion before I can get to accepting the shit sandwich of reality. (Yes, “shit sandwich” is a judgment. See? “The just happened” is a practice. Sometimes, I get there. Sometimes I don’t.) Usually, I have to feel sad/mad/disappointment/grief for a proportional period of time before I can claw my way to the judgment-free acceptance of “That just happened.” Still, I can use this parable as an intention to move towards because accepting the reality of the moment is necessary in order to find the most ease and joy of reality.

Once acceptance happens, we can move forward. That’s the next step: Given the reality of what just happened, how can we now move forward together?

I don’t have to deny that I’m unhappy about the current reality, but improvisation demands us to accept it and move forward together. Inspired by a Del Close quote, I describe the act of building a scene with this full-hearted acceptance as being like building a life raft together while we’re in it.

“A Harold is like building a 747 in mid-flight.” – Del Close

My litmus test of Agreement is “Does this offer add to our life raft?” If it does, great. If not, that move probably wasn’t an act of agreement and wasn’t helpful in moving us forward together. Ideally, we’re in a scene together constantly adding little pieces to our life raft as we glide easefully down the stream. If all goes well, by the time we leave the stage, the ground under us is solid, steady, and leak-free. 

Applying this offstage, when we find ourselves in the clusterfuck of life, we may find it most helpful to get to a place of non-judgment acceptance – That just happened – where we cease resisting reality, so we can then figure out how we can move forward together. How can we build a life raft together with the maximum joy and ease? That means, I can’t argue with my  “scene partners” in life about what they’re bringing to the moment. I have to figure out how I can build onto what they’re bringing to the moment so hopefully we don’t all die in a fiery blaze of shitfire. 

That just happened.

Now how can we move forward together?

“When it is obvious that the goals cannot be reached, don't adjust the goals. Adjust the action steps.”- Confucius

I don’t claim to yet have the answer for you, but I hope you find it useful to ask the question. Then pay attention like a ninja-detective, so you don’t miss the next step when it appears.

* * *

A Note to My Children on November 9, 2016

Yeah, well, this sucks. On behalf of the world, I apologize to you and your generation. Dad and I and our friends worked hard to avoid this reality, but the world has failed you at this moment, there is no doubt. And it's scary and upsetting and it feels like anger would feel better than fear. Though it's okay to feel anger and fear, I urge you to eventually channel your anger and fear into hope, love, and action.

Humans are strong, resilient creatures. I keep thinking about how scary it must have been for the generation before mine. When they were your age, in the mid- to late-60s, their friends were being drafted into the military to fight in a senseless war. There were protests in the street. Segregation and sexism were blatant realities. Heroes were being murdered - JFK, Robert Kennedy, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King - and it must have felt scary and hopeless, yet humans overcame.

I've also been thinking about how scary it must have been during World War 2. London was being bombed. Paris was occupied by Nazis. Millions of people were being systematically murdered. It must have felt hopeless, yet somehow humans overcame.

Over and over, there have been in scary, hopeless times in our history. And yet humans managed to somehow overcome.

I'm not going to sugarcoat it. We are in a dark time. But we will overcome this too. History is a swinging pendulum. We are in an extreme. It will swing back eventually with some hard work and hope.

You are both in important fields for our times: art and education. Music and theater are vehicles for spreading messages of love, hope, resistance, and change. Education is the antidote to hate and ignorance. Education is hugely important for moving our world out of darkness. Once we come out of our grief, let's all focus on our art and education to heal the world. I am so proud of you both.

So, the thing is, the next days and weeks are going to suck. I need you both to take care of yourselves, mentally, spiritually, and physically. I strongly strongly strongly suggest you STAY OFF SOCIAL MEDIA. It is not going to be helpful right now. Though it feels like we want to "be with our friends," social media is not a healthy place right now. In the future, social media will be useful as a way of banding people together to spread messages of love, hope, change, and education; but right now, it's full of fear. And it's all conjecture. Nobody knows how things are going to turn out. (Read that again. It's important.) They're just spinning out their worst fears. Please try to go on a digital diet for a week. Believe it or not, that's what I'm doing as much as possible, unless I have to promote shows. I'm off Facebook for a while because I know it's not going to be a healthy place for me and it will be too upsetting to see my friends spinning out their worst fears and present pain. If I can do it, you can too.

If you listen to the news, be sure to remind yourself of the difference between fact and beliefs. Concentrate on what is actually happening. What is a fact and what is an opinion? Put the beliefs and opinions in perspective. They're not reality; they're only ideas. Beliefs are not necessarily true or what's going to happen in the future. They are ideas, and ideas change. Even reality changes.

My plan is to concentrate on the voices of Good in the world. Find the leaders you trust in, both world and local leaders. Listen to them. Stand with them. This week, we are going to grieve. Next week, the work begins. 

By the same token, make sure to take breaks from the work and from unhelpful people in your life. Though these are dramatic days, kids your age tend to be extremely dramatic because you all feel things deeply. That's not a bad thing. In fact, that's important. But over the next week or so if things are feeling too intense at school, take a break. Sierra, I will come pick you up today if you need me too. Jake, Aunt Col will pick you up if you need a little break tonight or one or two evenings (or more) this week...she is very wise and will know what to say to help you maintain perspective. If you need to come home for a while, that's an option too. Otherwise, we'll see you in a couple weeks.

Please talk to dad and me if you are feeling worried. If you don't want to talk to us, it's important to reach out for help when you need it. You both have a fantastic, powerful tribe of adults - teachers, our friends, family - who love you and would drop everything to be of service to you. All you have to do is ask.

I love you both.

Mom

P.S. If you want to share this note with your friends in the event that it might be helpful, please do.

Pam Victor is an improv comedian, author, teacher, consultant, and nice person. She is the founder and Head of Happiness of Happier Valley Comedy, the epicenter of improv in Western Mass, where Pam teaches The Zen of Improv to the best students in the world as well as bringing the power of improvisation to the workplace in her "Through Laughter" program.  TJ Jagodowski,  David Pasquesi, and Pam are the co-authors of "Improvisation at the Speed of Life: The TJ and Dave Book."   She lives online at www.pamvictor.com.

Unless you're a meanie, Pam would probably like you.

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For the Eager Beavers (More About the Journey)

by Pam Victor