Not sure what to do next? Improvise.
The simple yet highly-effective way to cope with the unplanned and the unexpected. Life, basically.
When I wrote Do Improvise back in 2012, I knew some people would find it an interesting and useful book. I had a hunch that a few might become enthusiasts, even fans — and happily for me, I was right. But I never dreamed that some would carve these ideas into their flesh. Yet they did. I know of more than one person who has the model at the heart of this book (pictured above) permanently inscribed, in ink, on their own body, as a tattoo. Talk about putting skin in the game.
Such commitment is touching for me and, as it turns out, well placed. As one enthusiast put it: ‘The model is basically indestructible.’ Over ten years later the central ideas have stood the test of time.
I haven’t had any great revelations or a change of heart. I haven’t had to invent a new language, or tinker with the model to fit changing circumstances. In a way, I have nothing new to say — nothing that changes the basics, anyway. The ideas still stand, as simple and obvious as they were when I first wrote about them. They are as relevant as ever.
This is striking. It is not as if nothing has happened in the last ten years. We are reminded of how unruly life is on a daily basis. Ideas and diseases spread at breakneck pace in unpredictable ways; technologies take off or disappear; markets soar or crash; a single act turns yesterday’s hero into today’s villain; your cute little children metamorphose into irascible adolescents. Companies no longer change, they ‘pivot’ — a term that may well seem quaint itself by the time you read this: the language itself changes, reflecting and amplifying all the other changes.
This is not exceptional. It is normal. It is the way things are. Over the last ten years, something that has always been true has become yet more obvious — namely, how little is under our control, at every level of scale, from the intimate realms of our social and professional lives, all the way up to the global society and planetary ecosystems we are inextricably woven into. We do not determine the flow of events.
Old ideas
This is an old truth. As Heraclitus of Ephesus said, over two thousand years ago: ‘No man can step into the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he’s not the same man.’ Yet many of us feel discombobulated by the constant flux, as if immersed in a river in full flood, ‘not waving, but drowning’.
The principles of improvisation won’t stem that flood. They do not provide an answer, or pretend to. Indeed, they suggest that the search for definitive answers is at the root of the problem. What they provide instead is a way to learn to float and swim, to steer your way through turbulent waters, enjoying an increasing sense of skill and finesse as you do. To do ‘what you can, where you are, with what you have’ and to derive satisfaction, even joy and delight, from doing so.
They are not some feature of a management fad, or tied to a particular technology. They have more in common with ancient and lasting traditions, like stoicism or Zen Buddhism, than today’s trending topic. They are designed to enable us to deal with the unruly, messy, everyday reality that we try to ignore, but all have to deal with.
No wonder they haven’t changed.
The joy of uncertainty
In the last ten years my own understanding of these ideas and their relevance has evolved. They have taken me further than I could have imagined.
Improvisation is normally regarded as a last resort. It is what you do when all else fails. It is often regarded as a sign of failure. When I wrote this book I wanted to challenge that view. I had recently completed the building of our house in Spain and the experience had taught me that if you want to make anything, even a house, you need both planning and the ability to adapt creatively, i.e. improvise.
I would now go further. Uncertainty is not just an obstacle we need to navigate in order to get a result. It is the source of much of what is joyful, fulfilling and rewarding in life. I think we have things the wrong way round: what we imagine will bring us joy, creates much of our pain. And vice versa. (A hat tip to Margaret Heffernan is due here. Her talks and writing helped me understand my own thinking much better.)
The basic premise of our modern world is that we need to get somewhere else. According to this dominant narrative, once we do, everything will be fine. We need to get the kids into the right kindergarten (or school, or university); or get a new job, or a few more clients, or publish a book, or start another project. A big one for many people is to get to a position of ‘financial security’ (whatever that might be).
Whatever it is we are seeking, it always lies just over the horizon. We tell ourselves (and each other) that we are nearly there. That with a little more effort/money/ dedication/technology (delete or add your own as appropriate) we will soon arrive. We just need the right tool, or system, or hack, or app. Or a few more resources. But once we tick everything off and get on top of things, all will be well. Then we can be happy.
This logic is fantastical. As if we could reach the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, or had never heard the story of the Midas touch.
John Lennon was right when he sang, ‘life is what happens while you are making other plans’. It doesn’t happen somewhere else. It is what happens here, now. We forget, or ignore, that if we could plan our lives down to the last detail — that would be deathly. Surprise, delight, joy, a sense of agency and identity all depend upon there being uncertainty. Quite literally, we couldn’t do without it.
In that context, improvisation isn’t just a tool to get you through the tough times. It is a way to develop the capacity to lead a fuller life. It gives you practical resources that allow you not just to cope, but to revel in the glorious, nuanced, incomprehensible and inevitable complexity of life. To meet the messiness of your own life without foreboding, every moment of every day. To live where you are and enjoy what there is, not hanker after where you might be or what you had hoped for.
It is easy to lose sight of this. Not because we are stupid, or slow, but because the important lessons in life are those we need to learn over and over again. As yoga teacher Lucas Rockwood says, ‘Practise is everything.’
The path is made by walking
When I first wrote Do Improvise, my sons were children. They are young adults now. When I was their age, everything seemed simpler. You studied hard to get a good grade to get a good job. That was about it. There is simultaneously more ambiguity and more opportunity now.
As the Spanish poet Antonio Machado wrote: ‘The path is made by walking.’ The individuals of my sons’ generation will have no choice but to make their own path. As a society, we need a new definition of what it means to live a good life. We will have to renew our systems and institutions before we know what new form they might take.
While it is undoubtedly true that we face multiple, interconnected crises, there is nothing special or temporary about this. Every generation likes to think they are unique. Fumbling around in the dark is the way of things.
Learning to live with that asks something different of us. Which is where I think the practices of improvisation make a contribution. Like scaffolding, they help us hold ourselves and shape what we are building, while we do so. No less important, they enable us to stay sane and enjoy each other’s company along the way.
They are also simple and lasting, so if you like the look of them and want a handy reminder, you might even consider tattooing them onto your body.
Book excerpt from Do Improvise: Less push. More pause. Better results. A new approach to work (and life). Text copyright © 2022 Robert Poynton. New edition published by Do Books, 1st September 2022. Order from your local retailer or: Do Books (includes ebook) | Amazon.co.uk
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