Getting on the Floor to Die and Other Improvisations

When I worked in home hospice, we held a small memorial service every Wednesday after our staffing meeting.  We dimmed the lights, we lit a candle, we said a prayer, and we had the opportunity to share memories or feelings about our patients who died in the previous week.  Recently, I stumbled upon a story from a young nurse that I'd written down in my journal from 2008.  This nurse talked about a very poor man, her patient, during the memorial one week.  He became very restless in the last couple of days of his life - which many people do.  Some people hallucinate or become agitated.  Sometimes we think this is due to physical pain, sometimes we think this is due to emotional pain.  But this man, in his restlessness, kept getting on the floor.  His sister and her family were caring for him and they felt incredibly frusturated with what seemed to them like his 'misbehavior.'  Almost like a toddler who won't stay in bed.  Almost like, "why, after all we are doing for you, won't you stay put like a good boy?"  The nurse pondered it over those couple of days - something about this man touched her. 

After two days of him awkwardly and half-comatose finding his way somehow, to the floor, the nurse had a burst of intuition.  "This man wants to die on the floor," she thought.  So when she was next there and he was on the floor, she got on the floor with him.  And she held him for an hour; put her arms around him right there on the floor.  And he died.  She was right -  he wanted to be on the floor to die and she was able to hear the message he couldn't speak.  To look at the evidence before her and honor it.  You're not supposed to die on the floor - maybe that seems to lack dignity.  But in my time in hospice, this is one of the most loving stories, one of the most diginifed stories, I heard.

Improvisation is what comes to mind. It reminds me of a This American Life segment from 2014 https://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/532/magic-words?act=2  A woman and her husband (who are comedic actors by profession) are caregivers for the wife's mother, who has Alzheimer's.  The mother says things like, "Look at those monkeys in the backyard."  And instead of saying "there are no monkeys in the backyard," the couple learned to use their acting/improv skills with her.  The husband replies, "Pretty early in the season for monkeys."   He says to her, "If you see any more we'll try to catch one and bring it in."  She replies, "you can't bring monkeys in the house."  "Well," he says, "You can if you put pants on them."  She laughs.   Improvising vastly improved her quality of life.  And theirs.  They didn't argue and get in power struggles with her.  She could even access her sense of humor.

In improv comedy, there are a couple of rules: 1) Step into their world (your fellow actor) and 2) your only answer is "yes, and...". 

Lots of things happen in life that aren't 'supposed' to happen and aren't part of our life script.   When life deviates from our play, sometimes we step out of reality with reality.  For example, people aren't supposed to die on the floor.  For another example, I was not supposed to get divorced.  But supposed to is not the same as reality.  Now, I have to improvise.  I got divorced.  Yes, and... 

When we say 'no, but' to life, we are usually in for a period of deep frustration and even grief.  Here are some other examples I see of times we tend to say 'no, but..'  rather than, "yes, and...": 
when our child is having social or educational problems at school,
when our adult child makes a decision we disagree with,
when our brother owes us $200 from Christmas,
when our sister gets drunk and drives home from the work party,
when someone we love gets diagnosed with cancer.

How would our reactions change and even be more helpful if we said, "Yes, and" to the reality of those situations?  Would we say and think differently?  I think we would.  I think our power struggles would cease.  I think we feel less like we were beating our heads against the wall.

As I'm writing this, I'm even thinking that improvising applies to good things that present themselves to us, that we try for various reasons to deny - things that feel like a risk - a job change, a move, falling in love.  We are often overly and uselessly confused giving life a 'no, but,'  when the evidence points us to 'yes, and...' 

Look, I know life is complex and the signs aren't always as clear as the man who kept getting on the floor to die.  Sometimes we need a helper-  a friend, a nurse, a counselor, a sister, to help us look at the evidence of our lives and understand where to find the Yes, and...  This is when we can ask for help - when we can literally ask, or write down our thoughts, or pray or meditate and to our best to enter the world as it presents itself to us.  It's do-able - we just have to pay attention and let go of our 'supposed to's'.

And finally, it's important to remember, that if you bring the monkey in the house, it's much better for everybody if he's wearing pants. 

For Perfectionists Eyes Only and Some Sexy Advice from Nick Cage

If you are not a perfectionist, do not read any further.  For the love of God, don't read any further.

If you are a perfectionist (and you know who you are), please continue.

Recently someone commented to me about my divorce.  "I had no idea anything was wrong - everything looked so perfect from the outside."  To me, this conjurs disturbing images of Annette Bening having a meltdown in American Beauty.  But, I can kind of see what that person was saying.   We all know we fall into making false assumptions about other people's happiness, beauty and general well-being because of image -  because of Facebook, other social media and even holiday cards - we see everyone's pictures and they all look so insanely happy, well-rounded and adjusted. 

I actually don't think I fall into the category of perfectionist who wants to create a perfect image, because the way I am perceived by others has not been overly important to me (at least since I was about 19 or 20).  But, I have been looking at other ways in which I might be a perfectionist.  Perhaps a perfectionist on a deeper level.  And a level that might be more damaging, if I don't take the opportunity to change.  Here's what I mean:   For me, it's never been so much about what other people think - I am very comfortable for people to know that I have struggles, my family is quirky, and I am probably more eccentric than I even know. 

The way I have been a perfectionist has been in my spiritual life.  I have always had the idea that I should the best human being I can be.  In Into The Woods, one of Sondheim's lyrics is, "Nice is not the same as good."  I get that. I've always had a weird relationship with being good.  Sometimes I bristle when other people tell me I'm good or think I'm good because of the work I do, but I've always wanted to be good in the eyes, for lack of a better word, in the eyes of God.  And also myself.    Maybe I thought, on some unconscious level, that it is our life's purpose to be spiritually GOOD:  To love unconditionally, to look for the best in others, to forgive easily, to see our own shortcomings and ways we may have hurt others and own up to those and change.  Somehow I think I conflated two things though - trying to be good and trying to be perfect.  Underneath my wanting to simply have integrity with myself, I think I wanted or expected myself to be super-human in my emotional/spiritual evolution.  I think this has caused me to scrutinize myself and always ask, "couldn't I be a better person?"  To hold my imperfections with a tight fist, rather than a loose hand.  To, at least inwardly, take myself seriously.  To be too cautious and too hard on myself. 

Guess what?  I am changing.  I am broadening my approach to this human life.  I'm thinking and feeling that loving perfectly, or having enough hubris to think you can perfect your spiritual self, maybe is ugly in it's own way.   Maybe loving imperfectly and allowing messiness is actually what it means to be a 'good' human.  I love this clip from Moonstruck (one of the best all time and most romantic movies ever): 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7WkN_gPNaM  I also want to add - Who wouldn't go upstairs with this guy?!? 

As Nick Cage says - 'Snowflakes are perfect.  Stars are perfect.  We are not here to be perfect.  We are here to make a mess of things.'  Well, we are going to make a mess of some things whether we intend to or not.  And maybe if we keep everthing so orderly that we don't make a mess of things, we are not fully living our one, human life. 

When I was a sophomore in college, I took a Greek Philosophy class - we learned about the idea of Arete - the virtue of excellence.  I remember going to my professor during office hours - he was probably 60 years old, hunched over, a lifelong academic and he carried an unlit cigarette in his hand all the time.  He waved it around for effect during class.  I said to him, "Professor, I would like to live with virtue and excellence. You see, I'm a runner, but I also smoke.  How can I run with excellence if I'm a smoker?"  I asked this so sincerely.  So earnestly.  Here's what he said, "You're missing the fucking point."

There is an idea that I recently became aware of  in Japanese art - wabi-sabi.  The beauty of imperfection, the beauty of what is impermanent.  Loosely translated, it's something like, "stark and withered."  I like it because the point of view that imperfection is beautiful seems revolutionary to our American psyches. 

Maybe you are a perfectionist in how you keep your house.  Maybe you are a perfectionist in how many times a week you work out.  Maybe you want to be the perfect daughter, the perfect employee, the perfect volunteer.   It is probably time to look at what is driving that - is it the way you were raised?  A need to be in control?  A response to chaos in other places in your life?

Perfectionists, I'm not advocating totally giving up.  I'm advocating loosening up.   Why?  Because maybe that's the best way to embrace this life, to really live, to (as my professor so eloquently put it) not miss the fucking point.