In two previous posts, I expounded and expanded upon Peter Hershock’s use of jazz improvisation as a metaphor for what he calls the “social virtuosity” that can be developed through many years of practicing Zen. He seems to be trying to paint a picture of the phenomenon called “enlightenment” or “awakening” that counters the widespread notion that these concepts refer to a purely personal or individual achievement. As you will recall, Hershock makes the case that in jazz, as well as everyday life, this improvisational virtuosity has a social as well as a personal dimension. I see this improvisational “letting go” as something that is “catchy” and “shareable” and so we all, with practice, can help each other “let go”. I want to follow up with this idea in the next couple of posts because it is one that is hard for most of us to fathom. It runs counter to our basic assumptions about who or what we are and why we might practice a spiritual discipline. Frankly, I want to work through this material as I think it may be helpful for me in clarifying what Zen practice is all about. If you haven’t already, I suggest you go back and read the following before proceeding with this post as it builds on that earlier material.( GREAT UNEXPECATIONS: JAZZ/ZEN IMPROVISATION, JAZZ/ZEN IMPROVISATION: SOCIAL VIRTUOSITY AND PRACTICE )
To begin, let us revisit the work of Lehrer (Imagine: How Creativity Works) which provided a jumping off point for my very first posts on Art And Zen Today. Dealing with jazz improvisation as a form of creative expression, Lehrer cites several studies where scientists were able to observe brain activity while musicians improvised. One of the findings is that while improvising the brains of the musicians showed “a surge of activity in the medial prefontal cortex, an area at the front of the brain associated with self-expression.’” ( p.90) This was to be expected, but they also found shifts in the part of the brain associated with impulse control. When improvising, as opposed to playing a familiar melody, “the musicians were inhibiting their inhibitions, slipping off those mental hand cuffs.” (p.91). For Lehrer, this is another example of situations where creativity is associated with a process of “letting go”, especially regarding letting go of thoughts about what other people may think about what you are doing.
Lehrer argues that the “letting go” process can be learned and he provides some insight into how this can occur by describing what goes on in classes in “Comedic Improv” at the Second City training center. First Lehrer observed that this kind of training involved playing children’s games and just generally acting like kids on clue. He quotes Andy Cobb, one of the instructors:
“it’s about putting people in a state of mind where they’re going to say the first thing that pops into their head, even if it seems silly or stupid. Because that inner voice, that voice telling you not to do something –that’s the voice that kills improv” (p. 102)
Secondly, says Lehrer, the prospective actors “must become aware of everything that is happening on stage…….. “Comic improv, after all, is an ensemble performance: every joke is built on the line that came before.” ( p.103) So after they learn to stop worrying about saying the wrong thing, they begin practicing a technique called ‘Yes, and…..’ . The basic premise is simple: When performing together, improvisers can never question what came before. The need to instantly agree –that’s the “yes” part — and then start setting up the next joke. ” (p.103)
Writing about the same phenomenon, Susan Murphy, the author of Upside Down Zen, provides an example of this process from a book called Improv by Keith Johnstone. Writing about Johnstone’s book, Murphy says:
“….. in one of his examples, the first actor might say, “Ohh!’. and clutch their leg; the second actor might say, ‘Oh my god’, there something wrong with your leg!’ The first actor says, ‘yes, I’ve got a pain in my leg’. The second one says, ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to remove it.’ The first actor then says, ‘Oh, don’t take my leg, I’m rather attached to it.’ Now at that point it’s starting to go dead. ‘No’ has been said; the offer has not been caught. But how about the second time? It goes through the same moves. ‘O, my leg!’ ‘Oh no, not your leg, I’ll have to remove it’ and the second actor says ‘But that’s the leg you took last time!’ So the first actor says, ‘Oh, this is serious’ The second actors says, ‘not…woodworm?’ And so it rolls. The play is alive because all offers are being accepted.’ (pg. 50)
When we are fully present/awake/alive, not only are we less concerned with how others are evaluating us but simultaneously more fully aware of how we are a part of a larger social unit that is mutually creating whatever is to happen next. As mentioned in the earlier posts, our part in any social improvisational “performance” may, at first glance seem rather insignificant. But as Murphy shows, such performances can struggle or die if we either say “no” or signify “no” through our demeanor. So, the key to any successful joint improvisational performance is for all involved to express an attitude of “yes”. I recall the following two incidents when I think about the “power of yes”
I played drums in bands while in high school and college but didn’t play for about 25 years after that. Shortly after I started playing drums again as an adult, I had the chance to sit in with a band consisting of very accomplished musicians and accepted the invitation with some trepidation. I was especially intimidated by the leader who played the trumpet. Mid-way into the song, he turned to me and indicated I should take a solo. For some reason, I found myself playing the solo striking the drums in a way that did not allow the sticks to bounce; producing a muffled sound instead of the usual resonant ring. I recall that once I started the solo, I conjectured that the leader would not like what I was doing. However, right after that thought, I heard him shout “yeah man”, which gave me “permission” to finish the solo with confidence following my instincts. After the song ended , he looked at me briefly and said “fresh!”.
After the incident described above I was motivated to find a jazz group in Philadelphia to play with full time. One of the members of the band was a rhythm guitarist who I and the others judged as not being a good as the rest of the band. During one of our performances, maybe a year after I joined the band, he was taking a solo and I found myself being much more attuned than usual to what he was playing; almost as if he and I were one musician. What was coming from this guy’s guitar was leaps and bounds beyond anything I had heard him play before. As he continued, I opened my eyes, (I usually close them when fully absorbed in what is happening) and saw that all the other members were watching him intently and exchanging glances as if to say “what’s going on here?”. As the guitarist’s solo continued, the others began to utter “yeah man” type of responses and when it was their turn to solo each seemed to perform at a level beyond their usual. Something happened that night, not just at the individual level, but at the group level as well. After that, due to the “power of “yeah man”, we were a better, freer and more cohesive band than we were before.
I think something like this can happen in a variety of everyday situations and plan to explore further how this may work in the next post. While jazz and comedic improvisation is a useful metaphor for understanding the kind of every day “social viruosity” that can stem from Zen practice, they are not the same. So, I also plan to comment on the differences. At least that is the plan. But, who knows? I’m just making this up as I go along. Improvisation or lack of focus????? In the meantime, don’t feel that you have to say “yeah man” to every proposal or opportunity that presents itself. Use common sense and take a look at the movie “ Yes Man” starring Jim Carrey.