Today I found out that a documentary is
being made about one of my favourite childhood books. This book was given to me
for Christmas when I was in Grade 4 and I have read it multiple times both as a
child and as an adult.
After looking through some quotes I found
this one, which I quite like:
“Ah, this is fine," he cried
triumphantly, holding up a small medallion on a chain. He dusted it off, and
engraved on one side were the words "WHY NOT?" "That's a good
reason for almost anything - a bit used perhaps, but still quite serviceable.”
Almost two years ago one of my best friends
had a son. This little guy is pretty much my only experience of someone tiny.
Before him, little kids were to be watched with disconnected amusement at
family functions, and intermittently (and accidentally) knocked over through absent-mindedness. But they weren’t actually
‘people’. More like ‘people-potential’.
The best thing about your loved-ones having
offspring is that you get to love them too. Not like ‘they’re pretty cute and
say funny things’ - No, I mean
that if anyone does anything mean to this kid at school I’ll be GOING DOWN
THERE.
The thing about little Harlow is that he
accepts all of the information that is dished to him with absolute trust.
…Which is a lot of pressure for someone who is reasonably absent minded (I
promise I’ve only knocked him over a couple of times).
It’s also a lot of fun. Never have I been
cooler, had better ideas, or been more interesting. If I say a sentence to him,
he says the sentence to me. If I make an unrealistic zebra sound when reading
to him, he doesn’t complain (or give me the funny looks that his parents do).
He doesn’t judge me for my poor reading-out-loud technique or even my
absent-minded knocking-over. If I swear, he swears.
Sorry about that, Rochelle.
Apparently, first rule of improv comedy
is that you must always say ‘yes, and’ when offered an idea in a scene. The purpose of ‘yes, and’ is to build a
shared story with your partner or team-mates, quickly and collaboratively. For
example, if you and I were in a scene together, I might say “my name is Kathryn
and I make excellent zebra sounds, such as [Kathryn makes very unrealistic
Zebra sounds]”. Then you would have to respond by accepting and adding. For
example you might say “Hi Kathryn – wow those ARE realistic. Let me join you,
and can you teach me how?”. And all of a sudden we have a shared story to play
out (obviously I will leave improv to the professionals).
The opposite of the magical ‘yes, and’ is
the tedious ‘no, but’. In the presence of ‘no, but’ the scene stops, things get
awkward, people feel judged and the fun is over. I’m sure we all know someone
who is all about the ‘no, but’. A colleague? A sibling? A parent? I’m sure
those interactions make everyone feel accepted and great.
To me, ‘yes, and’ seems to be the
life-equivalent of ‘why not?’. If there’s nothing particularly wrong with an
idea, why not indeed? Who knows where it will lead?
Very little kids seem to use ‘yes, and’
every day without thinking. “Great Zebra sounds, Kathryn. You are certainly an
excellent out-loud-reader. Sh*t, it’d be fun to make those Zebra sounds
together”.
I’m not saying that questioning things is
bad. Questioning things is important. I guess it’s about questioning why we’re
questioning the things at all, and thinking about the implications of your next ‘no, but’.
“There are no wrong roads to anywhere.”
- Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth
No comments:
Post a Comment