Strength lies in improvisation. All the decisive blows are struck left-handed.
-Walter Benjamin
We think that planning plays some part in our lives. But all plans are illusions. Every plan is subject to change at the last moment. No plan is so powerful as to survive, exactly in tact, the realities of life. Some of the great 20th century artists, like Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944) attempted to create paintings devoid of any preparation (see Kandinsky’s Improvisation #23 at left.) At first, they were ridiculed. But certain truths emerged from their work including the notion that great art could be a spontaneous creation.
One kind of truth emerged when people attempted to interpret abstract art using traditional standards. "What the devil is that?" a conventional viewer would complain when confronted with what looked like random blobs of paint. And many may still wonder at the whole notion of art that is created purely in response to the moment’s emotion. Abstract art may not be planned, but it requires preparation nevertheless. Improvisation turns out to be so important (and so under-appreciated) that is the subject of each of this week’s essays…
Isn’t improvisation something all of us do all the time? Aren’t caregivers called to improvise many times across any day?…
The human desire to plan creates enormous stress when the natural winds of the
world blow careful planning off course. Nice evidence of this appeared as I wrote
this. As I sat on my daughter’s third story porch in Cambridge,
Massachusetts, I jotted some notes about things to write to you about
improvisation. A gust of wind blew them over the railing and away
forever. My need to improvise became immediate. 
The more we can accept the changeability of life, the better we are able to live it. How close is your life to the dreams you had as a child or young adult? How have you been at improvising around the way your life developed. Did you always dream of being the caregiver you are today? If not, how can you fulfill that dream in your life today? Finally, can you imagine the courage it takes to stage a performance that is largely created on the spot (as at left)?
I have always had over-large dreams for my own life because I always believed myself among the lucky people in the world. Born with so many advantages, I grew up believing it was my responsibility to accomplish great things for others. My life was supposed to be a sort of pay back. As I planned out the steps, I found myself occupying jobs with ever increasing responsibility. But life, as it does with all of us, kept tossing both obstacles and opportunities in front of me. Sometimes the later were hard to recognize.
The height of my life’s biggest sadness arrived as unexpectedly as any hard surprise. Cut from my job after a merger, I found myself with plenty of money but a feeling of being divorced from my life’s meaning. My ego had become so fully enmeshed with my role as a CEO, I could not grasp an existence separate from my job.
The ego has no ears for raw truth. What some egos want is a level of praise unavailable in this world. When the ego doesn’t receive what it wants, it may retreat to nurse its wounds or, worse, attempt to force false praise, creating a bubble of unreality.
If we are tied too much too our ego, we risk being deaf to genuine honesty. Our ego rejects whatever does not support it.
Improvisation, by its nature, requires extraordinary presence. Because improvisation forbids planning, there is a pure need for response to the situation and the people in the room. Improvisational comedy requires that the comedians react to the energy they feel in the moment. There’s no learning lines, just making them up.
But this does not necessarily disengage the ego. Actors, comedians and public speakers are all performers. Ego may well be the energy that drives their performance.
And aren’t we all performers?
Perhaps that is the center of it for caregivers. Each day and each night’s work calls for a kind of performance for patients, family, fellow caregivers and supervisors. Each of these audiences calls us to meet certain needs. Caregiving is about real life and death, real pain and suffering, real joy and celebration, as well as the day to day drumbeat of the ordinary. Every moment, we are called to improvise.
We can act from love, or we can act from fear. Those who are good at improvising understand the difference between planning and preparation. Planning makes the chancy assumption that the world will unfold in a particular way and tries to make the world conform to the plan. Preparation, on the other hand, including deep spiritual work, enables the loving spirit to deal with whatever life offers.
When caregivers act from love, they need never worry about the outcome. They need never concern themselves with either praise or blame. Love calls us to prepare our hearts and to open them to each moment of life. Love is always its own best reward.
-Erie Chapman
Journal of Sacred Work 
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