Translator: Ivana Krivokuća Reviewer: Peter van de Ven
When I was seven, I entered a beauty pageant.
I've never been a classic beauty.
The ace up my sleeve was my talent portion:
a belly dance.
I practiced for weeks; I was prepared to dazzle.
On the day of the pageant, finger cymbals and veils in place,
I hit my opening pose, my music starts -
it's not my song.
(Laughter)
Instead of Arabic drums, it's Rick Springfield's "Jessie's girl."
(Laughter)
The sound guy put in the wrong cassette.
My little body freezes, and I want to run off stage and cry,
and I want to scream, "Fix it, sound guy, you're making me look like an idiot!"
Well, all eyes are on me.
Luckily, I spot my mom in the crowd,
and she smiles at me and reminds me, "Just breathe."
So - (Breathes)
I do.
For the next two minutes and 12 seconds,
I make up this jazz belly dance fusion
that somehow makes sense to the tune of "Jessie's girl."
(Laughter)
And ladies and gentlemen, you are looking at Little Miss New England 1981.
Thank you.
(Applause)
The win is insignificant to this lesson I learned.
At a moment where I was expected to be perfect, things went wrong,
and I accepted it and moved forward.
At seven I discovered this concept that has stayed with me my entire life.
When things go wrong, it's ok not to be right.
Now I'm a professional improv comedian. Comedy with no script.
People pay money to watch me get on stage and not know what I'm doing.
(Laughter)
It's pressure.
Improvisers are
like the crash test dummies of the theater world.
We move forward fast, we don't know where we're going,
and we might hit a wall and die.
If you've ever seen comedy bomb, you know it feels like death.
Thankfully, we have skills we can rely on,
like active listening, being playful, being in the moment.
The Greek philosopher Plato said something awesome:
"You can learn more about a person in an hour of play
than a year of conversation."
I think that's true, so I've invited these TED volunteers to play a game for you.
They didn't know that this is what they were volunteering for.
They have no idea what's about to happen.
They will just follow my instructions.
The only thing I told them backstage is that they're going to walk.
This is a simple playground game.
Now walk at a pace like you actually have somewhere to be.
You're going somewhere.
Good. Oh, he's hustling, I love it. (Laughter)
As you're walking and throughout the rest of the game,
I want you to look at each other, not at the floor.
Yes. Keep your pace up while you do that.
Great. Now, stop!
Now walk. Great!
Keep those eyes looking at each other.
Now stop means walk and walk means stop.
You're still moving at this point.
Good. Eye contact at one another, not on the floor.
Good. Stop!
Great! Awesome! Good. We're still moving.
When I say name, yell out your first name like you mean it.
Name.
(Volunteers talk)
Good. Let's try it again. Name.
(Volunteers talk)
Great. Name.
(Volunteers talk)
There we go. Yell it like you mean it.
When I say jump, jump once and keep moving like a Mario brother.
We'll try it. Here we go. Jump!
Whoo! Jump!
Yes! Now, name means jump, jump means name.
Good. Keep looking at each other. You're all looking at me right now.
(Laughter)
Good. Here we go, we're moving, eyes are on each other.
We're breathing. Great. Here we go.
Name!
Jump!
(Volunteers shout)
Jump!
(Volunteers shout) (Laughter)
When I say clap, clap once in unison. Let's try it. Clap!
(Volunteers clap)
When I say twist, give a little wiggle. Keep on going. Twist!
(Laughter)
Twist! Alright.
You know it's going to happen. Clap means twist, twist means clap.
We're going to put all of this together.
I'm reminding you, look at each other, make eye contact, be present.
Keep your pace up.
Here we go. Clap!
(Laughter) Name!
(Laughter) Jump!
Twist!
Name!
You're still moving.
(Laughter)
Stop!
Oh! Let's hear it for them! Thank you, volunteers.
(Applause)
Thank you, thank you.
(Laughter)
So what just happened?
They got super confused. Yes?
Some of them froze up, some of them got frustrated,
most of them stopped breathing.
A lot of them looked at me for approval.
The more challenging the game got,
the more they got in their own head and disconnected from each other.
I've played this game with heads of hospitals, Hollywood writers,
even the royal family of Qatar, and I can tell you this:
we're all the same.
We're so afraid of making a wrong choice that we make no choice at all,
and why do we do this?
Because our brains are addicted to being right.
On a biological monkey brain level, being right is useful.
It's what protects us from eating poisoned berries
or walking off a cliff.
In daily life, this need to be right,
it gets in the way of communication, relationships,
learning, creativity.
What's that thing you've always wanted to try, but you don't have the guts?
Write a novel?
Sing karaoke?
Present a TED Talk?
What's in your way?
Your brain's need to do it right.
What about a difficult relationship in your life,
like a coworker that points out your mistakes in meetings?
A friend you blocked on social media
because they always disagree with your political points of view.
And why are you at odds with them?
Because they're trying to prove you're wrong,
and your brain must be right.
There's science behind this.
When we feel challenged or judged,
cortisol floods our brain and disables us from listening,
logic, feeling compassion.
We basically become the idiot version of ourselves,
and a chemical need to be right takes over.
Because when you prove you're right,
awesome stuff like dopamine is released,
that makes you feel superior and powerful
and better than everyone around you.
It's a high, and it's addictive - you want to feel this way all the time.
Because when you're proven wrong,
yucky stuff floods your brain that makes you feel like a dumb loser.
No one wants to feel that way.
Your stressed out brain doesn't even consider
there's a third option -
to connect.
When our brains experience connection,
oxytocin is released.
Oxytocin is what regulates empathy, bonding,
even orgasms - and people seem to like those.
(Laughter)
Connecting feels just as good in your brain as being right.
Maybe better.
Improv relies on connecting,
on being present and aware of your partner.
On making decisions not knowing if they're right or wrong.
Just saying yes and moving forward.
And guess what? All of you are improvisers.
Nobody woke up with a script this morning.
Life is one big improvisation, we're making it up as we go,
all in an effort to get where we want to be.
So, when things go wrong in life, I have three improv tools for you
that will make you okay with not needing to be right.
First tool: celebrate your screw-ups.
Raise your hand if you screwed up today.
Most of us. Some of you are lying.
All right. We're going to clap for them. Ready, set, go!
(Cheering) (Applause)
Don't you wish you could do that at work or in your marriage?
Yes, give yourself permission to screw up.
When someone makes a mistake in improv, we cheer for them.
It's like when a baby is learning to walk and they fall,
parents go, "Yay, you're ok!"
And then the baby gets up, they avoid meltdown,
and it learns to walk.
And give each other permission to screw up.
This has happened to you - you've been driving on the freeway,
and out of nowhere, someone cuts you off, and what do you do?
You start ranting about how wrong they are.
You lay on that horn, you get that finger ready to go,
and then you look over, and they're apologizing.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you."
And then you feel like a raging jerk.
Yes, you let dopamine take over.
Everybody, just give everybody permission to screw up.
The second tool is the golden rule of improv:
make each other look good.
Every improv company has their version of this belief.
Before the players get on stage, we look at each other and we say,
"I got your back. I'm going to make you look good."
And then we run out onstage reminded that we are working as one.
There's such a confidence in that,
knowing your choices are totally supported.
Maslow tells us, after food and shelter,
the next thing we need as species in order to survive
is a sense of belonging.
A feeling seen and heard, and not judged as right and wrong.
When your ideas are valued, you contribute more.
Companies like Google and Zappos, they bank on this.
They create corporate cultures of inclusion and trust and support.
When people feel safe in work environments to take risks,
this leads to innovation and creative solutions and ownership.
All because everybody's got each other's back.
The final tool is the two magic words of improv:
"Yes, and ..."
"Yes, and ... " means, whatever my partner says or does,
I say "Yes, it's true," and I add on to it.
So we build a little scene or a story or a song together.
For example, I start a scene going,
"Oh darling, I just love the opera!"
My partner says, "Yes, you do, and you look ravishing in that gown!"
And now we can just move forward.
If somebody says no, it knocks the whole thing down.
"Oh darling, I just love the opera!"
"No, you don't"
(Laughter)
We have nowhere to go now.
We all have "no people" in our lives.
They block us from moving forward.
"No" comes from a fear of not making the right choice.
Now, occasionally on stage, two ideas accidentally clash.
Let's say I enter a scene like this, and in my head I'm thinking,
"I'm a firefighter."
And at that moment my partner turns, looks at me and says, "Santa!"
(Laughter)
"Yes, ho, ho, it's me, Santa.
Um, your Christmas tree was on fire, make sure you unplug those lights."
Now two ideas that normally would never make sense together
coexist as true and merge to move everybody forward.
That's the kind of world we build in improv.
"Yes, and ... " is powerful stuff.
It's the ability to accept change and take action.
Yes, I got laid off, and I'm going to go back to school.
Yes, my diagnosis is cancer,
and I'm going to chose a treatment and beat it.
Celebrate your screw-ups.
Make each other look good.
Yes, and ...
So, the next time stuff unexpectedly goes wrong in your life,
just remember, it's ok not to be right.
Use these tools.
And the next time life hands you Rick Springfield's song,
just say, "Yeah!" and belly dance.
(Laughter)
Thank you.
(Applause)