JUST DO IT Is it time to release control and live life in the moment?
For Anna Bonet, there’s nothing worse than a last-minute change of plan. But could she learn the art of spontaneity?
Not so long ago, I Googled ‘how to be spontaneous’. Why I was looking it up we’ll get to later, but the top result was an article called How Not To Be Boring and, in that moment, I realised the niggling feeling I’d had for a while might be true: my aversion to anything remotely impulsive meant I wasn’t very good at being ‘fun’.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve enjoyed the comfort that routine and making foolproof plans bring me. The phrases ‘let’s just go with the flow’ or ‘shall we see what happens?’ are not in my vocabulary and, when said by others, have been known to tip me over the edge. Pre-covid, if anyone sprung a last-minute ‘fancy a drink?’ on me, I’d freeze and usually say no, even if I didn’t have any plans. It’s not that I live an unexciting life – wild nights out and far-flung travel have always been a part of it – they just tend to be scheduled (and the further in advance, the better).
I’d happily accepted this inability to live spontaneously as part of my DNA, when recently two small seeds of doubt planted themselves in my thoughts and started to grow. The first was a question that popped into my head one morning as I sat in the same armchair I sit in every day at exactly the same time, drinking coffee from exactly the same mug: At what point does comfort veer into inertia? The second was the realisation, in around March last year, that carefully laid plans won’t protect you from life’s biggest curveballs – in this case a Covid-shaped one.
Research shows that spontaneity is actually good for you and incorporating it into your life can not only reduce stress, boost creativity and improve satisfaction in relationships, but it can also make you happier generally. Plus, it will help you cope better with adversity. ‘Spontaneity is about being flexible and being able to adapt, both of which are characteristics of resilience,’ says Dr Roberta Babb, clinical psychologist and psychodynamic psychotherapist (hanovercentre.com).
Deciding that I could probably do with, well, all of the above, I set myself the challenge of learning the art of spontaneity. Pippa Evans, an improv comedian whose shows have taken her from Edinburgh to the West End, is passionate about how improv can be used as a life skill for everyone. So, in a moment of madness, I sign up for one of her five-week courses. Spontaneity is the bread and butter of improv, I reason, so what better way to learn?
Before my first improv class (over Zoom during the January lockdown), I’m apprehensive to say the least, but Evans quickly puts me and my fellow students at ease. There are 14 of us in the group; some are training in drama, others are just here to have fun, but, as Evans declares, no one is here to judge. We start with a warm-up exercise called Zoom ball, which involves throwing an imaginary ball between us. Every time you ‘catch’ it, you must spontaneously decide who to ‘throw’ it to. ‘This isn’t about being polite,’ Evans reminds us. ‘So don’t think, “Who hasn’t had the ball yet?”, just go with whoever pops into your head first.’
The idea of not thinking about the consequences of spontaneity – for example, who will be kept happy or not by the act of it – is liberating (and, as it turns out, who gets the ball ends up being pretty balanced anyway).
Before we move on to group work, Evans warns us not to ‘block’. ‘Blocking is automatically putting up a shield,’ she explains. ‘It’s not allowing yourself to enter a space with someone, whether that’s a literal space or a figurative space, and we do it out of fear of the unknown.’ This shield might also be the reason I struggle with spontaneity. When I ask Dr Babb why some people are more naturally impulsive than others, she says, ‘It depends how anxious people get about the unknown. It can also be about control. We tend to avoid anything spontaneous if we have this false sense that what we plan, we have control over.’ I see myself as a perfectionist and I like to be in control, so this really chimes with me.
Back at my improv class, we learn a technique that stops you from blocking called Yes And. The idea is to accept the ‘offer’ from your partner and build on it. In pairs, someone starts by saying something such as: ‘Remember that time we went to the beach?’ (the offer), and the partner responds with the words, ‘Yes and’, followed by a statement such as, ‘Yes and the sea was so clear,’ or, ‘Yes and we went for a lovely swim,’ and on it goes. It’s just an exercise, but it encourages me to consider how much I do usually ‘block’ things rather than just say ‘yes’ to them. ‘In situations like these, yes leads to adventure, while no leads to safety,’ Evans tells me later. ‘Both of those options are okay, but sometimes it’s worth examining whether the no is really about the need for safety, or whether it’s because it’s something you think you can control better.’
As my weekly classes continue, another unexpected benefit of improv arises: it helps me stop overthinking. While I can talk myself out of anything that isn’t pre-planned, there’s absolutely no room to overthink in improv. One solo exercise – which we do on mute, thankfully – involves pulling things out of an imaginary box and saying the first thing that comes to mind. However much I think I’ll freeze, I come up with something every time (‘banana, plant pot, sunshine, keys, golden egg…’). It sounds ridiculous, but it makes me realise how freeing it is to get out of my head and trust my subconscious mind.
‘By incorporating moments of spontaneity into your life, however small, you can reroute your brain to actually trust yourself better because you learn that you have the skills and confidence to make things work on the fly,’ explains Dr Babb. ‘It helps you veer away from anticipatory anxiety, which is about rumination and excessive “what ifs”’.
I’m beginning to embrace the idea of spontaneity, but there’s still one thing that troubles me about it, and that’s where responsibility intersects. In the past, part of my inclination to turn away from anything spontaneous is down to holding myself accountable – whether that’s in terms of my career
(‘I shouldn’t go to the pub because I have a big meeting tomorrow morning’) or whether it’s for other people (‘If
I go, my partner will end up eating dinner on his own’).
A litmus test of my friends and colleagues shows that these types of concerns tend to be more common among women. Being impulsive when you have children to get dinner ready for, elderly parents to think about, or a job that doesn’t allow you to take a random afternoon off seems nigh-on impossible. Yet men don’t seem to share the same concerns.
‘It’s possible to live in the moment and be a bit more free but still be responsible,’ Dr Babb tells me when I raise this. She recommends ‘planned spontaneity’; knowing you’re going to do something spontaneous during your free evening tomorrow, but not planning what exactly. ‘Planned spontaneity sounds counter-intuitive, but it allows you to experience the benefits of spontaneity – which is ultimately about personal growth because you learn something new each time – within the parameters of what’s doable for you and your responsibilities.’
Spontaneity doesn’t have to mean doing something life-changing, such as suddenly moving to Australia or quitting your job. ‘It can be incorporated into micro-moments, such as changing your routine slightly, going for your usual Sunday run but alternating the route, or not thinking about what film you’re going to watch on Friday until the moment you sit down on the sofa,’ says Evans.
Since the improv course ended, I’ve found myself mixing things up (albeit in small, lockdown-allowing ways) and rather enjoying it. One morning, I break from my usual routine by going for a walk before starting work instead of sitting in my favourite armchair. On a Saturday, I call a friend in the middle of the afternoon without pre-arranging it, and we have a brilliant, uplifting hour-long chat. And the day my boyfriend and I don’t plan what we’re going to have for dinner leads to us discovering a lovely local restaurant open for takeaway that we wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. I start to feel less stuck and more free (which, during monotony-inducing lockdown, is really saying something).
I don’t think I’ll ever fully embrace spontaneity – I tried not to plan this piece before writing it but failed miserably – and I definitely won’t ever be an improv comedian, but I have discovered the joy of winging it from time to time. After all, as Evans puts it: ‘Nothing ever happens like you think it will anyway.’ So being more flexible to life’s changes means you’ll manage them better. Now, anyone for a spontaneous drink? It doesn’t matter when or where, let’s just go with the flow. I promise it’ll be fun.