On Improvisation and Nature, or
The Nature of Improvisation
To be able to improvise I would describe as the ability to respond to a proposition in a way that is non-judgemental and serving a spontaneously emerging sense of unforeseeable and unconventional order.
You allow movement, sound, painting to happen.
It is not about expressing your own emotional life or intellectual disposition, or about acting out and releasing pent up energy.
It is about serving the moment as an expression of a coherent totality, and about giving up the ego in favor of the whole.
It is this experience and ability, this knowledge of an empty, spontaneous mind, that engenders a sensation of being in awe and appreciative of the very process that is unfolding.
It also becomes clear that this process is the same process that makes a seed sprout and then turn into a flower - and a seed again.
The seed is not separate, it is not a separate entity or object. The flower is not separate, neither is the song or the dance.
They are phenomena, temporary appearances, cut out of a not at first glance perceivable continuum, and then given a name.
In that sense, the flower, the song, or the dance are always present.
They only disguise in different displays.
With that realization comes a sense of compassion, a subtle and yet mighty sensation of appreciation and wonder for all of existence. For all flowers and songs and dances. All different. All the same.
Consequently, an organic way of relating and responding to who- and whatever becomes possible.
This is why I believe that the experience and ability to improvise is fundamental for a society intending to live in a harmonious relationship with its surroundings.
It provides a guideline for a respectful way of relating and interacting, it is a tool in times of uncertainty or regeneration, as much as for spiritual insight.
Improvisation is the language of the wild. Mountains and rivers speak it. Birds and insects speak it.
It is uncivilized and ever fresh. It is wonder-full.