It might seem improbable that grief and improv would be paired up as a team, but I recently had the pleasure of meeting an improv expert, Dayna Gowan. It just so happened that I was particularly overwhelmed with grief when we met, so our conversation started with my question, “Is it okay for me to show up as I am or do you want to reschedule?”

Dayna let me know that she is no stranger to grief and that she is someone who always appreciates authenticity in the moment.

That start to our conversation led us magically into a shared insight that we could use some of the improv tools to help navigate grief.

When most people think of improv, we picture people on stage making audiences laugh. But at its core, improv isn’t really about being funny. It’s about learning to meet whatever shows up with curiosity, flexibility and presence; and isn’t that just what grief asks of us?

Loss has a way of tossing out the script we thought our lives would follow. Suddenly, we’re living in a story we never imagined or wanted. We can find ourselves as a character in an unfamiliar scene with no idea of what happens next.

When Dayna and I dug deeper into our conversation about grief, we discovered surprising ways that improvisation can help us navigate heartbreak—not by fixing it, but by helping us stay present to it.

Here are a few ways to use improv principles to navigate grief:

Accept the scene that is offered.

One of the first rules of improv is to accept what has already been offered. If your scene partner says, “We’re on a pirate ship,” you don’t argue that you’re in a grocery store.

Grief asks something similar of us. Acceptance doesn’t mean pretending it doesn’t hurt. It means gently acknowledging, “This is where I am right now.” Ironically, that acceptance often becomes the doorway to the start of healing.

Practice “Yes, and…”

Perhaps the most famous improv guideline is “Yes, and…”

Again, this doesn’t mean we like what’s happening or that it isn’t hard. It means we stop fighting reality long enough to ask, “Given that this is true… what comes next?”

I remind you that grief and joy can coexist. Heartbreak and hope can sit side by side. We can deeply miss someone and still allow ourselves moments of laughter, friendship and beauty.

If we pay attention, life keeps inviting us to let something exist alongside the grief we feel.

Stay present instead of trying to predict the ending.

Great improvisers listen carefully to what’s happening right now.

Grief constantly tries to get us into the future: Will I ever feel better? Will I always miss them? What will happen next? How will I possibly go on without this person?

Improv can remind us that we only need to respond to this moment. One breath. One conversation. One small act of kindness. We can help ourselves survive by living in small “scenes” instead of thinking of the big, scary future.

Trust that you don’t have to do it alone.

The best improv happens because the performers support one another. They listen. They build on each other’s ideas. They make one another look good.

Grief isn’t meant to be done all alone. We can survive-and heal-in the company of people who can witness our story, hold space for our emotions and remind us of our strength and resilience when we’ve forgotten them.

We may not have chosen this scene. But together, we can learn how to keep improvising our way forward—one moment at a time. You are not alone.

 

P.S. You can watch Sherry and Dayna’s recorded conversation here.