An improv event versus a movie show: Think how we experience attending these differently. At the first, you’re an integral part of what happens; at the second, though there may be some interaction with fellow attendees, your presence makes not the slightest difference to what’s on the screen.
I recently had the good fortune of being invited to an improv event – set up as a game show with two teams competing. Such a ‘contest’ ups the ante of audience participation. Not only were we the constant source of prompts for the improv artists and encouraged to be as vocal as we liked with opinions and emotions (all normal improv audience stuff), we were also given voting cards for each round, a supply of plastic flowers to throw on stage should we want to express appreciation, plus (most fun of all, as it turned out) wet sponges to aim at the onstage judges should we happen to disagree.
Now imagine thinking you were going to a movie theatre, but soon after you’re in your seat, instead of the lights dimming, you’re passed an armful of plastic roses and a pile of dripping sponges. “Oh, no,” you think, “this is not exactly what I had in mind!” But (trust me), ten minutes later you’re starting to have the time of your life!
May I stretch your thinking even further: Imagine the inside of a big theatre, and there’s an audience settled in their comfortable seats, assuming they’re there to watch the latest blockbuster. Meanwhile, the reality is that a group of improv artists have gathered on the stage, and are trying to get a show up and running… But the audience’s assumption of movie watching is so all-pervasive, they’re oblivious to understanding their true surroundings.
I feel like I’ve been part of such an ‘audience’ for most of my life. I’ve been watching for so long, and finally… As if something in me was in a deep-freeze sleep and is now thawing awake. In my case, while bird watching.
I thought I was an observer. But I’m a participant.
As humans, we’re not ‘outside’ the natural world, looking in. We’re part of it.
What’s in front of our noses is not a giant projection screen, but a live stage with a wonderful invitation to get stuck in.
Here’s a 5-line poem summing up my thawing out:
IN A NUTSHELL: BIRD WATCHING PART II
it used to be a simple me–it
or a generic though warmer me–them
then came a more nuanced me–her/him
recently a veritable revolution me–you
which has just given birth to a gorgeous us
From poetry collection ‘Dear Planet’, published by Fidessa Literary, July 2025.
Photo: Bird(/Human) Watching: a young Philippine hawk-eagle (Nisaetus philippensis).
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