Are you ready for the lifelong waltz between discomfort and liberation?
I recently started participating in Playback Theatre as a novice performer. In this form of improvisational theatre, the audience tells stories and watches them enacted on the spot, where most of the performance is spontaneous.
As a general rule-of-thumb for the performers, we will say “yes, and”. We don’t say “no”. We accept what other actors are offering and expand positively on the scene with our own ideas.
This is not an inflexible “yes” – because the “and” turns it into an opportunity for us to transform the request, creatively, into something else. Saying “no” eliminates this opportunity entirely.
This got me thinking about boundaries.
If I adopt the “yes, and” approach in real life, would it mean that I become a person without boundaries?
Today, there is much discussion about setting boundaries for mental health. This is often defined as drawing a line between what is permissible and what is not. Yet, improv has given me a new perspective on boundary-setting, and I’m enjoying how I can explore it meaningfully from a field outside of psychology.
Through the improv sessions, I found that saying “yes, and” is, at once, both an uncomfortable and a liberating experience for me.
The uncomfortable part is learning a whole new way of being. It was not natural for me, at first, to immediately say “yes” to any request, so there was a sense of going into uncharted territory. There is also tension within me when I say “yes, and”: when I am offered something, I don’t know what to offer in return and it makes me anxious.
Then even as I experience feelings of discomfort, I also feel good – specifically playful and free. Here, in improv, is a space where I can ask for almost anything with no fear of judgment or rejection. My entire being opens. My mind wanders into new scenarios, sometimes not with a lot of thinking. My body is relaxed. I want to swing my arms, I want to wiggle my toes. Oh, the liberation!
To be sure, improv happens in a safe space. It’s not about giving up boundaries or losing sight of the importance of boundaries.
The “yes, and” is conducted with an agreement among performers that this is done within the rules of improv.
“With the rules, it means that there are still boundaries, but in a much broader sense,” says Renee. “And so, it’s about giving permission to the self and one another in this safe space. It’s experiencing healthy permission. There is also a code of ethics in theatre, which is a type of boundary, where there’s an understanding of saying ‘yes’ but it doesn’t mean we say ‘yes’ to things that are harmful.”
Indeed, “yes, and” happens on a strong foundation of safety. There is clarity about what is safe and what is not.
“Yes, and” also extends beyond safety to encompass respect. Before we begin improvising, we will have already discussed safety for each of us. Because the “yes, and” will occur in relation to others, we practise being extra mindful about one another’s needs.
This mindfulness develops as we refine our observation, listening and communication skills. With these abilities, we tune into each performer, accumulating experience over time. Eventually, we develop an almost instinctual understanding of one another.
“Let’s watch,” someone says. That’s our cue to start improvising based on a story from the audience. We take the stage. Moving between feelings of discomfort and liberation, I find that improvising is like dancing.
Sometimes it feels difficult, and I step back. Sometimes it feels easy, and I step forward. It is this very movement, back and forth, that makes me feel alive. I began to see that setting boundaries can similarly be a fluid dance – between unease and freedom – rather than an unmoving stance.
When I wasn’t so graceful in this dance, how many possibilities did I shut out by saying “no” too hastily? If I said “yes, and”, what creative possibilities would I have birthed?
Discomfort is an inherent part of the dance of creating boundaries. There will always be dilemmas and uncertainties. “Should I do this or that?” “What if …?”
Yet, it is in accepting discomfort, on safe grounds, that I liberate myself to explore.
This exploration, this dance, is a form of play, Renee suggests. “Play and imagination thrive when we suspend disbelief and judgment,” she says. “It’s about keeping the inner child alive. It’s like being children in a playground again, free to express ourselves. However, if someone starts to destroy the toys, we might decide, ‘I don’t want to play with you anymore!’”
So, these days, I remind myself to say “yes, and”.
I tell myself that I can accept the offer and build on it with my creativity, where both the other person’s needs and my own are considered. Like in improv, I get excited about co-creating possibilities greater than what either of us could achieve alone. This is the same in existential therapy: it’s relational and we collaborate to transcend our current selves together.
My mobile phone chimes. Someone has just sent a text message. I don’t have enough bandwidth to reply immediately, but I’m thinking “yes, and”.
Yes I’ll respond, and I’ll need a few more days to do just that.
About the Author
Hi, I'm Mag: a UKCP-accredited counselling psychologist and founder of Singapore’s first ever existential practice. My care philosophy is not to diagnose, label, or categorise but rather to work with the individual in front of me in the here and now.
My clinical credentials certainly play a significant role in defining my professional identity. But to foster a deeper connection and authenticity, I invite you to discover my other “Selves”, the various facets of who I am.
