Winging It

My time spent over coffee in the morning offers me the opportunity to look ahead to the day – how it might unfold, what I might need to do or where I need to be. On some mornings I know there is a schedule to I need to keep – appointments, expectations, plans made to spend time with others and so planning for that becomes necessary. It helps to avoid overlap and the potential of “forgetting” something I had arranged well in advance. Other days there’s more freedom to see where I find myself. Those days give me the most opportunities for discovery and the best moments for creativity.

Looking at the coffee mug I used this morning sent me off on thoughts of the times I’ve decided to wing it and just see what would happen. And the times I’ve just gone with the flow and realized that having a plan might have been the better decision. Life’s like that. But there’s no doubt in my mind that when I wing it some of the most thoughtful, creative moments show themselves to me. Because I get out of my own way and don’t force words, or the images I’m trying to create whether through film or with art supplies. There’s a creative freedom that comes from saying “let’s just see where this goes.”

Earlier in June, I was asked to make a speech at a wedding. I’m comfortable with speaking in public when the audience is smaller, friendlier. I asked what this speech was to be about and was told in a dry tone of voice “well, it’s not open mic night.” There was no need to remind me of that – though to be honest there is always the possibility I could go off on a tangent. But I didn’t.

When called upon, I took to the floor, thanked the master of ceremonies for the microphone, and started speaking. I wrote no speech though I was asked periodically before the wedding if I had done so. I did lead off with the open mic night comment as an ice breaker – and because I thought it was charming and warm and would help to put the guests in a relaxed frame of mind. And when I spoke, I did so from the heart. Just the things I felt, that felt right in the moment. I didn’t speak for long. I kept it short and to the point. As I spoke, I looked around the room and at the head table and I saw smiles and I heard laughter and gauged from that – this must have been the right note to strike.

Later in the evening there were people who complimented me on that speech, amazed when asked and I replied that I hadn’t written it beforehand – which surprised even me as I’m a writer. Writing isn’t just what we put down on paper (or a computer screen) – it’s how we form our thoughts and how we express ourselves. How often do we write something in our head that may or may not see the light of day?

The downside for me in not having put pen to paper is that I have no lasting record of that speech. I have no recollection of all the things I said – just smatterings and phrases and a few of the more poignant words I used. It might have been the best speech I’ll ever have given in my life.

I know this though. What matters isn’t what I said – it’s the smiles on the faces of those in the room, of those I was speaking about and to. The feelings I was expressing came from somewhere deeper inside me than I realized and by winging it, I allowed myself the freedom to be my most authentic self, to work with the love and the energy in the room.

And yes, I did allow for a moment of laughter. Open mic night or not.