Coloring between the lines

This morning I began reading a book recommended to me by Kim of Prayers for the Oft Traveled Road.   It's called Improv Wisdom, and offers life lessons from Improvisational Theater.

In the prologue to the book, the author, Patricia Ryan Madson, tells a story of basically having spent a life "coloring between the lines," and how it didn't quite turn out as she expected -- which led her to Improv.

I was immediately reminded of an experience WAY back in kindergarten, when my teacher called my mother in to complain because, having colored in the outline of a bee, I flipped the paper over, traced the outline on the back, and colored it in again.  For some reason this was not acceptable... (and I remember my mother being furious with the teacher afterward).

But what I also remembered, thinking back on this, is that for years afterward I loved coloring books (I particularly remember one a friend had, of the Lennon Sisters in all their pretty dresses!) but, to cover any possible stray imperfections, I would go over all the lines with a wide black crayon.

What I remember is loving the effect of those wide black lines.  But what I suspect is that I was protecting myself from failure -- and don't we all do that!  Of course -- having taken improv classes -- I know that's the scary bit about improv: you have to be willing to fail.  I seem to remember that was my downfall in trying to learn to ski, as well: you have to be willing to fall.

Whether failing or falling, the challenge is the same: you're out of control, and somebody might yell at you, or laugh at you, or be shocked by you... and of course we who are now "women of a certain age" grew up knowing that any of those things would be a source of GREAT SHAME, and so we avoid opportunities to fail or fall at all costs.

So, thinking about that this morning as I came to my computer, I was amused to be greeted by this photo.  Actually I took a whole bunch of these shots at sunset a night or two ago, a bit bemused by my determination to photograph something so relatively unspectacular.  But now I see that the setting sun was doing her own variation on coloring between the lines -- and maybe our job, like hers, is simply to be light, and allow the lines to form themselves around us.  Like the designers of Project Runway, "One day we're in, and the next we're out," but what's important is to be true to our own vision.

Yup!

It's all good...