A Happy Accident of Joy
I’m in the produce aisle at Trader Joe’s, standing in front of a cooler stocked with containers of blueberries. I can see some include unripe berries, so I select a pint that looks good and turn it over to make sure there aren’t red ones hiding on the bottom. It’s at this moment that the container slips from my hands and lands on the floor, the lid opening to scatter fruit in all directions.
Shoppers around me pause to stare, and I stand there looking at the mess. A woman says, “Uh oh”.
If this had happened to me a decade ago, I would have felt that intense “where’s the nearest rock so I can crawl under it” kind of embarrassment. I probably would have even cried. That’s because, for most of my life, I equated making a mistake - any mistake - with proof that there was something wrong with me. One slip up, one deviation from what was expected, and there I was, flawed and damaged, for all the world to see.
I lived my life following the rules. Don’t get in the way. Don’t ask questions. Don’t make a mess. Don’t cause other people more work. Don’t ask for things you don’t deserve (like a container of ripe fruit).
And when a mistake is made, when a mishap inevitably occurs?
See what happens when you’re too picky. You’re so clumsy. You don’t even know how to shop for fruit without causing a scene. What’s wrong with you?
What’s wrong with me? Everything.
Shame, blame, and constant embarrassment are joy killers. When you’re always worried about doing the wrong thing, when you live in fear of criticism from others, there’s no energy left to enjoy the present moment, especially if that moment goes a bit off script.
That was how I lived. Then I started taking improv classes, and my life began to change.
One of the main tenets of improvisation is “There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.” It’s the belief that when something goes awry in a scene, rather than panic you and your scene partner should follow this new path to see where it leads. Chances are that it’ll take you to a wonderful place that was never on your radar. It’s part of Yes, Anding, another foundational concept where you say Yes to whatever is happening on stage, and add something of yourself to it. Yes, whatever you’re doing is the right thing. And together we’ll figure out where we’re going.
What did all that mean for someone like me, a desperate rule follower who lived in fear of making a mistake? The pressure was off. In fact, making a mistake was part of the adventure, part of the fun, part of the play.
Part of finding the joy in the unexpected. So let’s return to the grocery store, where everyone is staring at me.
I reach down to pick up the almost empty container (there are two lonely berries still inside) and, when I stand up, I start to giggle. “Well, that was unexpected”, I say. I look around for an employee to help but see only shoppers staring back. I realize I’m blocking the aisle. A few berries that have rolled out into the store are being squashed by passersby.
Then I notice a table nearby where a Trader Joe’s employee is handing out samples of organic pomegranate juice. I leave my cart in place (because the majority of the berries are under it), grab my purse, and head towards him.
“Excuse me,” I say to the young man. “I’m so sorry but...” I hold up the container with the two berries. “These blueberries just jumped out of my hand and onto the floor.” He looks from me to the scattered fruit and starts to laugh. I add, “I’m really sorry.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to revoke your Trader Joe’s membership.” he says with a smile.
I smile back and shrug my shoulders. “Should I, I don’t know, scoop them up?”
“Don’t worry about it at all,” he assures me. “We’ll take care of it.”
I head back to my cart and this is when I see another woman at the cooler, just about to reach for some blueberries.
“Watch out for those,” I laugh, pointing to the floor. “They’re a bit jumpy today.”
“I just want to find some that are all ripe,” she says, moving aside a few pints.
“That’s what I was doing,” I reply.
As she reaches for another container, several packages of berries slowly slide off the shelf. We grab them as they fall; luckily none open.
I giggle. But as we try to replace the fallen containers, more slide off the stack. I laugh out loud. And the more I laugh, the more containers slip off the shelf, as if they’re desperate to join their comrades on the grocery store floor. The other woman is laughing now, and another shopper watching us juggle berry pints suggests that maybe we’re on “Candid Camera.”
By now I’m doubled over with laughter that I’m sure can be heard on the other side of the store. We give up and start putting the blueberry pints wherever they’ll stay put. And that’s how another Trader Joe’s employee finds us when he arrives with a broom.
“I’m sorry about the mess,” I tell him as I move my cart. “But watch out for the rest of those containers. They’re trying to escape.”
It’s true, as the Proverb says, that a merry heart is like good medicine. What I learned, late in life, is that laughter isn’t only found in the perfect places. Mishaps and mistakes can be the conduit for moments of unexpected joy. Even in the produce aisle.
About our guest blogger, Joanne Brokaw…
Improvisor and award-winning writer Joanne Brokaw knows a thing or two about fear. Despite her list of creative accomplishments, for most of her career she's been a chronic 'fraidy cat with a terminal case of procrastination. Then she discovered improvisational comedy. Now she leads workshops, performs regularly with her improv and comedy teams, and tries to “Yes, And” life's curveballs. Her second book, “Suddenly Stardust: A Memoir (of sorts) About Fear, Freedom & Improv”, is now available from Wordcrafts Press. You can learn more at www.joannebrokaw.com.