Yes, And... the Unknown: How Improvisation Helps Us Live Well with Uncertainty

A few weeks ago, I came across a new paper by my colleagues Drs. Bradley McDaniels, Gregory Pontone, and Indu Subramanian that gave me a phrase I'd never heard before:

Intolerance of Uncertainty.

I immediately thought, "Well, that's Parkinson's." And then I thought, as you might be, "That's life."

The new paper defines intolerance of uncertainty (IU) as the tendency to experience ambiguity as threatening, often leading to worry, avoidance, or difficulty making decisions. In other words, uncertainty is more than uncomfortable, it feels unsafe.

For people living with Parkinson's disease, uncertainty isn't an occasional visitor. It's a daily companion.

Will my medication work today?

Will I sleep tonight?

Will I freeze walking across the parking lot?

Will my speech cooperate?

Will I recognize what's happening to my own mind?

Will I lose another piece of myself?

The cruel trick of Parkinson's is that it rarely gives definitive answers. Symptoms fluctuate, treatments help until they don't, and progression is unique to every individual. Parkinson's demands people live with uncertainty. The problem is that many of us, understandably, hate uncertainty.

The Human Desire for a Script

As an improviser, I've spent years teaching a simple concept: People don't actually fear public speaking. They fear not knowing what happens next. Whether it’s the next word, how people will react, how I’ll react to their reaction (or lack thereof) – it all spirals lightning fast. 

We crave scripts. We want to know how conversations will go, how doctor's appointments will end, and whether the test results will be good.

Will our team win the game? Will our teenager come home safely - and secondarily, on time? Will we be…okay?

Improvisation removes the script by design - on purpose. We enter a game with no plan. Someone says something ridiculous. Here's the task -- and though it's simple, it's also harder than you may expect: Say YES, accepting reality, AND respond immediately.

Improvisers don't know what's coming and we let it excite us, inform us, delight us. We get our responses “wrong” in the classic social sense all the time -- and that’s when we really win (in this case, wins are measured by new insights, laughter, and connection across the imperfect human condition).

We stop performing and are forced to be our full selves. We’re radically vulnerable and totally accepted. The unknown becomes our playground, helping us to see things others won’t or don’t because their intolerance for uncertainty is so acute.

We follow the fear of uncertainty on purpose. 

Practicing Uncertainty

This is where I think improvisation becomes more than entertainment. It's group play in designed uncertainty. That’s the whole game.

You make a choice without knowing if it's right. You trust your partner. You recover from mistakes and discover new pieces of yourselves and others. 

You become connected to yourself and others in ways you forgot were possible, remembering that “failure” in the classic sense isn't fatal.

You discover flexibility through repeated exposure to the unknown. And your nervous system learns that uncertainty and catastrophe aren't the same thing.

Parkinson's and "Yes, And"

I've often said that the philosophy of Yes, And works for Parkinson's because:

Yes is acceptance while and is your power.

This new research helps explain why: Acceptance doesn't mean liking Parkinson's. It means acknowledging reality without spending all of our energy fighting the fact that uncertainty exists.

The "And" is where agency returns. You say, I have Parkinson's And… I can still connect, laugh, create, help someone else and, maybe most importantly, still surprise myself.

Connection Reduces Uncertainty

Remember: Improvisation isn't something you do alone. It's relational. Shared uncertainty aids tolerance. It becomes manageable because someone is standing with you, ready to quickly yes, and anything you think or feel.

That's one of the reasons the best support groups work so well: Not because they provide all the answers, but because they normalize the questions.

"I've been there."

"That happened to me too."

"I don't know what's next either."

This pulls isolation out of uncertainty and into community.

Rehearsing for Real Life

There's a misconception that improvisation teaches people to be funny. No doubt, it can help us to create funny situations -- especially when we’re playing honestly, listening at our highest level, and responding with “yes, and.” In fact, it’s a given that we’re going to laugh in every Jam for Joy class, sometimes deeper laughs than we’ve experienced in a long time.

But what it really teaches is the values of flexibility, curiosity, listening, adaptation and resilience. We build the confidence to keep taking the next step without knowing exactly where it leads.

Improv doesn’t remove uncertainty, it helps us build a healthier relationship with it.

The goal isn't certainty – it’s trust. Trust that we can handle what comes next, that we'll figure it out together, and that even when the script disappears, the story can still be beautiful.

Maybe that's what "Yes, And" has been trying to teach us all along: The opposite of intolerance of uncertainty isn't certainty, it's connection. And connection is medicine. 

Join us for online improvisation on Tuesdays at 10a and Thursdays at 4p - all times pacific.