I didn’t know the color of the house I lived in.

For years I thought it was one color: beige. Then a few years ago, my whole family signed the pledge for Screen Free Week at my kids’ elementary school. We put away all the devices for the week, aside from using my work computer at my desk and GPS in my car (I can’t be without screens and a sense of direction.) A few days into this somewhat painful experience, I was walking up to my front door and that’s when I saw it: my house. It was not simply beige. It wasn’t one color at all. It was two colors: a beige and a darker brown/green/grey. I was shocked. I had invested a lot of money into this house, had it inspected, thought and overthought about the purchase, but I had never really seen what color (or colors) it was. Until now.

This wasn’t the outcome I was expecting or even looking for when I took a break from my phone. Somehow, within days, my awareness and perception was altered and I could see things more as they were, not glossing over the details of the world I lived in. Ever since this revelation, I’ve been a little obsessed with attention. My time and my attention are my most valuable resources. Yet it feels like the powers that be are nudging me all the time to waste it. I’ve been struck by conversations about the attention economy and this year I finally read How To Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy by Jenny Odell.

Improv is the practice of focusing your attention on the moment and your fellow players. It’s the act of nurturing a positive and present attention.

In a Facebook post in 2016, master improviser and author of Jill Bernard’s Small Cute Book of Improv wrote:

“I saw this sign that said, “Never leave child unattended” and I began thinking about what it means to attend someone. I wondered if it would help me in improv scenes. I “listen” to my partner, I hear what they say and interpret it and absorb it and let it affect me, but what is the next step? Can I attend to my scene partner? To be present for them, pay attention to them, care for them, and treat them like royalty — to be there in my little improv suit like a Downton Abbey servant, ready to make their offers into reality? It seems like a good goal perhaps. Another image for the goal of “make your partner look good”.”

This struck me. Children need attention. I know mine do. So does my improv scene partner. And my career, my health, a million other things. It’s exhausting. But Jill reframes paying attention to someone as the most luxurious of gifts. To attend them: focusing on them, hanging back if not needed, but ready to step in and support when they are flagging. A bathroom attendant. A wedding attendant. A royal attendant. A flight attendant.

This is a special skill of readiness, eagerness, competence, poise. All skills of expert improvisers.

For most of us, our attention is generally focused on ourselves. A big part of beginning improv classes is working on retraining your focus onto others. A good example is the Danish Name Tag Game. In this game, a group of students each stand next to a partner. When your partner’s name is called, you must run and escape your partner. When your name is called you must tag your partner before they escape. Hilarity ensues when people inevitably start running when their name is called, making it easy for their partner to win the round. The intense responsiveness to one’s own name is hard to overcome. It’s only with focused practice that reacting to someone else’s name can become natural.

As the school year starts, my family is working to wrestle our attention back from all our screens. I’ve asked around on social media, updated screen time settings, deleted apps, and bargained with the boys. I’ve switched to my long awaited Light Phone 3 and promptly declared total defeat two weeks later. Side note: anyone want to buy a slightly used Light Phone 3?

Now that I have two middle schoolers, we have three times as many screens, plus algorithms that are siren calls constantly luring us back to those sweet devices. I’ve given up on using the tools created by companies that profit off of our children’s attention. I find them extremely lacking. So, I’ve bought a giant charging station lock box and a special digital lock (operated by my smartphone of course) to put every personal device away at night and during family time on the weekends. Well wishes, thoughts, and prayers are welcome.

Let me know how you are protecting your attention. What’s working for you?