The Importance of Play

I have a weird question, but bear with me: When was the last time you played? Can you remember? What does play look like for you? Does the thought of playing or even having fun make you feel uncomfortable or irresponsible? Does it give you a sense of yearning? Or are you not sure how you feel about it?

I ask because with life being as chaotic and stressful as it has been, when we as a collective seem to be squeezed out of levity like the flattest toothpaste tubes and highly anxious – justifiably so –  the need for lightness is crucial, now more than ever. Our spirits sense when there is too much heaviness, I think, and when we have been imbalanced in gloom for too long, that it’s important to seek out or make cracks where the light can get in. Just like a diet that’s hyper-focused on one main ingredient to the exclusion of variety will eventually lead to malnutrition, even if that one thing seems healthy and valuable, some diversity and range within us helps us to flourish.

I have been thinking about this lately because, as I said, the world has been so sad and fraught and so have I. Even as a longtime activist, though, my emotional ecosystem needs to play. As I have learned, this internal drive for lightheartedness can paint one as a shallow person. I fought against my own need for play for years because what kind of serious writer or thinker or just human being prioritizes play, especially as an adult, when there is so much suffering? Over time, thankfully I learned that there is no amount of walling yourself off from daylight that can relieve someone else’s darkness. Life just doesn’t work like that. It is about balance, right? I would no sooner want to be a nonstop hedonist than I would want to be a consistently enjoyment-denying scold. Neither seems balanced, healthy or like me.

I think that having some fun and play makes you a complete person, and one who’s in good company. Consider Emma Goldman, as dedicated an activist for human rights and liberation as they come, who has been paraphrased* as saying, “If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be part of your revolution.” Prioritizing levity in the midst of darkness also means you are less likely to burn out.

In reflecting on my own history, I realize that play was always something I felt an affinity for but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t strained at times. My first word was “light.” Being able to make people laugh was one of my most reliable protective measures. Just Wednesday, finally getting my REAL ID, I tried to make the lady at the DMV crack a smile because that is my default mode. (Mission decidedly unaccomplished, but not for a lack of trying.) I know from personal experience that people who like to play can get characterized as not very bright, superficial, ditzy, chronically immature. (Are guys called ‘ditzes,’ too?) If you are passionate about social justice, though, you get called buzzkill. If you’re someone who loves both fun and social justice activism, you might even be able to thread that needle and manage to be considered a zany killjoy. It’s a feat to pull off, to be sure, but I’ve done it.

In thinking about play, I have to remember Miss Wanda in seventh grade teaching us about the difference between being childish and child-like. Miss Wanda explained that being called childish is an insult, meaning that someone is immature, petty, self-absorbed, not very advanced. Child-like, however, is an entirely different batch of positive adjectives, despite the implication from the first word that we don’t think much of children in general. In contrast to childishness, Miss Wanda explained that someone who is child-like is curious, delightful, enthusiastic, unselfconscious and free-spirited. I can remember some deeply serious children when I was in grade school, including some of my closest friends, but not many who didn’t like to laugh just a little. (As someone who likes to play, I can tell you there is not much that is more fulfilling than making a serious person smile or laugh, as evidenced by my attempt at the DMV.)

In thinking about it, it’s no wonder. I had the great fortune of growing up in the 1970s on a block abundant with kids my age. We took dance and gymnastics classes, yes, but did not have our days scheduled to the minute. I was part of a generation that enjoyed ample unsupervised outdoor play, and playing games was an essential part of it. I’m not talking about board games, though we played those (I think I have a permanent case of jumpiness from Operation), but outdoor games. It’s been so many years, but the memories of  games like Ghost in the Graveyard, Freeze Tag, Mother May I, Red Rover and Simon Says are indelible, implanted for a lifetime. There was also Double Dutch and Chinese Jump Rope, Hopscotch and Leapfrog, hand-clapping games like Mary Mack, and assorted games like Follow the Leader, Keep Away and London Bridge. There were also just the pranking games like Ding Dong Ditch (called Knock Knock Ginger in the U.K.). We spent the summers climbing trees, having tea parties (on land and on the pool floor), playing Charlie’s Angels, or just making mud pies. In other words, I grew up in a halcyon era of play, just how all children should. No wonder I am still so fond of it.

As adults, play looks different for us than it did as children. We’re not necessarily playing Duck Duck Goose and who knows what a robust session of Red Rover could do to our wrists. As we age, play becomes a little broader to encompass more activities. Fun is a close cousin of play. Catherine Price, author of The Power of Fun: How to Feel Alive Again (which I loved and highly recommend) doesn’t so much offer a definition as the components that are usually present in what she calls “true fun”: They are overlapping states of playfulness, connection and flow. Playfulness meaning that you’re lighthearted. Connection meaning that you are having a shared experience and also that you are part of something larger. Flow meaning that you are not distracted, that you are present in the moment, that you have a feeling of timelessness. These are the three ingredients almost always present in what she defines as true fun.

Now, play looks different for everyone. Play for one person would be a snooze for another. Some might find taking a motor apart and putting it back together with a friend to be a fun way to play. Others might find that their favorite kind of play is physical: Going for a rock climb, a bike ride or roller skating. There are, in fact, eight different adult “play personalities” as identified by Dr. Stuart Brown in his book, Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul, though many of us have a few we’re aligned most with: The Collector; the Competitor; the Creator/Artist; the Director; the Explorer; the Joker; the Kinesthete; and the Storyteller. (You can take a free test to get a sense of your preferences, along with descriptions of these broad types – no email required.) 

I have a list on my desktop of things I can do and places I can go to play. I have it color coded with a key into “free or low cost” as well as “easy” (meaning I can run off and do it at a moment’s notice) to experiences that require more planning. I add to it when I think of more things and then it becomes a resource for me at those times when I need ideas for more levity in my life.

Some things on my easy list:

Play with my animals on the floor.
Go on the swings at the neighborhood park. 
Run through a sprinkler.
Play hopscotch.
Build a snow person.
Go to a pool.
Meet up with or call my bestest, funniest friend.
Bake bread.
Go to the beach. (Build a sandcastle for extra credit.)
Go to my favorite woods.
Take a nice drive with my husband.
Listen to my happy music playlist.
Sketch.
Write short stories.
Have a spa night at home.
Host a popsicle or ice cream sundae bar party.
Play dress up with your fanciest clothes.

Some things on my list that are more of a time, money and/or planning investment:

Spend a weekend away.
Go on a road trip.
Go to a water park.
Take a class on an interest (Belly dance! Pottery! Voice!)
Go kayaking.

Play matters because our happiness matters. If we let ourselves burn out or get depressed by starving ourselves of light and levity, what good does that do in the world?

Now I’d love for you to think about it: What do you do to play? How important is play in your life? What do you think about the concept of playing as an adult? What lights you up when you think about it as a play option? What was your favorite way to play as a child? What might that look like today? How do you expect to feel when you’re playing? How can you incorporate play more regularly in your life? 

XO -

Marla

* According to historians, Emma Goldman did not write this exact line in any of her books, essays or speeches, but I believe the popular paraphrasing, while apocryphal, is a decent summation. In Living My Life, her 1931 memoir, Goldman recounts how she was once accused of being frivolous while dancing at a party. According to Goldman, her chastiser took her to task, saying that “it did not behoove an agitator to dance. Certainly not with such reckless abandon, anyway.” Recounting it, she wrote, “I did not believe that a Cause which stood for a beautiful ideal, for anarchism, for release and freedom from convention and prejudice, should demand the denial of life and joy. I insisted that our Cause could not expect me to become a nun and that the movement would not be turned into a cloister. If it meant that, I did not want it.”