Bring Play to Your Day!
Just for the fun of it
Are you getting enough play in your day?
If you’re spending time with children, the answer is probably yes. Everything is play when you’re younger than 10. Even shopping and cooking can have lighthearted aspects when a child is involved. When my kids were young, in the supermarket I’d suggest we get one new item we haven’t yet tried. In the kitchen, they were either snipping beans or reading books to me while I was at the stove. (Now that they’ve flown the nest, Audible supplies the narration I crave.)
If you have a pet, you’re probably playing with it some of the time. When I visit friends with felines, I find cat toys especially gratifying, as the cats really respond. Dogs provide another avenue for play. When I took care of my mom’s Tibetan terrier, Bertie, making the bed was a hoot! He would jump on the bed and mock-growl at me; I’d chase him off, and he’d leap up again until I shook him off with the sheet. Up he’d bound again: “Grrr, grrr!”
My own dog, Theo, is now 13 years old and isn’t very playful anymore. He ignores his dog toys. When I take him to the dog park, he doesn’t frisk and play. He tolerates other dogs sniffing him, but with one exception, our neighbor’s dog, he doesn’t engage with other canines. Of course, we still love our Theo, but I miss the vicarious pleasure he’d give me when he’d run with the other dogs and wrestle one the ground. He’d put his teeth to its neck and never bite and after a few seconds he’d let go and they would both bound away, ready for the next round. Just watching this play was satisfying; I suppose my mirror neurons were firing. (But was I the dog on the ground or the one at its neck?)
If you spend much of your time with adults, or alone, you may not be getting enough playtime, and you may be missing out. I wish I could say the following in a charmingly playful manner, for it seems antithetical to the very subject to analyze why play is important.
After all, play is valuable partly because it isn’t important; what you do when you play has little consequence. Whether it’s a board game, a ping-pong game, or a word game, there are usually no stakes involved, and that’s very freeing. The fun of going to a wine-and-paint or candle-making event is that as an utter neophyte you don’t have to prove yourself; you can play with your materials and just have fun.
That was one reason why I enjoyed taking part in the Poetry Marathon a couple of weeks ago: it felt like a wonderful and inconsequential game. My poems wouldn’t be judged, and I had to produce them at such a great rate (one an hour) that I had no time to judge them. This was very liberating.
You don’t have to enroll in a poetry marathon to stimulate creativity. A lot of play involves “let’s pretend,” which can lead to ideas for stories, novels, plays, movies, video games. Many great artists, such as Picasso, were known for their playful, even childlike, manner, especially in their later years. Indeed, painting with the spontaneity and directness of a child was part of Picasso’s aesthetic. He said, “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
Play also heightens social connection. Whether it’s bridge or bocci, play usually involves other people. Most of us, I think, want more connection, which organized play provides, in the form of partners, team-mates and opponents.
Play relieves stress. Absorbed in cat’s cradle or the building game Jenga, you’re not worried about the state of the world or the state of your portfolio. Play helps you relax and reconnects you to joy.
When my grandkids aren’t around for sand castles and tea parties, I consciously try to incorporate play into my day—or at least approach things in a playful manner.
Entering the water from the beach, I pretend I have an audience, so even if it’s cold, I walk smoothly into the water until it reaches my bathing suit. Then I count one, two, three, and I dive! After all, there’s the same shock at that first immersion whether you wait three minutes, jumping and shivering, or dive in at once. My imaginary audience applauds my bravery.
My analogue watch has a second hand, and I find myself timing all manner of things. When I’m driving, instead of cursing the red light, I time it, and somehow this very act makes me resent the light less. I time unpleasant chores and try for ever-shorter times. I time car alarms.
Chipmunks are stealing birdseed from our feeder, cramming their capacious cheeks and leaving little for the birds. Our chipmunks are sassy and bold, so I got two water pistols. Why two? So it would be more playful, with two people squirting at the rodents. It doesn’t really keep them away, but we have fun pretending that it does and deciding who got the best hit.
A friend of mine counts how many Teslas she sees in a day. Her record is 53.
How do you bring play to your day?
The way I bring play to my day? Reading The Pleasure Principle. And then acting on your three great ideas. Time to walk down to the beach and fearlessly stride into the cold water!
Play should be defined broadly, probably linked by being "in the moment." Apart from grandkids and dog walking and cat stroking, I would argue that sports are an excellent form of play especially when they are competitive. Others are movies, live performances and other cultural events, as long as you can park your everyday preoccupations at the door. Play should be as much mental as physical. I dont do much of it, but perhaps daydreaming should be included too. It is quite different from doom scrolling, of course. That is daynightmaring.