Play a Little
I have a morning routine — well, sort of.
Wash my face, lie on the floor with Ralph (the dog), take Ralph out, make a pot of tea, read a chapter from a book, drink the tea, get to work.
This is, almost without fail, my favourite part of the day. I’m floating in time, sitting in something devoid of pressure. Yet, as the end of my chapter approaches or my pot of tea nears its final cup I often feel tension build in my chest. It suggests, “make a choice” and asks, “where do we start?” Then another instinct takes over and I reach for my phone or open my computer. When I tune into the thought that accompanies the almost habitual action of reaching for a distraction, I’m discovering a voice that whispers something like, “don’t think about that” or quite simply “nope!”
Today, as I transitioned out of reading and tea to whatever was to come next, another thought struck me, “what if next didn’t have to be (immediately?) productive?”
I’m certainly not the first person to have this thought, nor is it the first time that I’ve had it myself, but a reminder seems important today. The word that hits me next, to guide the not-immediately-productive, is “play.” Again, let’s not overdo a sense of revelation here, the notion of finding a bit more play in our lives isn’t exactly obscure or original, but it has been a long time since I’ve really checked in on the status of my own levels of play.
To begin I’ll just say that, without thinking too hard, I’m going to use a real quick sense of “play” as being something that has no particular instrumental purpose. This means that an activity like “playing the piano” could be considered “play” depending on the motivation. If it’s motivated by a deep desire to put together a concert that I sell tickets to, I’ll put that in a different category (I won’t call it “work” necessarily, but it carries a different sense than “play”), but if it’s a little more free and productive-less I’ll let it be play.
So where is play in my life right now?
At the counter when I cook dinner — when I make an effort to build something tasty on the fly, when I follow a new recipe, and when I learn a new technique.
On the couch when I read a book in the morning — when the book is allowed to wash over me instead of immediately feeding a project on the go.
In the kitchen when my body starts moving to the music — when my “dance” moves are just too much for Ralph and he shows his excitement in a very dog-like way.
At the computer when I type without thinking too hard — when I let the words hit the screen without worrying too much about structure or audience or product.
What strikes me about this list is that “play” isn’t too present in some of the playful-looking activities that occupy my mind — sports, music, songwriting, filmmaking, etc. — nor is it all that present in the work-looking activities that shape most of my days. It seems to me that the space for play is being swallowed by a focus on tasks, outputs, and products — songwriting becomes about making an album, running becomes about making a training plan, coaching becomes about sending that overdue invoice, etc. None of these motivations are necessarily in opposition to the presence of “play” or “playfulness” but it feels to me like I might want to let play live among the strategic motivation to “get back to songwriting” or “get back to training” or “get on top of things at work.”
It’s presence might just ease the transition to “whatever comes next.” It might even infuse “whatever comes next” with the energy to see it through.