The Importance of Play

For the past three weeks, I've been following the program Julia Cameron sets out in her book, The Artist's Way.  It's billed as "A Course in Discovering and Recovering Your Creative Self."  Now, why I'm doing it, I'm not entirely sure -- on the whole, I feel like I've discovered my Creative Self, and have little I need to recover from.  Still, I've heard great things from various people about the course and the book, so I figured, "Sure, why not?"

Now, to be fair, I'm not going whole-hog on the thing.  There are tasks about writing letters to your former self or to people who may have blocked you creatively in the past (and then, of course, not mailing the letters) that I'm just not doing.  I'm not keeping up with the Creative Affirmations like I should.  I'm not so much swimming deep in the waters as taking a comfortable ride down the river on a spacious paddle boat -- I get to see the scenery and appreciate the beauty without all the effort of actually swimming.

I started the program the last day of school, which means I ought to get through most of the twelve-week program before the little ones show back up in mid-August.  Right now, I'm starting "Week 4: Recovering a Sense of Integrity."  This is the week of "Reading Deprivation" (evidently creative folk tend to turn to other people's words as a form of escape, drowning out the voices of inspiration in our head) wherein I'm not supposed to read ... well, anything.  I'm not applying it to drastically important emails (with the Raleigh Ringers concert in 5 days and me being the main contact, I can't exactly do that) or any writing I'm working on myself (second book of The Sadonian Chronicles), but I'm trying to be good about all the rest.  Ironically, that means that while I can write this blog post, once it's published, I can't read it, at least until next Wednesday.

Now usually, of an evening, I'll sit with my wife in the living room, and we'll watch some TV (right now we're in the middle of re-watching the 3rd season of Lost) while I dabble on the computer and check out various sites and blogs.  Occasionally I'll have a book beside me and I'll read.  We even have subtitles on the TV screen (though, to be fair, right now they're in Spanish as we try to learn that language together). 

For the next seven days, that's all off.  I can't sit and read websites, I can't progress in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets either (rereading it, for about the 5th or 6th time).  What will I do?

I'm a fairly obsessive and compulsive person, normally.  If I'm not working on one thing, I'm working on something else.  Anytime I'm doing anything, a deep part of me needs to feel that it's accomplishing something useful, moving me forward in some way.  One side benefit of this program (and this week in particular) is that I'm going to have to remember how to play.

Do you remember playing?  I'm not talking sports or music (though those are good, too), but when you were a kid, and the sun was high overhead and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the trees, and you'd go running out the screen door and shout over your shoulder to your mother, "I'm gonna go play!"  You had no idea what you were going to do, just that you were going to "go play". 

I've tried to get back that sense of play these past few weeks, at least in some small way.  Instead of spending every waking moment on one of my jobs or creative pursuits, or something related to one of my jobs or creative pursuits, I've started doing things that have nothing to do with any of them, things that won't (expressly) move my career forward: 

I've spent some time playing video games (something I did quite a lot as a child and a teen, and something I've done less and less as Real Life has crept in and taken over). 

I've started drawing with colored pencils.  I'm not great (I've discovered I can do mountain ranges really well -- everything else, not so much), but it's been fun filling an 11" x 18" piece of paper with streaks of color that actually look, somewhat, like something. 

I've even started spending more time with my cats, just petting and playing and talking (Marcus doesn't say much, but he always nods knowingly at all the right times).

So often we get caught up in being Responsible Adults that we forget how to play.  It doesn't have to be big, or drastic, or expensive, but playing -- doing something just to do it, whether or not there are any practical benefits to doing it -- can be wonderfully liberating.  It frees the mind and the soul, and shows us that not every move, every action, every step we take has to have a well-defined meaning.  We can do things for the sheer experience of doing them.  It's these experiences that our minds and souls combine and build, mix and meld, ferment and foment into the works of art we create.

Spend some time today just playing.  Think of something you did as a child that you haven't done in a while ... then go do it, even if on a vastly limited scale.  Get in touch with the child inside -- or at least that child's playful side -- and just see where the experience of playing takes you. 

Remember the lesson we all learned from watching The Shining (which my wife and I watched last week -- the book is better; way better): "All work an no play makes Jack want to attack his family with an axe."

Or something like that ...