*nod to Robert Frost

This is from one of my favorite non-fiction books.

“and engage fully with the world. I don’t think it is too much to say that play can save your life. It certainly has salvaged mine. Life without play is a grinding, mechanical existence organized around doing the things necessary for survival. Play is the stick that stirs the drink. It is the basis of all art, games, books, sports, movies, fashion, fun, and wonder—in short, the basis of what we think of as civilization. Play is the vital essence of life. It is what makes life lively.”
― Stuart Brown, Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul

One of my intentions for this month is getting out. I’m not talking about going to the store or running an errand , I’m thinking of something less defined and more akin to the wandering explorations that I enjoyed so much in my past. A small adventure in a bit of time and space where serendipity is cordially invited along for the journey. In other words, I need a play break. The trouble with that is, I think I have forgotten how to play. I can go places and do things but that’s not the same as play. I have been quite busy right here in my house. There’s always more things to do than there are hours. Being busy is not play. Every child doing chores knows that.

It’s easier to be gentle in our hearts and light in our steps when we’re not focused solely on mundane tasks. Where’s the impetus to share joy when we labor without it ourselves? How do we love our neighbor if we cannot take a moment to love ourselves enough to stop and marvel at what we have wrought? If we don’t look up we will miss the rainbow and if we don’t pause in silence we cannot hear the soft sounds of life around us. So how do we as grownups play in this world where work is the baseline?

All of my old ways of play are passed. I am much changed since December 2019. I find I am wishing for a piano. A great wooden creation with strings and hammers, keys and pedals, that has its own solid presence. Or a set of drums would fit the mood. Mind you it would only be fun for me, since I have no background in drumming. This changeling me left by some Fae humorist during the pandemic, doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror anymore. I think that might be a problem for many more people than just me. After so much loss, after years clearing the ashes, how do we identify joy when nothing remains of the past?

We can move on and act as if nothing happened. I see that all around me. People attempting to recreate their old lives as though the people, places, and things that went away can be reassembled out of memory. I lost people, whole families, pets, and groups of friends. They can’t be duplicated. I am not pursuing that path because I’m not the person I was before they went away into the west.

I wish to follow the pathways of the real world, the world of rocks and dirt, sun, moon, trees and stars more than the digital world. I would walk the paths of home and not call to temptation. I think that’s where joy is hiding. It’s just over that small hill, or maybe behind the fallen tree. Myths used to take place deep in the woods, elves and fairies that could cast glamours that lured the unwary into oblivion. Now the digital landscape is the place of myths, glamours, and souls lost to illusion. Walk there with care, make no deals, accept no gifts, do not eat or drink what is offered and carry cold iron just in case.

I’ve spent the last few days feeling echoes of the long ago. I feel the echoes but I am not who I was. As I continue to change the past slowly loses its hold on me. What used to ride on my shoulder every day now shows up once a year lest I forget the roots of who I am today.

I do still love dancing and music. That’s a start.