Play
“It’s
the things we play with and the people who help us play that make a great
difference in our lives.”
Fred
Rogers
Do you
ever hit the doldrums? That stage when you can’t move forward and can’t go
back? Back in the winter, I identified six pieces of wooden furniture I wanted
to paint as soon as the weather warmed up. So, it’s now August, and I still
haven’t painted any of them—because now it’s too hot. I think the problem may
be that I am just too lazy. And I want to brush paint on canvas instead of
furniture.
One
thing people don’t tell you about old age is that it is a return to childhood
in more ways than simple-mindedness (not that I think children are simple-minded—most
of the ones that I know are scarily smart). But the work of children is play,
and in the retirement years, we return to that. Right now, there are dust-and-dog-hair
bunnies the size of ostrich eggs running down my hallway, and the floors are
woefully in need of mopping. And underneath the beds—well, never mind about
that. What I do all day is paint canvases and sew. In other words, I play.
Retirement
years are so precious to me simply because I now have time to play. Some people
spend them traveling, but I’m not inclined to do that. Some people read books
all day. Some people play golf or hike the backwoods. I am a worker bee, not an
exotic dragon fly. I love turning out a product. It’s like when bumble bees
gather those huge pollen sacks on their legs and then fly back to the hive.
What a great feeling—more honey for us! The other day, I almost stuck my nose
on a bee inside a hollyhock bloom—it was so covered in pollen I didn’t
recognize it until it backed out and flew away. I’d so much rather be smelling
hollyhocks than mopping floors, wouldn’t you?
Here’s
what I believe about play at any age—it is essential because it makes the rest
of life more bearable. When I am playing, I don’t think about the aches and
pains of old age. I don’t worry about what sort of world future generations
will inherit, or who will be the next president. I don’t wonder where the next
war will be or whether our cities will be underwater from climate change. Play
is absorbing. It requires focus and concentration. None of those things I
mentioned will disappear, but for a little while, I won’t be concerned about them.
I may
never again have a spotless house. My furniture may never get painted. I sat
down on the couch yesterday and my behind almost hit the floor—the springs are
all worn out and in need of replacement. Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I’m
too busy playing to go furniture shopping. And besides, that painting I’m doing
of the stone bridge over the river—it still needs to be finished.
At this life stage, play
is my soul work. What is yours? Are you able to give yourself over to play at
least now and then? Will you go to your grave overworked and exhausted? Or will
your loved ones say, “She/he taught us how to play. And that made all the
difference.”
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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