Regarding work, sometimes it becomes obvious that the only thing to do is not to do anything. There’s only one course of action: play time.
If you’re like me, by the time you’ve hit this zone of aching eyeballs and synaptic meltdown, you’ve already skirted many an internal sensor going off telling you — begging you! — to take a break and do it now.
So I’m thinking about this and I run in to tell Zane that we’re going on a bike ride in 40 minutes. Then I log into The World Is Freaky Beautiful to start this very article — and I can’t get in. There’s something nefarious going on, subterranean. Maintenance they like to call it.
So apparently I am being told by the network . . . to play.
Most of you know you should. Most of you want to, more often. So for those who need a reminder — or permission — just do it: Go out and play!
If it’s electronic it doesn’t count.
I’ve long understood this, that people who have playful lives are more fulfilled. I’ve watched my brother do this for years. Even when he’d be working hard, say demolishing a wall in a house, he’d make it fun. And like Tom Sawyer, get others to join in. He’ll give a kid a sledgehammer and let them at it.
While rehabbing our home we did the same thing with Zane when we took down a wall — let him at it — which he attacked with ferocity — until exhaustion (and asbestos).
Think of Richard Branson. Or Oprah. (But not together! Ewww.) Don’t they feel like they’re getting jiggy with the game of life? Or the Rat Pack. Those boys had fun.
A happy life is just a string of happy moments. But most people don’t allow the happy moment, because they’re so busy trying to get a happy life.
I know this. But I don’t do it nearly enough. So today I am — the universe has spoken.
See you on the playground–