February 5th
February 5th
I started on some art work for the game, with Gregorian chant playing in the background – very soothing. I still have to keep inviting you in, Jesus: I flip to shutting everything out so easily.
I’m making playing pieces for my game. And it got me thinking about play itself.
I know it matters. I know it’s essential. As essential as story. And I’ve never had a problem doing it, never had a problem playing. Which is probably partly why I was more attracted to primary school teaching than secondary, I guess!
So what I’m wondering is: what happens to our hearts, to our souls, when we are denied permission to play? Is this one of the open doors to adult addictions? You can’t have that child-like play any more (even though, Jesus, you said we have to receive the kingdom of heaven like a little child?).
And adult play looks different. I don’t play with my dolls any more, Rob doesn’t build a weather station in an old shoe box, complete with Stevenson screen. He built a summer house instead, from piles of lumber.
I sew dolls’ clothes. But it’s play. It’s joy, it’s creative and it’s non-essential. It stretches our imagination and delights us more than it frustrates us and builds new skills in us which is what true play always does.
Permission to play. Hmmm. Is withholding that from ourselves is a bit like saying you don’t have permission to eat: you have to starve yourself? What happens to my soul when I say no to play? I rather think it grabs for anything it can get to fill the gap.
So I guess the other question I need to ask is: what does good play look like? And it's going to be different for each person, isn't it? Every child plays differently... I think we need to put this in the next marriage prep that we do for someone: How are you going to put play into your lives?
I’m making playing pieces for my game. And it got me thinking about play itself.
I know it matters. I know it’s essential. As essential as story. And I’ve never had a problem doing it, never had a problem playing. Which is probably partly why I was more attracted to primary school teaching than secondary, I guess!
So what I’m wondering is: what happens to our hearts, to our souls, when we are denied permission to play? Is this one of the open doors to adult addictions? You can’t have that child-like play any more (even though, Jesus, you said we have to receive the kingdom of heaven like a little child?).
And adult play looks different. I don’t play with my dolls any more, Rob doesn’t build a weather station in an old shoe box, complete with Stevenson screen. He built a summer house instead, from piles of lumber.
Permission to play. Hmmm. Is withholding that from ourselves is a bit like saying you don’t have permission to eat: you have to starve yourself? What happens to my soul when I say no to play? I rather think it grabs for anything it can get to fill the gap.
So I guess the other question I need to ask is: what does good play look like? And it's going to be different for each person, isn't it? Every child plays differently... I think we need to put this in the next marriage prep that we do for someone: How are you going to put play into your lives?
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