The world spun in a familiar, yet unsettling, routine. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, each one a monotonous echo of the last. I'd attend friend's gatherings, a smile plastered on my face while my mind churned with anxieties, past and future, casting a dark shadow over the supposed merriment. Even solitary moments, intended for relaxation, were hijacked by a relentless inner critic, dissecting every misstep and future worry.
This realization dawned upon me, sharp and unwelcome, like a discordant note in a familiar melody. Years had slipped by, filled with obligatory "fun" devoid of genuine joy. The present moment, a fleeting butterfly, constantly eluded my grasp, lost in the labyrinth of regrets and anxieties.
The catalyst for change arrived unexpectedly, disguised as a small business venture. The weight of responsibility, the constant pressure to succeed, forced me to confront my inability to "be present." I craved an outlet, a refuge from the relentless mental chatter. It was then I understood the profound truth: I had forgotten how to play.
This realization, though initially daunting, became the spark that ignited a journey of rediscovery. I embarked on a quest to reclaim the lost art of play, a quest that, I soon discovered, was not unique to me. Many of us, burdened by the weight of obligations and the rigid structures of our childhood, had lost touch with the inherent joy of simply being present and engaged in the moment.
The first step on this journey was rediscovering what truly sparked joy. It felt absurd, almost childish, to embark on such a basic mission. Yet, the memory of unbridled enthusiasm, the laughter that bubbled up from the depths of my being, was a distant memory.
My quest took me on an exploration of forgotten pathways – toy stores, art supply shops, the children's section of the library. Each aisle whispered forgotten tales of unadulterated joy, each shelf brimming with possibilities. This wasn't about mindless indulgence, but rather a gentle nudge towards stepping outside my comfort zone, towards rediscovering the forgotten language of play.
Memories, too, offered valuable clues. I delved into the treasure trove of my childhood, unearthing fragments of pure joy – the thrill of field trips, the magic of imaginative play. These snippets became stepping stones, guiding me towards rebuilding the bridge to a life infused with genuine enjoyment.
Scheduling "playtime" felt ridiculous at first. Who, after all, needs to schedule fun? Yet, for those of us who had become conditioned to prioritize obligations over joy, this seemingly trivial act became a powerful statement of intent. It was a commitment to myself, a promise to reclaim the lost art of living in the present moment.
The initial sessions were fraught with self-doubt. The fear of judgment, both real and imagined, loomed large. But as I embraced the activity, the critic's voice faded, replaced by the simple joy of the moment. The act of coloring, once a forgotten childhood pastime, became a portal to a world of mindfulness and creative exploration.
Sharing this rediscovered joy with others was the natural next step. Play, I realized, wasn't meant to be a solitary pursuit. It was meant to be shared, a tapestry woven from laughter, connection, and the shared experience of creating something together, be it a masterpiece or a humble papier-mâché creation.
This journey is far from over. New discoveries about myself and the world of play continue to unfold. A video project with friends, complete with a jet-ski rental, promises an adventure filled with laughter and shared experiences.
Learning to play, I've discovered, is more than just having fun. It's about embracing the present moment, silencing the inner critic, and rediscovering the joy that lies dormant within each of us. It's about allowing our inner child to breathe, to create, and to experience the world with a sense of wonder. And that, no matter what age you are, is a truly transformative experience.
NEAL LLOYD
