Hi, it’s me, Steve, not a character. I have an essay here that I wrote about play that I thought would be interesting to read during a show called re:play. I mean, the titles are almost the same. What are the odds?
If you are paying attention, you will notice that the title of the show has a little bit of punctuation between the syllables: re (colon) play. You might have thought that it was a typo or a design element or something super clever–and it really isn’t any of those things. As many of you know, I spent several years roaming the hallowed halls of the academy–and in particular romping around the ivory tower of the English Language and Literature department. Okay, I wasn’t really in the ivory tower, but more like the shed out back behind the ivory tower. But still, in those locales, there was a time when you couldn’t write an article without resorting to some sort of showy linguistic acrobatics –and where this often showed up was in the title. You would split a word in half or add a little bit in parentheses in the middle of the word so that it would carry multiple meanings at once and break down the ways words mean. This is called graphic punning or paronomasia, or Derridean wordplay. It was the wild deconstructive west with language. I don’t know how many articles talked about re-slash-vision or wri (parentheses gh) ting, Re hyphen member, in(parentheses ter) vention, So for this show, it is re (colon) play. This is both a “replay” of previous shows and meals, as well as a show about play (re: –as in regarding– play). So probably too clever by half.
But I did want to talk about play.
Play gets a bad rep. I mean we know that all work and no play will make Jack a dull boy, but you get the sense that it is the play that is the extra dash to the recipe. It isn’t the dish itself. Without play, Jack may be dull, but he still is putting food on the table.
But I think this is getting it wrong.
Play is so much more than just fooling around or spicing things up a little. Instead, play is creation. Play is creativity. Play is imagination. Play is where we can explore what is possible–and really, probably more importantly, what is impossible. It’s almost like we can’t imagine what can be possible without the space to play around with what is impossible.
Think of those moments when you were younger–before people told you what you couldn’t and shouldn’t and mustn’t do. Was there a box that became something magical–a castle, a spaceship, a robot, another world? Was there a moment when you were all alone and you became someone else? A rock star belting out one heck of a solo? An action adventure hero saving the world from destruction? A great author who just wrote the second best epic poem? (Maybe that was just me). What was the impossible for you to play with?
Our current climate doesn’t seem to really encourage play for the sake of play. We sign our kids up for structured activities, invest in coaches and camps, worry about the economic value of that time and training. When I was teaching, I would sometimes ask students to “play around with a piece of writing” without fear of failure or assessment. Many of them really struggled with this type of task because they had been conditioned to worry about the grade or to question whether this would be on the final or to demand how this act would translate to their career goals. Play was a tough sell for them because you couldn’t major in play, couldn’t get a job with the title Vice President of Play. They were uncertain how there could be a grading rubric surrounding play.
They were missing the whole point. I don’t blame them. This lack of playfulness, if you will, if everywhere.
I wonder what things would be like if we had more play. Sure, there are ping pong tables at Silicon Valley start-ups, but I’m thinking even more. What if we spent hours of each day playing? Imagine that world.
My only hope is that this God-awful, super disconcerting, AI-revolution will give us more time to play, but I’m worried that only the billionaire class will get the time to leave work behind and spend more time on play.
Speaking of the billionaire class….
You can sometimes see this sense of play at protests against a long list of injustices because protesters know that one of the things that play can do is challenge our assumption and act as a great leveler. If there aren’t rules in play (or at least minimal rules), then anyone can act like they own the place. They can be kingmakers, universe destroyers, captains of industry–if that thing does it for you, or just a happy little bumblebee. And at the same time, I can pretend that the real kingmakers, universe destroyers, and captains of industry are just dust mites or balloon animals.
Play isn’t just a diversion. It is a necessity for thriving–in the Aristotelian sense. For us to live our best lives, we need to play. I hate the notion that this type of play can only happen after we meet every other requirement of life. The wonderful thing about play is that you can do it for free. Or with a leftover box if you need a nudge.
It is, of course, no coincidence that we talk about a theatrical performance with the same language: I’m going to go see a play. And while those plays can often be tightly scripted and driven by economics, at their core, they are about a certain magical sense of possibility that emerges from a dark room and an empty space.
One of the things that I find so powerful about play is how it doesn’t really last. Good play doesn’t need to have a finished product. It can leave us with a feeling and a memory.
And on a much less serious note, play can just be fun. And God knows, we need fun. There is so much pain and suffering and abuse and despair and fear. Can we carve out a little space for play? Not to ignore our world, nor to use it as a numbing agent. But rather to use play as a way to let light into the world, to allow us to feel joy and delight.
And I guess I need to do this play, re:play, again and again. Or at least tomorrow. Or maybe sometime in the future in another space. Replay. Thanks for letting me play my darling bumblebees.
And now, we’ll give you a last bite (bit)–you see what I did there?– and a final libation before we finish off the show with Act Three. You’ll get a fun-sized pistachio butterfinger and a Black Ginger mocktail with a little coffee simple syrup.