A playful presence. That’s all it takes. Of a child. A pet. Even you. Just that. A being, being there. Present. Playfully.
So, you’re walking somewhere. Let’s say you’re walking home. And a car passes. You don’t recognize the car. You can’t see the person inside, and for some reason known only to the cosmic consciousness, you wave. And smile, even. And for that moment, your presence, shared, changes the world.
You don’t know if the driver even saw you wave. For all you know, he or she might have even waved back. But the wave happened. And you were the one that made it happen. Maybe it changed the weather 5000 miles away. Maybe it changed that person’s life, imbuing that person with a sense of love and neighborliness and home. And because of your wave, your playful presence, that person came home to his or her spouse and said something, or even did something loving, which, in turn, changed something else for the both of them.
In all likelihood, nothing changed. Except, maybe, you. You can never tell about these things: these light little gestures, these moments of acknowledgment, of shared presence, of innocent, playful connection. But for you, something changed. You were, for that moment, connected to something other than yourself. For that moment, a little bit enlarged, a little closer to, well, heaven, maybe.
Kids, little kids, do that with their presence. Smile. Wave. Change the world. Just a little.
Or you’re in a store, buying something, and when the clerk hands you the receipt, you smile. Or you say something like “enjoy your day.” Like a little blessing.
Generally, we don’t think of ourselves as being particularly playful when we do things like that. Maybe we think we’re being “nice.” Or maybe we don’t think about it at all. But, as I’ve come to understand what playfulness is, it seems to me, more and more, like that’s exactly what we’re being.
We’re doing something unnecessary. For the fun of it. We’re connecting with strangers. For no reason. We aren’t following any rules that we know of. We don’t have any particular goals in mind. Sure, it’d be even more fun if people smiled or waved back. But it’s fun enough as it is. Rewarding enough just doing those things.
Like what your pets do. Always present. Always ready to play.
That’s what playful is, don’t you know. And like everything you do playfully, in public, with strangers, it’s in its own very small way, a political statement. It’s a demonstration of what…? caring, sharing, of connection, mutuality.
And when you play games like that – some funny, casual, informal, spontaneous kind of game, like kicking a ball around, for no reason, with no goal, with someone you don’t know – the same thing happens. Only bigger. Even more political.
Even if you’re just blowing bubbles in the park, or flying a kite, there’s something about what you’re doing that is iconic. That embodies, well, freedom.
I think it’s clearer, more obvious, more of a statement when you’re playing one of those pointless funny games that I write about pretty much everywhere. Games that mean nothing, and yet demonstrate the best of us. Games that make us laugh. Games that celebrate us. And we, despite everything else, are playful, in public, together, for all the world to see.
