Permission to Play

I’ve been thinking about how play and wonder are our oldest teachers, yet we forget to listen to them.

Play, by definition, is voluntary movement without agenda. An act of freedom where joy and curiosity lead.

Somewhere between growing up and growing busy, we trade imagination for structure. Maybe in that exchange, we forget what makes us human.

I was reminded of that while reading a book about the essence of humanity – a reminder that we are, at our core, wired for kindness, connection, and play. At one point, the author noted how our years of wonder end abruptly, the moment structure replaces curiosity, somewhere around our first day of school.

Think about it.

From the time we’re children, we’re rewarded for obedience, not originality. We’re graded for accuracy, not imagination. The system is designed, quite literally, to mold workers, not thinkers. To create individuals who follow rules. Color inside the lines. Sit still. Don’t talk out of turn. Raise your hand before speaking. Memorize. Repeat. Perform. Compete.

Those early lessons evolve into the corporate world: meet deadlines, follow procedures, report to authority, compete for promotions.

Sound familiar?

The structure that once molded compliant students now sustains compliant adults and somewhere in that process, play disappears.

It made me realize that play is one of our most fundamental rights and one we abandon without noticing. Maybe the answers we’re chasing: purpose, fulfillment, balance – live there, in the simplest things: doing more of what we love.

I read something recently that said:

“Only a child will ask you for your third favorite color.”

It made me think that there’s a lot we can learn from children, though we often assume it’s the other way around. Maybe children are geniuses in tiny bodies. They don’t need reasons to be curious, they just are. They don’t edit their joy or explain their fascination. They question. They build. They wonder. They PLAY.

Let me share a quick story:

A few days ago, one of my teammates brought to the office a board game called Match Madness. Quick, fun, and oddly grounding. We rotated players in the office for an hour and for a moment, it felt like oxygen.

Mid game, a customer walked in.

In the past, we might’ve paused and gone back to the daily grind. But not this time. This time, I decided the game mattered. My team mattered. PLAY, in that moment, held its own kind of importance, the kind you can’t measure on a spreadsheet.

So, one of our team members politely rerouted the customer to the other conference room, and we carried on.

Who said work and play can’t happen in the same space?

It reminded me that play isn’t a luxury; it’s a human right.
Play isn’t childish, it’s how we return to ourselves.
And it doesn’t have to be elaborate; it just needs to be intentional.

1. Play is painting without a reason
2. Cooking a recipe you’ve never tried
3. Going for a walk without your phone
4. Building something with your hands
5. Playing an instrument badly (but proudly)
6. Starting a conversation that goes nowhere (and everywhere)
7. Play is creating whichever form of art you use to express your inner world
8. Taking a different route home and stopping at a restaurant you’ve never tried

Play is simply doing something that doesn’t serve a specific purpose other than to wake you up to your own aliveness.

I’ve realized that while I have an artsy side I love to play with, my truest passion is learning. It’s what makes me feel alive. To pick up a book, watch a documentary, listen to a podcast, take a course, or get lost in conversation with someone who sees the world differently than I do.

Which is probably what fueled this blog in the first place; the desire not only to express myself as a form of play, but to share what I learn and equally as important, what I unlearn.

Knowledge, after all, is best when shared.
Education, for me, isn’t just a value, it’s fuel for my soul.

These days, I say “I don’t have time” (to do what I love) a lot less. Now, I make time. Even if it’s short lived, joy fits beautifully into 15-20 minutes.

So here’s my call to action:
Play more
Ask better questions
Do the thing that makes time disappear
And when you meet someone new, don’t just ask what they do for a living, ask what makes them feel alive

Because maybe our evolution isn’t about becoming wealthier, more productive, or more disciplined. Maybe it’s about remembering how to play again.

Because play and wonder were never childish.
They’ve always been human.