We should be more like children

We should be more like children.

We should be curious, playful, and non-judgmental.

I’m constantly in awe of children and how much they teach us just by being themselves; how they interact with each other and their environments.

One summer afternoon, I watched my little cousin meet another boy around his age.

Their introduction was simple:

“This is X, and this is Y.”

They said hello, and the next question was:

“Do you want to play?”

No hesitation. No overthinking. Launch codes were deployed.

Mission: Play.

Objective: Fun.

There was no pause to assess status, no judgment based on appearance. There was simply an unspoken understanding: You’re a child, I’m a child. Children play. Let’s play. 

Watching them, I felt envious of their ability to play so freely. It reminded me of a newsletter I read titled “Play is the infinite testing ground for creativity.” – Esther Perel.

It made pause to ask my self: 

When was the last time you met someone and just played?

When was the last time you dedicated time to play, just for the sake of it?

And no, I’m not talking about that kind of play, you filthy animal! I mean wholesome play without pretense, no questions about background, career, or status. Just a name and a shared mission: play. I can’t remember the last time I met someone new and just played. 

As we’ve grown, so too have our prejudices, the walls we’ve built to protect ourselves, and the busy lifestyles we lead. Play has been rendered unimportant, a waste of time; something only acceptable if it leads to productivity. But play, in all its forms, is necessary. Both collective play and solo play serve us in different ways.

Recently, I neglected my responsibilities for an afternoon and played. I painted my lips ruby red, played with my clothes, draped strings of wool across my room to use as a backdrop, took my camera out, and created an editorial-style photoshoot— just for my own enjoyment. I hadn’t planned to do a photoshoot. I simply let my curiosity wander. I used my hands, played with textures, colors, and angles, with no pressure to perfect anything. And you know what? I felt lighter afterward. I needed that time for frivolous fun.

For me, play exists as an exploration of my infinite possibilities. It tends to the parts of me seldom unseen; the whimsical, off-beat, unserious side of me. It humanises me. It reminds me I am so much more than what I do to get paid. 

Just as we need communal play, the kind that fosters connection, joy, and a sense of belonging, we also need solo play. The kind that allows us to reconnect with ourselves, to be present in our bodies, to create without expectation. One doesn’t replace the other. They work together.

There’s a collective yearning for connection through play. I mean just look at social media, and you’ll see how much people are craving spaces to unfurl. Maybe this is why fitness and wellness clubs have become more popular because we miss playing but feel it must serve a purpose. Somewhere along the way, we’ve been conditioned to believe that play must be productive. That it must lead to something. That it can’t just be for the sake of it.

Wouldn’t life be sweeter if we dedicated more time to be more like children?