Play Like a Child

A small memory of my dad came to me last night as I was drifting off to sleep. When I was young, my dad used to travel internationally on business, and on one particular stop-over somewhere in Europe, he sat down for a fancy multi-course meal complete with an over-the-top dessert. Unfortunately, the dessert was so over-the-top with delicately spun marzipan over gourmet chocolate ganache that he was running dangerously late for his next flight by the time his dish came out.  In a frenzy of what can only describe as assertive"daddy energy," he deftly wielded his spoon to crunch the masterpiece into bite-size pieces.  The waiters and waitresses looked on in dismay as he shamelessly stuffed spoonfuls of chocolate and delicately spun sugar into his mouth before pushing himself gracelessly from the table. Although I did not witness the event first hand, I  have crafted a hilarious rendition of this story in my head over the years. Shameless, uncoordinated, congenial, playful.  This scene is a wonderful reminder of who my father was.   And it reminds me who I want to be.  It is a memory full of grace because it reminds me not to take myself too seriously.  I imagine my dad, 6'8," in full business attire, briefcase in tow, demolishing a beautifully handcrafted work of edible art.  And it makes me smile.

Why take ourselves too seriously?  There is always a plane to catch, a report to finish, a deadline to meet, a social engagement to honor, or dinner to get on the table.  That insistent voice in our head is often there telling us we must continue forward at top speed or everything will fail.  Yet very few things are actually that fragile; very few things are so set in stone.  When my father died, the best advice I got was to simply breathe.  The second best advice I got was to be kind to myself. Breathing comes so naturally to us that we often forgot to focus on it; forget to give ourselves the time to decompress and listen to our bodies and our mind. What charms me most about the memory of my father is how clearly he had over extended himself in that moment - almost missing his flight as he waited for dessert - and yet, in his own graceless way, he was able to handle the slip-up with grace. We have little control over many things that happen to us in life but we do control how we respond to them. My father was able to make the situation playful and find a way to laugh at himself in the re-telling.

Slowing down to savor may not always be possible.  Being mindful of our actions, our emotions, our body, may not always possible. But everything we do, stressful and hard or fun, joyful, passionate, everything we do can be done with a sense of humor.  Everything we do can be done playfully.  My mom was trying to motivate herself last night to fill wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow with manure for the garden.  A friend of mine is trying to energize himself for yet another trip across the country when I imagine it feels like he just unpacked his bags.  What would it look like to view even these obligations of dread and discomfort with the amazement, the curiosity of a young child exploring a new playground, a new backyard.  When we can laugh at ourselves and our mistakes and welcome the adventure unfolding before us, even the most daunting of hurdles can become explorations into better understanding ourselves and the world around us.  When we can learn to not take ourselves too seriously, the world becomes our playground.