Unitarian Universalist Church of Palo Alto

The Freedom to Play

Suzanne Semmes
July 9, 2006
Palo Alto, CA

Earlier in this service, Phyllis and Richard, in the story of Tom Sawyer, demonstrated how, when a creative mind takes up the task, work may be transformed into play. But in our own everyday lives, the opportunity to invite another in to do work for us without pay is a rare occasion!

When I think of some of the happiest people I have known, I see that they are able to go to work as if they were going to play. They are absorbed and nurtured by their work, and they have fun there. Being able to do this is certainly an art — though for many of us, we might see it as a happy byproduct. The question is, how can we bring more play into our lives, and why would we wish to? And why would we think about play in a church service?

In our culture, we traditionally see work as absolutely necessary — and — along with religion by the way — as deadly serious. But our liberal religion holds powerfully for us the expression of freedom as a precursor of the goal of world community. It is not a moment too soon for us to reclaim the Freedom to Play!

During the course of many of our lifetimes, our cultural attitude to work has, despite expectations, remained unchanged. James Surowiecki, on The New Yorker Financial Page last November said:

In the 1950s and 60s, it was commonly accepted that North Americans would soon devote their lives to leisure, not to work. Between 1900 and 1950, the number of hours the average American worked had fallen almost 25%, and pundits saw no reason for the trend to stop. Indeed, the futurist Herman Kahn prophesied in 1967 that by the end of the 20th century Americans would enjoy 13 weeks of vacation, and a four-day work week. The challenge, it seemed, would be figuring out what to do with all our free time.

[But] Kahn was wrong. Today, Americans work about the same number of hours each year as they did in 1970, and, instead of thirteen weeks of vacation, the average American now gets four (and that includes the national holidays).¹

Many Americans today enjoy the Freedom-to-Work-for-pay, and this is indeed a great privilege; one others come here to seek. Yet our national Freedom to Play has been slowly eroding. But before we get too discouraged by this, let’s explore how we can find the Freedom to Play within the lives we have.

Play is fundamental to pleasure, and pleasure, when it is in balance with labor, gives our lives meaning and purpose. The “play drive” is a primary motivator for many animals. The recent PBS documentary, “The Power of Play,” features a police investigative dog, Tom, who is trained to find objects at crime scenes. Though we might expect that food would be used as an incentive and a reward, in fact, Tom’s trainer used the chance to play with a tennis ball.

Each time Tom the dog locates something with the required scent, he is allowed to stop “work,” and play with the trainer and a tennis ball for a few minutes. Then the dog goes back to “work.” Over and over, his accomplishments of work are reinforced by play.

All creatures play to some extent, and mammals and birds play the most: 20-30% of their time in the wild. But why?

Well, play confers evolutionary advantages. Play helps in movement and cognitive development; it helps develop skills such as catching food, or gathering it. Play also, of course, demonstrates and enriches social skills.

Play teaches animals how to bond, and what their social hierarchies are. And their play helps them practice actions that will later be used in courtship, and in the rearing of young. In the human animal, play can teach us not only our connections to one another, in bonding and in friendship, but play also helps us explore our connections to the forces greater than ourselves.

Children on a swing learn about the wind; about gravity. The swimmer learns about flotation, and from actions of the waves. The kayaker learns of currents, and how the effort of the paddle can move him through the water. A camper learns how to “play” with fire, and how to “play house” in a tent, even in the rain.

And play can expand not only our skills, but also our compassion: consider a little girl in nursery school tenderly placing a doll in a cradle, or a kindly older brother soberly handing a toy to his little sister and teaching her how to play with it.

Animals who don’t play are subject to isolation. They can become rogues, or behave aggressively, threatening their society. The human implications of this are all too evident to us in our crowded world today.

We know that play nourishes the brain. That those who play have less fear and anxiety, more fun and friendship. The eye contact, the body positions, the actions are all practice. Throughout our lives, play brings relaxation — When we do it, we have less resistance to the flow of life. And as we become more flexible, our heart rates even out, our breath flows more smoothly, our muscles relax; we enjoy better health.

Other research indicates that children who have regular play times throughout their school day learn better. But somehow, in our culture, we have decided that providing regular intervals of play is not necessary after elementary school. We need to reclaim our Freedom to Play.

Surowiecki, the financial analyst we heard from earlier, goes on to say that:

Western Europe has actually got closer to the leisure society anticipated by the futurists: The French work 28% fewer hours per person than the Americans, and the Germans 25% fewer. Compared with Europeans, a higher percentage of American adults work, they work more hrs. per week, and they work more weeks per year.

One obvious result of this is that America is financially richer than Europe …

So for all this work, we are financially better off. But what about the cost to our whole selves? The late Alan Watts says, “Nothing ruins pleasure more than the anxiety to obtain more of it.”

Many in California seek to emulate the European and Latin American lifestyles of café-sitting, wine-drinking, and buying fresh food from street markets. But such activities are luxuries here — we have to pay extra for them, and find the time to fit them into our lives.

In other parts of the world, buying at a street market, chatting standing on a corner, singing while grinding coffee, or at the well or river are ordinary activities undertaken as part of life’s work. Please understand, however: I don’t want to romanticize the hard work of drawing water from a well or farming crops or getting them to market. But I do wish to highlight that, in the course of doing such ordinary work, people also converse, walk together, sing, share the effort, and enjoy one another’s company. And their children are with them through many of these tasks, playing beside them as they work. Play is integrated into their lives. How would we respond in our world, if a bank teller sang a song as he counted out our change from cashing a check?

I offer for your consideration that we need to continue to make the distinction between accumulation of tokens of wealth, i.e. money; and true wealth. Perhaps we can reclaim the role of play in the growth of the true wealth; the true wealth which is the aspiration for every person of faith.

In my work as a hospital chaplain, I sometimes forget how play can be encountered even in that setting. But the patients teach me when I forget.

Recently, I was making my first pastoral visit to a 36-year-old man, recovering from the traumatic brain injury he received on active duty in Iraq. This was one of the first days he was up out of bed and fully dressed. He was in his room with a caregiver, sitting in a wheel chair, his right arm and shoulder paralyzed. He had a tracheostomy in place, rendering him unable to speak. Not promising circumstances for play, one might expect.

I sat down in front of this young man, gently taking his right hand and introducing myself, telling him why I was there. I wanted to offer my support in the new phase of his rehabilitation, and to get to know him. He let me know he was glad to meet me by smiling broadly. I felt a little more comfortable. I think he did also.

He had what’s known as a “fanny pack” slung around his neck. I asked playfully, smiling back, “Is this your pocket?” He smiled again, and then, very laboriously, using only his functional left hand, he unzipped the first of three sections of the pack. Gently he lifted out the contents: two Kleenex tissues, with a big smile.

Nodding and smiling, I helped him put them away and zip it closed again. He went on to the next, larger pocket, unzipping it. He reached in slowly, almost as if he were playing magician, and carefully, with a flourish, drew out a small box. His face registered triumph! It was a deck of … playing cards.

His broad smile indicated his pleasure at having them, and at being able to show them to me. “You like to play,” I responded. He closed his eyes in assent, still smiling, and gently put them away again.

Finally, this young man v e r y  s l o w l y opened the third pocket: I wondered what it could contain? He drew out a small round box with a tracheostomy valve in it, and handed it to me — I understood this might be an essential tool for his survival at some point. Then, he showed me more tissues and another set of playing cards. “Double solitaire,” I thought. With wide smiles he watched my face for a response. I understood that this showing was a way to introduce himself without words — to “show me his toys” in a way — and to begin to form our relationship. This encounter demonstrated to me that the ritual of play can take the place of the words we as adults, so heavily rely upon. When speech is absent, play can take its place.

In many ways, play has much in common with the spiritual practices we heard about from Rev. Amy Zucker Morgenstern in this church a month ago: play, like spiritual practice, enhances health; like meditation or dance, or prayer, it aids development, it strengthens our bodies and hearts — and our connections to others. And, at its best, it fosters our love for each other in common understanding. By fostering our connections, play helps us grow spiritually.

In play, as in spiritual practice, we may hesitate, even fear, going further. We may be reluctant to admit we don’t know how to “play” the way we may observe others doing. But if we take the risk of celebrating our “not-knowing” — if we retain our curiosity and our flexibility, we can re-learn — up to the very moment of our passing from this earth — from the children, the animals, and one another — how to play. We can rediscover the joy we knew as children, when digging the pots and pans out of the kitchen cupboard and arranging them on the kitchen floor would occupy us for hours.

We can also turn to adults in our culture who model playfulness in the course of their work: the World Cup players, who dance along the pitches, and who move the ball, not just with their feet, but with their entire bodies. The architect Frank Gehry, who designs art museums on cocktail napkins. Twentieth-century artist Jackson Pollack, who played as he danced with cans of paint over vast canvases. The scientists who design elegant modes of space transport, and who delineate the architecture of a gene. The composers and performers of our music this morning.

Playfulness has even found its way into business: the CEO of Ben & Jerry’s, Walt Freese, (that’s his real name, folks) calls himself, with schoolboy humor, “Chief Euphoria Officer.” His company makes ice cream flavors like Vermonty Python and Jamaican Me Crazy.

As we leave here today in this week of celebrating our national freedom, let us reclaim our Freedom to Play by imagining one way each of us can play this very afternoon. And let us consider telling one other person about it before leaving church.

Let us continue to build our community with play woven in, and chuckle, giggle, or better still, laugh heartily, even if it may be through our tears.

Go in peace. Dance in Joy. May your lives be enriched, and enrich the lives of others by finding play wheresoever you can.

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