Play

There are so many ways to play, to have fun. I like adenalin-laden sports. I like the quiver in my stomach and the feeling of satisfaction when I accomplish a task I initially feared. There is something in my composition, whether it be body or mind, that likes challenge. I have written primarily about the ways I play in sport. I also like to play with words. Sometimes the words spout like a faucet being turned fully on; other times the words trickle and I rearrange and edit until I am happy.

I play at odd times. Recently, I was taking an after dinner walk with friends and we came to a bridge over a creek. I chose to skip the bridge and instead use the rocks in the creek as stepping stones. This way of playing takes me back to childhood. It is reminiscent of walking down sidewalks and not stepping on cracks. It reminds me of playing on the rock jetties by the ocean, and it even reminds me of hopscotch. I also play when I walk my dog. When he pulls on his leash, I pretend I am skiing a steep pitch and need a lot of body angulation to stay upright. Earlier this spring, I was at the ocean after a windy night. The wind had pushed the sand into steep banks. I imagined that I was jumping off a cornice in the mountains with skis on.

I have friends who play in ways that have no appeal for me. I do not enjoy motorized go-carts. I am not a fan of miniature railroads (though I do like dollhouses). I am not interested in bungy-jumping or zorbing. Motorcyles are not me. But these things are them. To each his own, but play, play, play.