Why We’ve Forgotten How to Play
Some of the most serious places I’ve ever been in are spaces entirely dedicated to healing.
Meditation retreats. Yoga studios. Therapy offices. Communities centered around concepts like beginner’s mind, curiosity, and childlike wonder.
And yet so often the energy feels heavy.
Quiet.
Careful.
Very serious.
I say this with love because I’m not standing outside of it. I can be serious too. I can get caught in the pressure of getting things right, doing enough, helping enough, holding enough.
And I notice something happens when I live there for too long.
I stop playing.
Not just obvious play, but the little moments of lightness that make me feel like myself. I stop singing in the kitchen. I stop laughing at things that would normally make me laugh. I stop being silly.
And I see this happening everywhere.
We are carrying so much right now.
We are a heavy society.
There is real pain in the world. Real grief. Real uncertainty. Many of us are holding responsibilities that feel endless. It makes sense that we would become serious.
But sometimes seriousness becomes its own kind of tunnel.
SERIOUSNESS IS AN EGO STATE
When I think about ego, I often think about it as becoming very small.
Not small in worth, but small in perspective.
When we are stuck in stress or fear, our vision narrows. Everything feels urgent. Everything feels personal. Everything feels like something we have to solve right now.
The tunnel gets tighter.
And there isn’t much room for laughter there.
There isn’t much room for curiosity.
There isn’t much room for play.
I find that stress, ego, and the loss of play often travel together.
Not because play erases pain. We still have to acknowledge what hurts. We still have to feel what needs to be felt and move through it.
But play helps us remember there is more here than struggle.
It reminds us to look up.
PLAY DOESN’T HAVE TO BE MEANINGFUL
Play doesn’t have to be profound.
It can look like getting strangely competitive at an escape room. Wearing a Halloween costume with full commitment. Dancing badly in the kitchen. Making something messy. Laughing until your stomach hurts.
Adult play still counts as play.
The point isn’t to do it perfectly. The point is to enjoy being here. To balance out some of the heaviness. To remember that we are not just collections of responsibilities and worries and things left undone - we are people. And people need to play.
I’ve written before about the science of what laughter actually does to the body - how it regulates the nervous system, releases endorphins, and deepens connection. The research is real. But you already know what it feels like when you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. When something catches you off guard and for a moment you are completely out of your head and completely in your body.
That is not a small thing.
That is your nervous system remembering what it feels like to be free.
AN INVITATION TO LIGHTEN UP
This month, I want to invite you into something simple.
Find one opportunity to be a little ridiculous.
Not because life isn’t serious.
Not because pain should be ignored.
But because joy and grief have always lived alongside one another.
Let yourself laugh.
Let yourself be silly.
Let yourself loosen your grip, even for a moment.
Because sometimes healing doesn’t arrive through effort.
Sometimes it arrives through laughter.
Rachel Gordon, MA, MEd, is a psychotherapist and founder of Humble Warrior Therapy, where she supports individuals in the Denver area with heart-centered, trauma-informed care.