When I play at what I’m doing, all the sweet elements of playfulness echo back to me in my experience.
I remind myself of this today because I so frequently forget!
. . . . .
Two days ago I had to go to a somber affair. The father of a forever friend had just died the day before . . . he was my favorite father of all the fathers I’ve known . . . and I dreaded stopping by the home a day later to pay my respects. I couldn’t stand the idea of his absence.
On the drive there I recalled how impish this man was — which is only one of many reasons he was so dear to me — and I decided to enter his home carrying this essence of him with me.
Then lightheartedness broke out in the midst of grieving adults. Two kids encountered each other: My ten-year-old son played hard and fast with a four-year-old grandson who was there.
For an hour the sounds of abandon shafted through the dense fog of sadness in the air . . . . There was hide and seek, chase, running and jumping, full on body slams (four-year old on ten-year old), chase, chase, and mucho more chase.
The laughter topped the frolic meter. The meter may have even stopped working from overload.
The message was inescapable to me. Life would be lived. It was if the sense of pure fun that this wonderful man had had so much of was embodied there in those kids.
His spirit was at play there, you just had to tune in to see it.
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