Child’s Play
I’ve never been a fan of New Year’s Resolutions. While I welcome the idea of a fresh start, I find myself recoiling from this collective inclination to focus on our flaws. Taking stock of last year’s progress can be meaningful, but the body shaming, detox programs, ruthless decluttering, and punishing promises all make me want to pull the covers over my head - until February.
I do, however, like to choose a word to carry me through the next year. To me, a word can be a gentle nudge or a powerful mantra. However, a word by itself puts far less pressure on me to perform than that list of resolutions that I used to make (and loathe). Whatever becomes of this singular word, it’s such an ambiguous concept that it remains all mine, all year long.
I had no clue which word to choose this year. By the end of December, I’m generally so exhausted that the only worlds pinging in my brain are ones like “REM cycle” and “hibernation.” However, I visited a local museum dedicated to illusions where (despite my low-grade fatigue) I had as much fun as my children - and I got an idea.
The author at the Museum of Illusions. December 2024.
Drumroll, please: this year, I’m choosing the word “play.” This might be my favorite one yet - primarily because its juvenile origins belie its serious implications. It’s a sparkling magic trick of a word. An illusion. For me, last year was a roller coaster, rising and falling with tremendous milestones alongside unexpected challenges. I had the most gratifying experiences - and I endured a bit of whiplash, too. This year, I think I need to lighten up, to play more and enjoy my life exactly as it is right now. Maybe you do, too.
One of the best aspects of my word is how deeply its essence is woven into other words. I notice this most when my children play. However they opt to have fun together, it’s immediately apparent that their activities are so much more games. They’re an energetic release. They’re relationship-affirming. They’re empowering. Before they work up the courage to take on the world, they bring their bravery to life via make-believe first - often in costume and with vague threats of world domination.
As an adult, when I think of incorporating more “play” into my life, I think of connecting with friends. Of moving my body. Of delighting in new experiences. Yet “play” can take on subversive significance, too. As the world increasingly feels like it’s on fire, I’m firm in my belief that it’s more important than ever to seek out ordinary opportunities for joy. To me, this isn’t sticking my head in the sand but is instead an act of resistance against despair. “Play time” is the ultimate form of self-care; when we meet our needs, we’re better equipped with the energy and hopeful spirit necessary to take care of others.
Where to start?
Prioritizing what we genuinely love to do takes effort, but I have faith in us! In the interest of full disclosure, I’m sharing five things I’m looking forward to tackling this month. I cannot stress this enough: this might be a list, but it isn’t the January 1st list that makes me feel like I’m about to break out in hives or purchase a gym membership with an opaque cancellation policy.
Dinner dates with close friends. I enjoyed the best meal with some of my favorite people last night. We laughed for hours and closed the restaurant. At the end of the evening, we sent a flurry of text messages back and forth. “We need to do this more often!” “Let’s plan something again soon!” My heart is full today, friends, and I didn’t get here alone. As soon as we give ourselves a chance to play, we remember why it matters so much.
That new hipster coffee roaster. I found a new roaster with excellent coffee and a lively WFH/hybrid army of regulars, and I’m planning to set up shop there next week. It’s slightly out-of-the-way for me, but my version of “play” has always involved trying new things and meeting new people. For me, nothing is as invigorating as getting out of my comfort zone - except, of course, when I’m able to do it while caffeinating myself.
Snowshoeing. I know, I know - this one, with its promise of ruddy-cheeked exercise, has the faint echoes of that other list. My lips are puckering just thinking about it - I can explain. I committed myself to walking daily following a bad ankle sprain late last summer. Even though I’ve recovered well, I miss my walks! I’m leery of covering too much ground with icy conditions, though. (Not trying to repeat my ankle sprain incident!) Snowshoeing appeals to me as a way to get some fresh air during the winter months. I’m eyeing various options online, but I haven’t committed to a purchase yet. As my son would say, I’m “shy of it.” We shall see. If you’ve ever done this, please reach out with tips - your suggestions might be the nudge that I need.
Concerts and comedy shows. I’ve never left a concert and wished away the experience - and I’ve had some seriously alarming concert experiences. Yet I’ve found a jewel to pocket from every single one of them. This year, I’d like to prioritize surrounding myself with music and laughter. They’re not only a dopamine hit; they’re also inspiring expressions of creativity. If I’m ever blocked in my writing life, I find it especially helpful to surrender to someone else’s creative power. I have one comedy show on the docket at the moment, and I’m already looking forward to losing track of time this way.
Read something beautiful. Maybe you guessed that this one was coming from an author? I’m full of surprises. At the moment, I’m reading the most powerful, exquisitely written book called Piglet by Lottie Hazell. Hazell’s artful language, her sharp, satirical eye, and her layers of meaning will stay with me for a long time. I know I’ll read this one again. Also, consider keeping the warmth of the holiday season alive with me with these worthy reads: Rachel Stone’s heartfelt tribute to her grandmother, Fiona Helmuth’s thoughtful approach to the holiday season, and this compelling piece from The New York Times on the continued relevance of A Christmas Carol.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this deep dive into my (somewhat cantankerous) perspective, but it’s worth remembering that there’s no right way to start the new year. However, you choose to make a fresh start - with a list or a word or an entirely blank slate - I wish you all the best in this sweet season of new beginnings.
