In the 1980’s, I was struck by the concept of play as a source of “study.” I still have one of the books I read, Johan Huizinga’s Homo Ludens, written in the 1930’s.

Two recent experiences brought me back to Huizinga. The first experience was listening to a radio interview of Stuart Brown, talking about his new book, Play. The interview captured me, as I had recently run into two encounters where I thought play was warranted, and others did not.

The first encounter has been a chronic one, and comes in the form of my highly energetic seven-year old; he is also extremely bright and full of joy. He is constantly being told to “settle down” by mostly well-meaning adults. Nevertheless I’ve been at odds with public school systems that expect kids to sit and listen and behave all day, doing as they’ve been told. In fact, if they don’t, they take away recess! So it was with affirmation that I read in Brown’s book – which I went out and bought – when he gives the following vignette about a perhaps-similar child:

“When people know their core truths and live in accord with what I call their “play personality,” the result is always a life of incredible power and grace. British educator Sir Ken Robinson has spoken about finding such power and grace in the life of dancer Gillian Lynne, who was the choreographer for the musicals Cats and Phantom of the Opera. Robinson interviewed her for a book he is writing, titled Epiphany, about how people discover their path in life. Lynne told him about growing up in 1930s Britain, about doing terribly in school because she was always fidgeting and never paid attention to lessons. “I suppose that now people would say she had ADHD, but people didn’t know you could have that then,” Robinson says wryly. “It wasn’t an available diagnosis at the time.” Instead, school officials told Lynne’s parents that she was mentally disabled. Lynne and her mother went to see a specialist, who talked to Gillian about school while the girl sat on her hands, trying not to fidget. After twenty minutes, the doctor asked to speak to Lynne’s mother alone in the hallway. As they were leaving the office, the doctor flipped on the radio, and when they were shut in the hallway the doctor pointed through the window back into the office. “Look,” he said, and directed the mother’s attention to Gillian, who had gotten up and started moving to the music as soon as they left. “Mrs. Lynne,” said the doctor, “your daughter’s not sick, she’s a dancer.” The doctor recommended enrolling her daughter in dance school. When Gillian got there she was delighted to find a whole room of the promise of play people like herself, “people who had to move to think,” as Lynne explained it. Lynne went on to become a principal dancer in the Royal Ballet, then founded her own dance company and eventually began working with Andrew Lloyd Webber and other producers. “Here is a woman who has helped put together some of the most successful musical productions in history, has given pleasure to millions, and is a multimillionaire,” Robinson says. Of course if she were a child now, he adds, “Someone would probably put her on drugs and tell her to calm down.”” (Play, Stuart Brown, M.D., Avery Press, pg. 12)

The second encounter is work related. I sometimes have encounters with organizations that are averse to acknowledging fun in the workplace or institutionalizing it in off-site retreats or during meetings. Cultures often reward a sense of busy-ness, or stress, as both seem to illustrate people are focused, hard at work, and taking things with the gravitas due them. Especially during hard economic times.

It is an interesting construct. My experience tells me that people perform because of their position in an emotional field, which is set by the leader. The presence of a leader is as important as his or her skills or techniques. If things are relaxed, they can still be focused and hard conversations can still be had. If things are not relaxed, you will find a lot of stressed out people trying to get others to do things for them.

If people focus on the nature of their work relationships, and play is a part of those relationships, real work gets done with less resources. Part of the reason for this is that play is the engine that runs creativity. Creativity in turn is the source of all growth, all innovation. By growth I mean new paradigms, new markets, new widgets – new views of the world that allow for adaptability, capacity to change, heightened tolerance for adversity and uncertainty, optimism, and having fun with your peers. If organizations want to thrive in a changing and unstable world, then they need to make it easier for their bright, energetic, and engaged individuals and teams to breathe easier. A lot of time, money and resources can be spent trying to ensure survival in a competitive and shifting market, but often the decision-makers are missing a key ingredient while trying to change their paradigm: Playfulness is inversely proportional to chronic anxiety.

The hard part if you find yourself in this situation? To get through a state of chronic anxiety or malaise you’re going to have to push through an acute one, and that takes some fortitude.

Which brings me back to Johan Huizinga: “Play cannot be denied. You can deny, if you like, nearly all abstractions: justice, beauty, truth, goodness, mind, God. You can deny seriousness, but not play …. We play and know that we play, so we must be more than merely rational beings, for play is irrational.”

CBC Radio One: Getting Serious about Play (April 18, 2009)