Wednesday, March 10, 2010

The play imperative

The role of play in Gigi's rescue led to the following thoughts from Jim.

A semi-famous philosopher named Johan Huizinga wrote a book called (of course the title was in Latin) Homo Ludens. His core idea is that what really distinguishes mankind from all other animals was our joy in and inclination to play. Not opposable thumbs. Not tool-making. Play. It was a lovely idea, because he does make a strong case for the important role of play in mankind’s achievements in law, science, philosophy, and the arts. It was also a profoundly stupid idea from a man who obviously never had a dog in his life or observed dogs (or otters or dolphins or chimpanzees, for that matter) without blinders on.

The truth is that dogs love play, from the moment they can walk to well beyond the point where they can barely pull themselves up off the rug. They signal this love with the classic play-bow, that unmistakable posture where a dog lowers the front if it its body to the ground, with its head, tongue out, with its butt and tail up, the latter wagging. It is not something they schedule, like a play date for a child, who is more cared for than loved. It is not something they have to remind themselves to do. It isn’t even something they need to have someone else do with them—hence, the unbounded joy of chasing your own tail. A sense of play springs from them naturally, effervescently and unbidden. It doesn’t need a set of rules, a ball, or a joystick.

The great mistake we as humans make is to separate play as something we consciously do at specified times or to think of play as one of those childish things we "put away" as we become adults. Huizinga was partly right. Play is in our human nature.To play is to be child-like. It is not childish. A sense of play is the essence not just of a full life, but a creative life. At work, it leads to the non-linear connections of inspired innovation. Play is the essence of brain-storming. I have even known a sense of play to add laughter to a funeral. When my step-grandmother died, I met some cousins of hers for the first time. She was a famously unhappy, bitter woman. Cousin Tommy Dunn looked at her in the coffin and said, “Hmmm, same nasty scowl she’s always had.” We figuratively died laughing, and it released in me my pleasant memories of Grandma Mary and freed us all from the need to pretend she wasn’t an old battle axe. We had a great time at the wake. Play is why we often use our dogs to bring family members, who are barely speaking to each other, together. But we don’t need to put this burden on our dogs alone. We can and should re-discover our own love of play and playfulness.

Robert Frost wrote one of the loveliest, shortest, and most profound of poems. It’s two lines:

The old dog barked backwards without getting up.
I remember when he was a pup.

I have known this dog. And I also know this. As he lays sleeping and dreaming, his legs race as he chases and barks at a bird far overhead. He dreams of play to the happy end. I hope I follow suit.

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