One of the final chapters of my first book, Unscripted
, is entitled Simply Play. When I was in the throws of my final editing process of that book, going line by painful line a wonderfully persnickety editor, I remember saying this to her: “Just take it out. Delete the whole thing.”
Thankfully, she paused, and asked if I really wanted that, pointing out the value it added to my book. I was tired, I was cranky, I was exhausted by being a grownup professional, and I was so done—beyond done—with editing, even thought I knew it, too, added value. I went back to the chapter with fresh eyes and read my earnest business case for inserting more play into our lives. I wrote about it being good medicine. I wrote about it being the key to accessing the feminine in me. I wrote about how at first blush, play
ironically feels like work
. And then finally, I concluded that it’s not just a nice to have, but it’s essential, even as society tells us it’s a “waste of time” and just for kids. So I went to bat for the chapter—holding space for it to matter. And the final line of that chapter after the editing process was through was this: “I want to extend to myself that gracious and option invitation I used to offer others so readily on their doorsteps: ‘Wanna play?’ And my answer? My answer will be yes.”
Want to know what these daily verses are all about? Read here to learn what inspired this practice on my birthday post, November 1st.