Notes From The Playground
Practicing playfulness in hard times.
Everything is spiritual if we view life with an open mind and allow our experiences to touch our hearts. Since moving to Toronto, I've spent much time with Aki at the playground. Now that the splash pad season has begun, it's been a joy to see my boy laugh up the town, engage, and delight in the summer fun! Years ago, my spiritual experiences revolved around setting up altar spaces, elemental work, getting into the right frame of mind, and devoting myself to specific rituals. Little did I know that my spiritual practices would become embodied at the playground.
While pregnant with Aki, I used to worry about all the things I'd have to do that I didn't want to, like going to the playground and making small talk. I thought, "How boring," and wondered how I would always put up with it. It stressed me out so much that I would feel anxious, trying to convince myself that going to the playground wasn't even needed. I thought, "We'll find more interesting things to do." Now, looking back, I realize how unnecessary those worries were. Surprisingly, going to the playground and engaging in small talk was more healing and enriching than I imagined.
Nearly everything that has shaped the narrative of my life has flowed effortlessly from my meditation practices. Engaging in repetitive activities I truly savor—like creating art, walking for hours in nature, communing with plants, journaling over decades, and enjoying time at the playground—each becomes a journey of meditation. If we allow it, all our practices—mundane and magical—can lead us to see deeper truths.
"If you cannot find the truth right where you are, where else do you expect to find it?" – Dogen
Right now, I'm in the playground season of my life. There will never be another one quite like it. My son will never be this age again; before I know it, he'll be all grown up. Through his eyes, I experience, feel, and sense life anew.
How could I not emerge wiser after just a 20-minute meditation session, where I reflected on transience, interconnectedness, and boundless affection for all beings? How could I not feel all these feelings deeply embodied, pulsing, and present within me after hours of playing with my boy?
As terrified as I was of small talk, I've realized that my fear wasn't about the talk being "small"; it was about it being "short." I struggled (and still do somewhat) with initiating connections quickly. I'm more comfortable letting others initiate conversations but keep the energies flowing once engaged.
I used to believe that if conversations didn't delve deep, they weren't worth having. However, motherhood has taught me the importance of connecting with others, even if those connections are fleeting and short-lived. What I've come to know is that we all crave validation, each of us carries different levels of trauma, and we all desire a sense of belonging. Beneath it all, we long to be seen and loved, even if only for a few moments in default conversations—those socially acceptable exchanges that help us connect and feel acknowledged. Those moments when we discuss safe and familiar topics, when we say, 'I see you, I witness you here with me,' and I yearn to be witnessed in return. And also, my boy is watching. I want him to see me authentically engaging with others, and I want him to find comfort in the warmth of my interactions.
But default conversations can sometimes be dreadful, and I've learned to pivot if someone starts talking about the weather. I'll interject with something funny, deep, or unexpected, reshaping the social norms and words we typically rely on.
I remind myself that my creativity isn't limited to paper and pen; it wants to be expressed in all my relationships.
My creativity embraces playfulness. It has brought forth a son who shares this joy. Together, our bodies revel in play as our birthright. When I play and fully immerse myself in the moment, when I move beyond my thoughts and into my body—time, illusions, and worries fade. Gratitude fills me. I experience a profound sense of fullness, stillness, and connection, rooted in a deep awareness that I am intertwined with everything and everyone around me.
It's a feeling that's challenging to articulate without sounding mystical or verbose. Perhaps you've felt it too—the awareness of our bodies, and thus our mortality, that can evoke fear in the mind, yet the overwhelming sensation of the universe pulses through our heart so intensely that nothing can diminish its power.
Being playful has helped me regain the childhood I lost in the war. My son has been my greatest teacher and healer and has shown me what it truly means to put my personality aside so that I can flow in life, re:member my essence, and set aside my masks and faces. It has helped me experience a homecoming—a re-inhabiting and an opportunity to drop all the gazillion worries and anxieties that split my energy. The playground is quite literally where I come to my senses. Where I commune with elements, shed and shake my skin, to be right here, with myself, the world, and him.
It’s essential to be playful in hard times, even though it may feel contradictory or hypocritical. I've had to remind myself of this many times. When oppressive forces tear us away from our true nature, assigning roles, rules, and norms, they aim to suppress our creativity, autonomy, and community. By enforcing strict boundaries and expectations, they seek to restrict our ability to express ourselves freely and think critically.
But imagine if we goofed off more and saw life as one big playground, which it truly can be, where we come together, laughing and living in joy, embracing each moment fully and unreservedly. In our playfulness lies the power to rediscover our humanity and cultivate connections that expose the lies imposed by colonialism and capitalism on our minds.
Because every ounce of joy is resistance to this world.
With love,
Vanja
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i relate to this so much, especially the avoidance of being made "short" or small
Didn't know I needed to read this. Thanks 🙏🏻