On playfulness
and a chance to win a signed copy of one of my novels
Before diving into today’s playfulness topic, let me take a step back. Back in October, I launched my Substack newsletter with a post on the list of 100 things that keep me going – and even decided to call the newsletter in a similar way. I was inspired by
and was fascinated by her process of discovering the things she loves. I also realised that just coming up with a list was not the same as living those things.Accountability groups play a role, and I see this lovely Substack community as my support group to not only discover the things, people, places, and concepts that bring me joy, pleasure, and purpose. So, I’ve started exploring those things one at a time, making sense of them as I go along. Sharing my thoughts and reflections here with you has been helpful in untangling what’s meaningful and why – and, hopefully, these posts and essays would help you think of the things that charge you positively too, and to create your own lists if you want.
Looking back, my list of the things that keep me going looks like this:
Leaving a toxic job (and generally detoxifying my life from toxic people and situations)
Feeling the love and protection of my late grandparents - reflections on love, loss and the power of memories
New beginnings - after a traumatic childhood experience
Daily rituals – in life and in my writing
The warmth and cultural richness that the act of sharing food with others brings
Being gentle to myself – and starting the year slow with an Ayurvedic massage
Dance movement
Learning to cope with rejection
Discovering a manifestation formula that works for me: setting my vision + untangling the vision from unhelpful beliefs (gremlins) + intention + action
Accepting discomfort when it happens
The next one on my list is inviting playfulness in my life.
Playfulness. There's a particular quality to watching children at play - that complete absorption, the way reality bends to their will, how a cardboard box becomes a spaceship becomes a castle becomes a shop, all within the space of an afternoon. I've been thinking about this lately, this plasticity of imagination, this permission to transform.
Then I remembered something from childhood - how we used to practice performances for our parents, treating every living room show as an adventure.
It's strange how permission works. How declaring something play can crack open its possibilities, like light through a prism.
There's intimacy in play that we don't talk about enough. The vulnerability of it. The way it requires us to loosen our grip on being right, on being serious, on being grown. The other day in the park, I watched a woman teaching her daughter to roller skate. Both of them were laughing as the child wobbled down the paved path, the mother cheering as she ran alongside. I thought: isn't this how we learn everything important? Through play, through joy, through allowing ourselves to be ridiculous?
It feels almost transgressive, this purposeful lightness. As if by choosing to play, we're somehow betraying the seriousness of living. But I'm beginning to think it's the opposite - that play might be the most serious thing we do. The most honest.
A friend recently told me about turning her job search into what she calls "The Great Career Adventure." Each rejection becomes not a failure but a plot point, each interview a side quest. "It helps me remember I'm not just a character in someone else's story," she said. "I'm the protagonist in my own."
Maybe that's what we're really talking about when we talk about play - the ability to be both the author and the character, the game designer and the player. To hold the world lightly enough that we can reshape it, even as it reshapes us.
A confession: When I was a new mother and my baby was becoming an energetic, curious toddler, constantly craving my attention and wanting to play at any waking hour, self-doubt crept in. I lost the language of play. Or, perhaps, playfulness escaped me and gave way to this thick tiredness enveloping my days, the sort of tiredness that leaves you numb to pleasures and joy. Sitting with my daughter on the floor, all sorts of educational, role-play or musical toys spread around us, I didn’t know how to engage. I felt inept, like an impostor in a world I should have known instinctively. The playground she created became a landscape I struggled to navigate. It might sound strange to you, but the sense I developed was as if I had lost my ability to enjoy myself in this very basic to our human nature way.
Slowly, I started to develop a sense of fear and guilt that I wasn’t acting normal, as mothers should. When her dad was at home, I’d look for an excuse to hibernate in my own world and I’d find refuge in the practical: I’d cook, clean, catch up with work emails, write (I had a blog called GreenKiddie at the time, where I was sharing insights into eco-friendly parenting) – whatever it took just to avoid having to join them on the floor. At the same time, I felt jealous of their shared moments of joy and laughter.
There was something more that I was missing beyond the play – it was the bonding, the freeness, the ability to just be, without watching myself being. The language of joy I'd somehow forgotten, or perhaps the burden of adulthood responsibilities had amputated.
My feelings constantly oscillated between longing to join them and dreading the thought of performing, because to me, it felt performative rather than enjoyable. The ambivalence was confusing and unbearable. Was I not a good mother? To stand at the edges of joy, observing my child’s curiosity and exploration quietly, instead of participating?
What was wrong with me?
I decided to allow us time to build our bond differently and stop blaming myself – which, if you’re a parent, I’m sure you know, it’s easier said than done. I started to observe her – the way her curiosity led her to discover things. The way she used all her senses to learn about the world. The way she laughed freely. Had my sense of feeling joy and knowing how to play become rudimentary, obsolete?
It was then when I began to experiment with art forms, merging writing with drawing and collage, using the tips of my fingers to paint abstract artworks, immersed in tactile experiences I had never allowed myself to have before for fear of looking childish or immature. But you know what? – No one was watching, no one was judging. The fear lived only in my mind, a shadow puppet show of other people's imagined thoughts.
Starting with something I enjoyed, like art and experimental, fragmented writing that meandered between genres, inviting messiness and freedom, allowed me to ease into a form of amusement which ebbed from the traditional sense of play.
The regret still lives here, somewhere behind my ribs – those early years when I couldn't play with my daughter in traditional ways. But I’ve now built in playfulness in our days in different ways, which has brought us closer. We've found our own language now, built from art and chaos and shared experiments. I still regret not being able to do that earlier though.
So, how do I invite playfulness in my life now, beyond parenting and experimenting with art and writing? After all, our days often feel like work, work, and more work.
Here’s the thing: you don’t have to separate playfulness from other activities, including work. I’ve tried a few things that I enjoy, which help me foster a playful mindset through experimentation, gamification, and shifts in perspective.
Here’s what you might want to try, too:
1. Adopt an experimental mindset
One of the best ways to bring playfulness into your life is to think like an explorer. Approach challenges with curiosity and wonder, asking yourself, “What happens if I try this?” instead of stressing over the “right” way to do something. Celebrate your mistakes as valuable lessons, and don’t be afraid to laugh at mishaps. Experimentation thrives when you step outside your comfort zone, like writing with your non-dominant hand or imagining yourself as a superhero brainstorming solutions to everyday problems.
2. Gamify everyday life
Turn daily tasks into opportunities for fun by adding a playful twist. Create quirky challenges, such as completing chores within a set time or inventing silly rules like using only one hand while doing something. Track your achievements with rewards; think friendly competition with family members, collating points for trying new foods or for staying away from your phone or devices the longest during the weekend. Other ideas for lighthearted competitions with friends or family could be: who can come up with the most creative solution to a problem. Those kind of gamification methods keep things fresh and engaging.
3. Shift your attitude towards playfulness
Playfulness often starts with how you view the world. Embrace a light-hearted approach by taking yourself less seriously and finding joy even in serious situations. Sounds wonderful, but how to do it exactly, right? – When opportunities for silliness arise, say “Why not?” instead of overthinking. Humour is a powerful tool – learn to laugh at life’s absurdities and transform frustrations into moments of amusement. This attitude shift can turn even mundane experiences into moments of delight.
4. Incorporate playful thinking
Your imagination can be a gateway to playfulness. Engage in “What if?” thinking to transform daydreams into tools for creativity and problem-solving. Imagine alternate realities, exaggerated scenarios, or playful ways to approach your goals. Reframe tasks like writing a report as crafting a story or presenting data as creating a performance. Even mundane objects can come alive with a bit of imagination – picture your coffee mug as a fun companion or a quirky character in your day (but if you want to talk to it, don’t do it out loud for the obvious reasons).
5. Cultivate a playful identity
Playfulness is a choice that starts with how you see yourself. Decide to be a “player” in your own life, infusing fun into everything from work to relaxation. Focus on the process rather than the outcome – life is an exploration, and the joy often lies in the journey, not the destination. Let yourself experiment purely for the sake of curiosity and enjoyment and you’ll find that playfulness becomes second nature.
Hope you’ve enjoyed this essay. If you did, please show your love and support by sharing and subscribing. And, to stay in the playful mode, here’s a competition (let’s call it a game) for you.
I’ll gift a signed copy of one of my novels Four Minutes or Arrival – your choice – to one of you who shares their ways of inviting playfulness in their life. Reply in the comments by 13th March, and I’ll draw the winner on 14th March.
*Free UK delivery, but delivery costs outside of the UK apply.
Until next time,
Nataliya x