by Debbie Bateman
Fun Is the Reason
Not so long ago, I joined a drumming circle in my neighbourhood. We get together once a week to play our djembes. We have no real purpose other than to connect. We’re not preparing for a concert, or even necessarily learning specific songs although we sometimes do. Each time we gather, we collectively decide what we feel like doing together. Sometimes, we spend our whole time doing nothing more than turning the names of snack food into rhythms—strawberry ice cream, for example, or avocado toast, or hot fudge sundae.
None of us are what you would call young, but we are all children at heart. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a man in his seventies, playing the spoons in his armpits. But I digress.
It’s possible of course to play my drum alone, but like most of us I prefer to have companions. After being in the circle for an hour or two, I sense in every bone of my body, vibrating like the skin of my drum, just how much we are all connected.
Whatever Brings You Alive
There is an energizing quality to play. It can beat loudly in the heart, but it can also be a quiet vibration. Play is in the body and the mind; our whole self is involved. My husband and I devote many hours every week to photography. Through the apparatus of a camera, I go deep inside a subject as vast as the ocean or an open field, as finite as the curled petals deep in the centre of a shy rose. I ask: What is here? What am I seeing? Is there more that I might be missing?
Not so long ago, we spent a blissful morning at Butchart Gardens, pondering the meaning of colour and texture. As I was seeking a fresh angle on a patch of red roses, a man in a bright blue t-shirt passed by, saying he did not want to disturb me. When he noticed my happiness, he grew unafraid and commented on my outfit, a goofy smock with scrawls and scribbles all over it, pared with simple linen pants. “You look good in black and white,” he said. “But the smile really tops it off.” I thanked him.
Because this too is an important part of play, to have fun and maybe smile, although that is optional. Fun is self-perpetuating and generous, and possibly more than anything else—fun is being completely and gorgeously alive. When I gave this man I did not know a smile, it was because I felt real.
What Does This Have to Do With Writing?
Creative work does not happen in a vacuum. Like many writers, I have dreamt of a time when I might be able to dedicate myself to writing full-time. What would I accomplish if I did not also have a day job? Lately, I’ve begun to question that dream, if only for the simple reason that I need to have something to write about. Living in the world gives me so much to consider and explore. A writer’s brain needs to be kept fully stocked with a variety of ideas and experiences.
And there is more. In addition to topics of the imagination, to be creative writers, we need energy and plenty of it. As anyone who has written a story or a poem or a play or a novel will tell you, writing is hard work. It can be draining. And this is where play really earns its value.
Great play fills the well. It can make us curious. Dare I say, it can also make us kind. Play reminds us that we’re all connected and we’re in this together. Perhaps, play even makes us bold. The world could use more of that—curious, bold kindness. Now, wouldn’t that do wonders for us all?
Play is a lot of things, but one thing it is not is frivolous.
How does play affect your creativity? What do you do to feed your creative spirit? I’d love to hear from you. Comment below if that sounds like fun.
Debbie Bateman 