Flashlight tag and the art of play
Growing up in my neighborhood in western Massachusetts, the magic started on summer nights when the streetlights came on. It meant that it was time for flashlight tag.
The game was simple enough. The person anointed as ‘It’ would take a flashlight to the mailbox at the curb and count out loud to a boringly high number. This provided time for the rest of the players to scatter into the adjoining yards that became our playing field. “It” would then wander in the deepening dusk until their flashlight beam fell upon a player who was identified definitively by yelling their name (and preferably what they were wearing, for honesty).
Playing the game was exhilarating! The rush of fleeing in the darkness while trying to not laugh or shout, coupled with strategically using bushes, cars, other players – you name it – for cover was addictive. I recall vividly the sweet scent of the warm night air, the pungency of nearby pine trees and the earthy mustiness of the soil. The loud hum of the filter on my neighbor’s above-ground pool and the incessant chirps of legions of cicadas were ever-present. But the fireflies were my favorite. Their flashes brought a festiveness to the whole experience, like a sort of Christmas in July.
One night I sailed through the air after running smack into the picnic table in my friend’s yard at full gallop. In those brief moments, I had a vision of impaling myself on a metal rake that surely someone had left out on the ground near the shed into which I was no doubt about to slam.
Miraculously, I landed in a painful, embarrassed heap with the wind knocked out of me and a gash on my leg, but without broken bones or worse. I listened to the other kids’, “Holy s#@ts!” amidst their shock and awe, and took the rest of the night off. But I was back in the saddle the next evening – I wasn’t going to let my glorious ‘trip to end all trips’ deter me from the bliss that was flashlight tag!
When I reflect on these nights, I cannot suppress the smirk that arises. After playing, I’d fall into bed like a dog that flops on its side, panting after a fantastic round of catch-the-Frisbee.
So, I am constantly curious why something shifts in many of us as we go through puberty and enter the realm of adulthood. There is a seriousness – often a ‘life-and-death’ sort of seriousness – that sneaks into and occupies our thoughts and mannerisms for more of our days and nights than we might like to admit.
I believe the reasons for this are as varied as people themselves, but I have observed some themes.
Here I will focus on one: the work we do for a living and the role we allow it to play in our lives.
For many, the seriousness that descends upon us as we grow up is like an unwanted, yet unseen, guest that lingers and never leaves unless you show it the door. It often connects back to the role of – and responsibilities related to – work. This can show up in a myriad of ways, such as the perceived weight of obligations from the need to provide for self and others (e.g., through work outside the home, caregiving, homemaking); the reality of the significant amount of time we tend to spend working; the energy we feel we must conserve and reserve to do our work adequately; how we feel about those with whom we work or interact with while at work; the nature and amount of our workload; resources and support we receive; how we perceive the value and impact of our work; opportunities to learn and grow; and/or the culture of our workplace, what it seems to require of us and how it makes us feel.
On a deeper level, we may hold certain desires that we unconsciously look to our work to fulfill, such as a need to be seen as self-sufficient, worthy and/or successful. This can lead to undue pressure for our job – and over time, our career – to deeply fulfill us or make us feel ‘whole’ in many ways.
Net-net, without fully realizing it, we can expect the motherlode from our work and ultimate career path.
Yep. Those bricks are heavy.
How can this affect us as adults? Over time, if unchecked, these dynamics – and the seriousness that pervades them – can do many things to us without us fully realizing it. Examples include, but are not limited to, taking away our lightness, muting our laughter, diminishing our ability to keep perspective, squelching our authenticity, increasing our stress levels, eroding the quality of our relationships and our impact, contributing to burnout, or leading us to feel stuck or adrift.
It is worth paying attention to and taking a thoughtful look at the role we allow work and career to play in our lives. Some questions to ask yourself to kickstart this inquiry:
What role has my work and career played so far in my life?
Why do I believe this is the case?
Have my attitudes changed over time?
What has served me well?
What may be limiting me or am I potentially overlooking or neglecting?
What about my work gives me energy and puts me in a feel of ‘flow’ vs. saps my energy? Look for themes.
What near- and longer-term actions could I take to bring in more of the things I enjoy and lessen the ‘not-so-good’ aspects?
Now back to play and its importance. When we integrate more of it into our lives, we create new sources of energy, connect more easily with others, open up a well of creativity, enable shifts in our perspective and can see more possibilities – in and outside of work.
It’s summertime somewhere, time is a-wasting and tag - you’re “It!”
