It’s been a bit of a tough and busy week with work demanding a lot more of me, home being busy too, and overall finding myself running out of juice. As this happens, my eyes keep drifting over to the stacks (now much reduced in height) and looking at just one book:
I’m aching to make a simple character and roll the three little cubes with numbers on them. I don’t want it to be complicated and I don’t want it to be anything big. My heart wants to play and imagine. To lose myself in an imaginary place with an imaginary person.
The best play is spontaneous and apparently without purpose. If I was wise, I’d simply begin. Right now.
The best way to play. Why do I get so bogged down in preparation that I lose the inspiration?
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Not sure anyone but you can answer that. I know that, for me, I forget that play is ideally something with apparent purposelessness and some degree of improvisational quality. When I loosen up, the play is better. I just tend to not give myself permission to play.