Making Space for Play & Pleasure
I’ve been putting off writing a blog post because it feels like work amidst what is already a lot of deep thinking, researching, and writing about pain stigma and social justice. As one “to-do” list morphs into another, I have been transferring the task of writing a post to each new list while trusting that the right time and content would make itself clear. Then, tonight I received the tarot card of “play" in a prominent position, as it has been showing up every time I engage with tarot recently.Hmm, I wonder if the universe is telling me something?
Yes, I’m being facetious. But, in all sincerity, making space for play has often been a challenge in my life, despite my intellectual understanding that it is powerful and much needed medicine. While I am good (great, even!) at playing and playfulness, I have a strong attachment to and investment in my identity as responsible, organized, and on top of things. Why stop to play when there are important tasks to be accomplished (see above reference to the ever present “to-do” list)...Undoubtedly, there are circumstances in my life that have encouraged and benefited from my aptitudes in planning, problem-solving and follow-through: living a full and rewarding life while navigating chronic pain and illness tops among them. Being disciplined and organized has served me well in making important strides and has empowered me to do the work that so greatly nourishes me. For this, I am hugely grateful.And, with all that said, I often forget the need to mix it up—particularly with play, levity, and fun. One of the great casualties of pain (of which there are many) that I’ve observed in myself and others is that so much time, energy, and other resources are put into the avoidance or mitigation of experiencing pain, in whatever form it takes, in an effort toward “better," while play and pleasure routinely go unattended. I believe that this is in large part because it is much more comfortable to react and/or respond to pain or the anticipation of pain (fear, hurt, anger, shame, rejection, grief) than it is to engage with pleasure. Even here I was tempted to write "expose oneself to pleasure” instead of “engage with.” If that’s not telling, I don’t know what is!
While I think of myself as creative, funny, and quirky it is interesting to discover how much fear comes up for me when I think about letting loose. In particular, I notice the fear that I will be without the security of planning and overthinking that have been a source of safety and support for much of my life. In other words, the threat is not the play or pleasure itself, but the belief that play and pleasure will render me unprotected our out of control. Pain is a home to me that has been constant and reliable despite being largely undesirable, where pleasure feels fleeting, unpredictable, and mercurial.Pleasure, play, and fun feel vulnerable to me partly because of social conditioning that they are not valid uses of time. There is also a plethora of messaging that I have internalized equating having fun to judgments that my pain is not as real or legitimate as I claim. These are both prominent in my challenge to make space for play, but there is also a much deeper vulnerability I experience around pleasure that relates to fear of being fully present and embodied in the moment. This vulnerability pivots around fear—or a feeling of threat, even—of the unknown.Yet when I am experiencing pleasure, like playing with my Service Dog, Buffy, dancing, being attuned with a friend, making silly faces, or reveling in a good meal, I feel alive in myself, not vulnerable. Or, perhaps, it is precisely because I feel vulnerable in the deepest way that I am so very alive in myself in these instances.
Yes, I’m being facetious. But, in all sincerity, making space for play has often been a challenge in my life, despite my intellectual understanding that it is powerful and much needed medicine. While I am good (great, even!) at playing and playfulness, I have a strong attachment to and investment in my identity as responsible, organized, and on top of things. Why stop to play when there are important tasks to be accomplished (see above reference to the ever present “to-do” list)...Undoubtedly, there are circumstances in my life that have encouraged and benefited from my aptitudes in planning, problem-solving and follow-through: living a full and rewarding life while navigating chronic pain and illness tops among them. Being disciplined and organized has served me well in making important strides and has empowered me to do the work that so greatly nourishes me. For this, I am hugely grateful.And, with all that said, I often forget the need to mix it up—particularly with play, levity, and fun. One of the great casualties of pain (of which there are many) that I’ve observed in myself and others is that so much time, energy, and other resources are put into the avoidance or mitigation of experiencing pain, in whatever form it takes, in an effort toward “better," while play and pleasure routinely go unattended. I believe that this is in large part because it is much more comfortable to react and/or respond to pain or the anticipation of pain (fear, hurt, anger, shame, rejection, grief) than it is to engage with pleasure. Even here I was tempted to write "expose oneself to pleasure” instead of “engage with.” If that’s not telling, I don’t know what is!While I think of myself as creative, funny, and quirky it is interesting to discover how much fear comes up for me when I think about letting loose. In particular, I notice the fear that I will be without the security of planning and overthinking that have been a source of safety and support for much of my life. In other words, the threat is not the play or pleasure itself, but the belief that play and pleasure will render me unprotected our out of control. Pain is a home to me that has been constant and reliable despite being largely undesirable, where pleasure feels fleeting, unpredictable, and mercurial.Pleasure, play, and fun feel vulnerable to me partly because of social conditioning that they are not valid uses of time. There is also a plethora of messaging that I have internalized equating having fun to judgments that my pain is not as real or legitimate as I claim. These are both prominent in my challenge to make space for play, but there is also a much deeper vulnerability I experience around pleasure that relates to fear of being fully present and embodied in the moment. This vulnerability pivots around fear—or a feeling of threat, even—of the unknown.Yet when I am experiencing pleasure, like playing with my Service Dog, Buffy, dancing, being attuned with a friend, making silly faces, or reveling in a good meal, I feel alive in myself, not vulnerable. Or, perhaps, it is precisely because I feel vulnerable in the deepest way that I am so very alive in myself in these instances.
What I am coming to appreciate about pleasure is that it is because it is unknown and vulnerable that it is so powerful: the heart and magic of pleasure is that it lasts only as long as one is fully present with it. This is much harder than it sounds, at least for me! And yet being present with play is so, so worth it.I wonder if you can relate?I have no profound answers or wisdom except to show up and be lovingly—and playfully—with the fear and whatever else comes up for me around pleasure so that I may keep exploring. I commit to all of you, dear readers, to stay engaged with the practice of play and pleasure when and how I am able.I’d love to know what you think and if you have practices around making space for play and pleasure? Post in the comments or send me a message!Yours in the spirit of play & pleasure,Ma'ayan