One…Observe gently and notice some order. Attend to detail. Nature repeats in cycles, which at first create indistinguishable variability. Two…Can we find the difference between one plant and the next, one leaf and the next, one area of bark and the next?
Three…Start with fragments and threads either in a story or of an object, or even of a behavior or belief. They hold traces of something not fully acknowledged. Sometimes gathering the pieces together becomes a playful event. I like to gather fragments and then establish threads that connect them.
Four… The function of associative memory based on feeling states satisfies some personal need. We can think of it as self–soothing with memory.
Five…Imagine a gossamer veil forming around the playful intention.
Six…Threads pull playful responses as thoughts drift. Could we literally attach threads and then labels to anything and everything?
We pull things apart and notice connections. We reattach things and make our own connections. Some of them reflect personal quirks. I call this a sandwich, because of the layers. We can remember other layers and create memory sandwiches. Sometimes I use the expression bookends to capture a similar notion. Something happens and I remember an earlier event. Some thread links the observations. The relationship can be tenuous. The same person arrives again. Someone uses the same expression that someone else used. I make a note on some surface: a sandwich. Here’s a bookend. I realize that two things happened in the same place separated by some time. I might have heard about it from different sources.
We layer bits of connection. Some connections we have yet to discover. We get to use all the aspects of play, even those of which we have yet to speak.
We need some of each ingredient to play. Otherwise elements of the transformation may distract us from play.
Reverie: Describe personal aspects of experience that blend together to make a activity playful. Include any essential ingredients.
Not being much of a cook, using a metaphor from cooking seems like skating onto thin ice. Not being much of a skater… However, potions seem part of the territory. Mud-pies. Something about the decade, could be several decades, old gooseberry chutney I find in the back of the fridge, when I look for jam enters the equation of transformation. Just the image of this slightly squat, pear shaped jar of faded fruit evokes some enchantment. It generates the notion of gathering together jars of sauces that line a refrigerator door. These jars seem like game pieces. They wait to move by some order to document some gustatory experience: a potion making workshop, with lots of cayenne. The chutney seems strong. It stands alone.
The chutney distorts my sense of connection; I lose my creative path. Maybe I am just not that fond of chutney. It does however reminder of labels on jars of recipes made by older hands. It reminds me people who have died, though left behind a jar into which they poured creative energy. I still have one last jar of my great aunt’s raspberry preserve. It is also decades old by now. And then I am imagining a chess set of saltshakers filled with other than salt.
I play where simple transformation arises. My play action generally involves changing some aspect of something. I think different people have different realms where their playfulness takes root. We can tease these out based on personal values and beliefs, attending to our inner experience.
I attend to the slight variations that distinguish one item from the next. I order a set of elements literally or in my mind, and then connections begin to occur or they demand further attention and elaboration. This ordering and arranging of groups of slightly altered objects represents the heart of something personal. It seems both a soothing process and a stimulating one.
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