Make Time to Play

Inspiration is slow to arrive this evening; I’ve gotten out of the habit of writing.

I think of blackberries, what a treat! And free for the picking. The prior of Lions Gate Priory and I wandered off for a walk this afternoon. Right there in the neighbourhood, walking and talking, picking berries and eating them, what a treat on a lazy afternoon.

Nearly back to where we started we see some lads in the park rolling around on the ground. Are they hurt? Or are they laughing? It’s hard to tell. We get up closer and see they’re laughing, on and on and then we hear the reason. They had kicked the soccer ball into their own net, scoring a goal for the other side. Just a lot of summer fun, nothing serious, no crowds to boo are cheer.

Recently I was told about a film made in Russia about an impoverished family. The oldest girl, in her early teens, talks directly to the camera. She takes care of the children, the father, everything. “What would you like if you could have anything”. In a sad and lifeless way she says, “To play”.

While on Vancouver Island a woman took me for a tour by car to get a sense of the area around Victoria. I even got to climb about on rocks and stalk birds with my camera. The island is a lovely place at this time of year; I’ll post photographs one of these evenings. My guide told me about her son who is just starting his stint of volunteer work near Lusaka, Zambia. Tut, tut, no emails home for two weeks. He’s working for an organization called Right to Play. Their web site is currently featuring a project on the outskirts of Mozambique’s capital. The children there play in the garbage dump, looking for toys or food. But now a local lad who once played at the dump, Justin, works as a coach for Right to Play and plays football with the kids.

Do you remember ever knowing a cat that hadn’t learnt to play, and how you tried to show it how? There are some children in this world like that, and some adults too. How very sad that is.

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2 thoughts on “Make Time to Play”

  1. In his “Memories, Dreams & Reflections”, C.G.Jung mentions playing, as a full-grown man, in the lakeside sand of Lake Zurich, making gullies, dams, selecting stones. He was on an inner journey, play was the medium, but play nonetheless.

    I have a good memory of picking blackberries with my dad when I was small – we were “farmer-proof” together, alone I was fair game for the roar that seemed to come from nowhere! We were not ones for expressing emotion, so the memory is the more valuable.


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