The real joy of life is in its play. Play is anything we do for the joy and love
of doing it, apart from any profit, compulsion, or sense of duty. It is the
real living of life with the feeling of freedom and self-expression. Play is the
business of childhood, and its continuation in later years is the prolongation of youth.
Last night when I left work and headed for the subway, the sky began to darken, and the rains were about to fall. City folk, including myself, were racing about in all different directions seeking to arrive at their destination before the rains began to fall. We act as if a drop of rain will melt us. But, seriously, though, these subways can be pretty cold and sitting in wet clothes not too comfortable.
But, when I finally stepped off the train in Brooklyn, the rain was just beginning to arrive, and at first, I stopped along with everyone else to reach for my umbrella when this voice whispered, " Just where is it that you are going that you need worry so much about a few drops of rain? What are you waiting for? Go with it. Find your inner child? When is the last time you danced and played in the rain? Remember when life was fun?"
Do you remember the excitement we felt about rain when we were kids and how much fun it was to play in warm rain? We looked forward to a good storm and twirled about and about until the sky was spinning and we could no longer stay on our feet. We fall backward onto the grass and laugh and laugh until our tummy's hurt...and then we would get up and twirl again. And, after all, it wasn't as if I were headed someplace where I'd have to sit in wet clothes for hours on end. I was going home where I could dry off my hair and slip out of my wet clothes. So, what the heck. I zipped up my purse, tucked it under my arm, and headed home.
As the wind swept rain ripped across my face, and I wiped the water from my eyes, I became oblivious to the world about me. My mascara was probably running down my cheeks, but by now I didn't care. It was only me and the elements; we were as one. And then, just before I reached my building. I stopped and held out my arms, whirling about just as I did as a child,only once, to be sure, because I'm a bit too old now to be falling on my butt. I didn't care if anyone saw me because for this one night, this one magical night, I found my childhood again.
To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and heart of the child. The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood.
Ralph Waldo Emerson