And Now, For Something Fun

A friendly PSA.

This week, I’ve moved through my days like a little rain cloud, cloaked in a heaviness beyond the July-in-New-York humidity. I feel flattened. Two-dimensional. Reminiscent of Wile E. Coyote after every failed scheme.

(Before you reach out, I’m fine. It’s just one of those weeks.)

Perhaps everyone is inhabiting another existence, I think, eyeing yet another idyllic summer vacation photo. Though I know otherwise.

People keep making different versions of the same comment — they miss fun. There is no time, no space, no occasion for joy. At least, not in the places they once found it. Not in the ways they once felt.

“Fun is dead,” remarked one friend. “I hardly remember how it feels.”

“I don’t have fun, anymore, ever,” says another. “But at least my kids do.”

Even as adults, aware of the profound heinosity (not a word but should be) outside our doors, fun has its role in our lives. What I’m talking about isn’t escapism. It isn’t numbing. It’s the opposite, in fact — the essence of aliveness.

Fun is about extending ourselves the permission to play, to get messy, to feel uninhibited. To experience the world, and ourselves, through a different lens of awareness. I’ve come to think of such escapes as a sort of “grownup recess” — a schedule-worthy interlude, whether it’s an exercise class, a recreational activity, or a stolen moment alone. Play is where resilience and innovation are born, where creativity finds the space to take root.

“Why is play important?” I asked, out loud, while typing this.

“Because Brené Brown says so,” my partner called from across the room.

That was unexpected.

“She does?”

“Yes! There’s a whole section on it in that book I read. The Gifts of Imperfection.” My work here is done, I thought, as he proceeded to pull the book off the shelf and hunt around for the relevant passage. “Wholehearted people fool around a lot…They hang out and do fun things,” he read aloud. “A critical part of wholehearted living is play. Play is as essential to our health and functioning as rest.”

Well then. If Brené says it, it must be true.

Play is defined as something purposeless, something we do for no reason beyond the fact that a) it’s enjoyable, and b) we want to. But that doesn’t make it meaningless. It’s a part of our biological needs, along with more commonly held necessities like food and sleep and socialization.

It’s possible that the only thing our culture encourages less than rest is play. But as Dr. Stuart Brown, founder of the National Institute for Play (a real nonprofit, with amazing stock photos) says, “The opposite of play is not work. The opposite of play is depression.”

And…that brings us full circle.

So I’m welcoming more play into my life — to write weird things, don bright colors, listen to songs I’d be embarrassed for someone to overhear. To do things for the sake of enjoyment. To try taking fun more seriously.

Card of the Week

Here is this week’s card for the collective, as well as some thoughts to carry into the days ahead. As most modern readers will tell you, the tarot is not about fortunetelling, nor is it about neat, definitive answers. The cards are simply one path to reflection, a way of better knowing ourselves and others through universal themes. If this reading resonates with you, great! And if not, no worries. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.

Featuring the Smith-Waite Centennial Tarot (Borderless Edition)

A figure sits, blindfolded, arms crossed rigidly in front of them. Each hand grips an upright sword. Behind the figure, a wide expanse of water eventually gives way to a mountain range, while the moon watches overhead. There are a number of traditional interpretations for the Two of Swords — an impasse, an imbalance, a difficult decision. It always has messages to spare.

Each week, I sit with the card on my desk, allowing its messages to wash over me as I work and eventually compiling them here. But this week, I thought it might be a fun change of pace to let the card speak directly to you, in its own voice. Here is what it had to say.

An Interview with The Two of Swords

Can you tell us a bit about your message this week?
That’s simple. I am the story of you, getting in your own way.

Why did you appear?
Right now, my job is to shine a light on the places where we’re stuck. To call attention to any hesitation. Doubt. Uncertainty. Procrastination. And ultimately, to help us move past it.

But isn’t it good to weigh one’s options?
To a point. Of course I support being thoughtful about our choices and actions. But more often than not, we overcomplicate the process. Whenever someone “can’t make a decision,” they already know the answer. But they’re allowing some extraneous influence — doubt, fear, other people’s opinions — to cloud their own judgment.

What are we meant to take away from your imagery?
If you examine this scene, you can see there is a certain kind of greed at play. This character is afraid to make a move, because it inevitably means letting go of something. And, as is human nature, they’d really rather have it all.

They want to be safe, but feel excitement.
They want space, but also company.
They want comfort, but also freedom.

Look, there’s nothing wrong with wanting any of these things. There’s nothing wrong with having goals or desires, nor with pursuing them.

But the trick to having it all is that you can’t necessarily have it all at once. Even nature can’t have it all at once — there are seasons. There is an inherent balance to the system, but in order for it to work, it necessitates letting some things go. As much as we may think we want it all, in reality it would overwhelm us. It wouldn’t be sustainable.

So how can we welcome the season we’re in?
Loosen your proverbial grip.

I know, I know, it’s easier said than done. But again, consider the person on the card. By clinging to both swords, their hands aren’t free to welcome new experiences. What’s more, they can’t reach up and remove the blindfold, so they’ll miss out on any opportunities that wander by.

Obviously, no one reading this is holding onto literal swords. (If you are, we need to have another conversation.) But remember, swords are the suit of thought and intellect. So what I’m suggesting is that you are clinging to old ways of thinking.

Perhaps you have too many competing desires. Too many fears. Too many voices or opinions coloring your thoughts. Try putting some of that down and see how it feels.

Some alternate interpretations of the Two of Swords. (Clockwise, from top: Serpentfire Tarot; Prisma Visions Tarot; Lioness Oracle Tarot; Apparition Tarot.)

How do you think your message fits into this larger cultural moment?
Well, no matter who you are, a lot of shit has gone down. We currently find ourselves in between — one sword representing the past, the other representing the future. (Humans typically do not relish such liminal seasons, even as they may come to define us.) It may be hard to reconcile these spaces — can we reclaim what we miss? Can we chart a way forward? We find ourselves simultaneously reaching forward and backward, which is not a recipe for progress.

It isn’t possible to dwell inside two worlds at the same time — and when it comes to the past and the future, it isn’t possible to exist within either. We only have the now. This is our time to act.

What advice do you have for us in the days ahead?
Put down the heavy things you carry, shake out your shoulders, and take a look around.

We all carry swords that keep us entrenched in familiar patterns. We all possess blind spots that get in the way of the view. This will likely always be the case — we’re human, after all. But we stand no chance of progress without cultivating awareness.

The character on the card can’t see the big picture surrounding them. But we can — and it looks great. It’s got sky, water, mountains, wide-open vistas. If only they could let go of their stuff and take a look around. It’s so easy to see this kind of irony play out in other people’s lives, but not so much in our own.

When you find yourself in a Two of Swords moment, remember that there is no need to panic. Decisions are rarely final. You can change your mind, you can course correct, you can take another turn. Also — choices are good! Because it means you have them.

Any parting words?
More isn’t always better. Case in point: You cannot effectively wield two swords at once. Put one down, and suddenly you’re able to fence. Put both down, and suddenly you’re able to run. How liberating to discover that those old beliefs you thought kept you safe were actually preventing you from moving. How incredible to let them go and finally take flight.