Playing for Life

Play is the first formidable task of childhood, even very early childhood. Play appears before speech and before socialization. It begins spontaneously.While universally regarded as an important function in children, its fundamental purpose is elusive. It has yet to be studied neurobiologically. No one seems to be sure why children play, why they seem to need to play.In the early 20th century the great psychologist of childhood development, Jean Piaget, regarded play as purposeless, as just a means of seeking pleasure. More recently play has been incorporated into educational programs for improving cognitive development,  enhancing sociability and accelerating physical facility.Much attention has been devoted to the acquisition of language, a genetically innate capacity. Language evolves from baby babbling to simple linguistic forms and, by kindergarten age, to grammatically complex speech. The dialogic condition must be met — a child will exercise his/her linguistic apparatus by conversing with adults. And that, of course, results in acquiring the spoken, home language.Play seems more solipsistic. An infant will engage with whatever objects are—literally—handy. No interaction with another person is necessary.At four months the beginnings of language are still many months away. Infants do respond to playful interactions with others and soon will play simple games and be readily amused by them.Play becomes more evidently self-directed as fantasy enters into it. Eventually, this leads to playing along with other children, sharing and mutually exchanging ideas to enrich the fantasy at play. But the solo version will endure as a mainstay of childhood. Daydreams later spin out of them..

"Neurobiologically play is elusive and yet all over the brain."

.Games are another key component of childhood. They are repeated over and over and later form lasting and cherished memories. Childhood games morph into sports, embracing more complex rules, special skills, teams, sports fans, sports arenas, and professional ambitions.Does play end as puberty pulls us toward sex and then adulthood deals the final blow?Of course not.As we get into our late teens and early twenties play goes undercover — all our secret wishful, longed-for fantasies shed their tell-tale props (teddy bears, baby dolls, action figures, Barbies) and replace them with collections (watches, shoes, jewelry, fountain pens, cars) and find substitutes in pet animals, all of whom are given names and are imbued with personalities as complex and referential and endearing as. 'Chucky' or 'Smiley', the toys we clung and cuddled with far back in our single digit years.Sleep is important because (in large part) it allows the brain to consolidate memories and do all the pruning of nerve spines, to generate new neuronal frills, essentially to reset itself and, also, us.Play may have an analogous brain function. Neurobiologically play is elusive and yet all over the brain: in far-flung locations like the way-back cerebellum, the up-front medial and dorsolateral frontal cortices, the thalamus, the amygdala; and, not to be forgotten, the dopamine hungry reward centers.Play is sometimes a rehearsal for activities demanded by the need to survive — to hunt and avoid being hunted. Sometimes play is a form of mental masturbation, fooling around with the creative (and addictive) potentials our brains allow. Sometimes play advances social connections, sometimes it is a solitary, deeply private exploration.As we age play never deserts us; we never escape the drive to induce new experiences, to consolidate one's accumulated capacities. Play is the engine that beats, like the heart, usually unnoticed and yet streaming dreams, desires, motivations, thoughts like a silent, secret circulatory system of its own.When uncovered and nakedly revealed, play often embarrasses us. Like a boy being caught playing with dolls.A few years ago, while struggling with my seriously ill child and trying to write about seriously ill patients, my artist friend David Gordon suggested I try writing a children's book, affording him a go at a totally different kind of illustration.The result was Panzil. The writing of that little book pulled out my deepest, seemingly forever hidden, play chops, my long-forgotten childish capacity to fantasize out of bounds.I have tried my hand at writing fiction. But writing Panzil was a totally different order of creativity. Shaping adult characters and fastening them to a narrative is like borrowing from the great pools of gossip that bind all adult relationships (see Sapiens).Panzil flew out of me like a buried child re-birthing itself. I knew this was play. And I loved it.