Productivity and play

"What do you have to let go of to have more fun?" a friend recently asked my circle of YaYa friends. What a good question, I thought.

Each of us responded in slightly different fashion. But one of the themes running through those responses seemed to be that of responsibility. Each of us is a strong woman, used to grabbing hold and getting things done. We've been used to being productive and perhaps even over-functioning. Wonder Woman costumes aren't foreign to us! We're always so darned responsible.

Then in another group of which I'm part, a similar topic arose; and it was clear that most of us were highly geared to productivity and responsibility. We had learned as children, "Get your work done first. Then if there's time and energy, you can play. Fun comes after work." Old tapes can be difficult to let go.

Do you resonate with any of this?

So, is it OK to just let things be and play first? Can we drop our scheduled to-do list for the day and run off with a friend or our partner and just do something fun? Might that feed our souls and spirits more than crossing items off our to-do list? Might that bring more joy into our lives—and thus, into the world?

My friend asked a good question, and I plan to reflect more on it—and see what changes I might make in how I live. What about you?

Look at yourself

Do you know people who constantly lash out at others when things go wrong in their lives? They always look for someone else to blame for everything that happens to them and for everything they don't like about their lives. Perhaps you've done that yourself at times? I know I have.

Placing blame seldom solves the problem, though, does it? It's kind of a dead-end. It makes us feel anxious and helpless. If we're not to blame, there are few choices and options to solve things. And we miss an opportunity for growth as well. Who knows what we'll learn when we step up? When we do the inner work required from stepping up?

Choosing to take responsibility is actually a sign of self-love. We love ourselves enough to encourage our acceptance of ourselves and to want change, personal growth and transformation. We love ourselves enough to know that we are strong enough—and able to be vulnerable enough—to examine what we do and our motivations for doing it. And we are strong enough to make changes, if that seems necessary.

Blame really isn't the point, is it? More important is what will you do now that this happened? What can you learn from it? What changes do you need to make to ensure that it won't happen again—or at least to reduce the chances of it happening again?