The intention of fun

Over the last year or two I have been going wide in my learning, reading voraciously. And as of a month ago I decided to slow down a little and do some rereading. Going deeper instead of wider. Just slowing down. Changing expectations. And it feels really peaceful. I am paying closer attention and not rereading ideas that I have already read about time and time again. I love to read. It takes hours and hours and I have been reading very purposefully for years so that I could learn and grow. And I still will do some of that. Of course, it is not something to shut down. Growth and learning are a beautiful part of life. I have just slowed down to savour the learning and in turn savour life. The sweetness of time slipping by in an ordinary day. The sweetness of a mystery novel, a long walk, of doing things without intention or purpose, but for the beauty of being. 

Making sugar cookies on a rainy day. Napping in a chair. Dropping into the coffee shop in the afternoon for a rest. Sweet things that slow us down.

And that is leaving me more time to play. More time to cook, walk, hook, and just wander off. It is like I am getting back to the importance of play after a hiatus. And it is intentional. I have joined a couple of clubs just for social reasons. Just to visit with lovely people and be. And I am looking forward to being in them and just being a member. 

Yesterday I baked a big batch of cinnamon buns and invited friends over for coffee and laughed and told stories and listened to theirs. I made lattes in nice tall glasses that I bought when I actually took a day and went shopping. And we had fun. 

Play is an essential part of life. And in all my reading, I have read that the research shows this. It is important for our creativity to let our brains roam. It promotes creativity. I have known this for years but read it again lately and it reminded me. Time to lallygag, to wander off, to forget, to be is as important to creativity as the making itself. Leonardo Da Vinci left us a note about this in his forty thousand pages of notes he left behind. He told us long before the research that sometimes the best thing you can do for your work is to walk away from it and rest. For years I hung this quote in my studio and I think it might be time to post it on the bulletin board again.

Art requires rest and play as much as it requires anything. Art requires joy and story and experience and emotion. Love. It requires love to be any good. And so I am stepping into a new phase. My voracious reading will turn to mysteries and novels for a while. It is time to get out the sketchbook and doodle. It is time to make small playful rugs like the puffins. Rugs for the beauty of being themselves. And learning will happen in a less intentional way. Learning will happen from teaching and making and being. And when a great book crosses my path I will read it, at least the good parts and maybe I will read those twice because great writing deserves extra attention. 

And this winter I am going to make. Make rugs, make food, make friends, make a life. I am going to remind myself to have fun because that takes attention and intention. And a good life cherishes it.