If you really really convince me that everything is taken care of, I'll let go
On Circling as a space for play
I’m at a creative writing gathering. The prompt is Wonder and Play. The first things these words elicit in me is a little groan — like these are things I’m supposed to do, supposed to feel. The truth is I’m not that great at Wonder and Play. I’m great at working hard, great at being responsible, great at using my razor sharp mind to make discerning judgments about this or that. I’m good at charging ahead with all the fire that comes with having four Aries placements.
But I can do Wonder. I can do Play. If you really, really convince me that everything is taken care of, I’ll start to let go.
Circling practice is a place where I can play. We draw an imaginary circle around the group, and the group becomes all of reality, and we set a timer and say: Follow your instinct. Know your desire. Speak what is true. Come alive.
When I realize I am that constrained, and that free, that is when I start to play.
Teasing people. Cajoling them. Seducing them. Loving them. Holding them while they cry. Throwing a tantrum. Dancing. Moving around the room like a puppet whose strings are being gently pulled by God.
Say this, God whispers gently. Now do that. It’s fun to follow God’s instructions, having no idea where they will lead. I go to hug someone because I want a hug, but then she’s the one who starts crying. I move across the room to a friend and she says, You are the person here that I most want love from. And Liam is wearing his yellow pants and reading a book about yurts.
This is how I like to play.
I decided to post on Substack every day in the month of August — some are Notes, others are here in my archive. This is the ninth post. I don’t use AI to write these; I write the old-fashioned way. Today’s image is via the Public Domain Archive.