Playing and Getting Paid

 

On Getting to Play

Play makes things new. Even the oldest games, even the most rule-bound, traditional, ancientest of games are made new again each time they are played. Otherwise, they wouldn't be fun.

They're made new by the way in which they're played, by the individual and collective genius of the players. In sports, it's a new strategy, or even better, a new expression of physical excellence that renews the game.

But the newness is limited, significant only to the professional player and dedicated fan. New enough to sometimes make the game spectacular, but not new enough to go beyond spectacle.

Even New Games (those described in the New Games books and carried forward by teachers of New Games) are not by themselves really New enough. Alternatives, definitely. And joyful ones at that. But not new enough to redefine, undefine the players. Not new enough to bring us to the edge of individuality, to cross the boundaries of personhood. Not new enough to touch the mystery, to reach through to the ridiculousness of all those things that separate us in the first place, and the second.

Because, no matter how new the game, a game can be no more than an invitation to play. It's not the game itself, it's play that renews us. Play without goals, rules, reasons. Play per se.

And the quality of the game, the well-playedness of it all, frequently has little to do with the game itself, little to do with the goodness of the players themselves, and everything to do with the unqualified goodness of being in play.

Play is a taste of health. A momentary engagement in the natural exuberance, exhilaration, ebullience of life at its liveliest. An affirmation of our boundless wisdom, limitless capacities.

And when play is especially good, transcendentally, transformationally good, it's because of the people with whom we are at play, in play. The community of players. The people with whom we play community. The people with whom, when we are at one with ourselves, we are at one.

On Getting Paid to Play

It has always been my personal goal to get paid to play. I think that money is in fact the most genuine form of recognition our culture has to offer, that volunteerism results most often in token recognition, leading ultimately to token efforts. Systemically speaking.

I think that most of us who are similarly driven by our faith in fun are similarly driven, similarly aware that most organizations seem to systemically disregard the singular importance of joyful work.

Yes, yes, yes, the rewards of trust and friendship are without measure, and cannot be equated to the crass material joys of financial reward. And yet, as I go about marketing my various consultancies, I find myself, despite my occasional financial successes, despite the effectiveness of my trust-building team-building efforts, saddened, deeply, by the knowledge that the very system that is rewarding me for my playfulness is systemically punishing others for theirs.

It is precisely because of our systemic lack of recognition for the value and contribution of play that I am so intrigued by the possibility that there be extrinsic recognition and support for having fun. It is indeed often painfully confusing to be materially rewarded for what is already spiritually rewarding. I have often written about the insidious nature of trophies and prizes, and their profoundly negative impact on play and spontaneity. But what I am referring to here is my observation that we have built a system that rewards people for doing what they don't like doing, and that only gives passing recognition to any connection between enjoyment and productivity.

My quest here is for a system that recognizes and supports intrinsic reward. Recognizes it by providing the conditions for playful interaction, supports it by providing a reasonable salary for the fruits of those interactions.

Far too few of us are actually getting paid to play. Far too many of us are getting rewarded for joyless, self- and other-destructive "work."

Where are there systems of reward that are effective in recognizing and supporting the productive power of play? What systems reach beyond the fortunate few to create a generalized state of affirmation of personal happiness?

If we can find no precedent, may we be able to create our own.