1: “It’s amazing how much you can come to know someone, even before any deep conversations happen,” David Brooks writes in his book How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen.
When David’s oldest son was an infant, he would wake up early every morning. As in 4 a.m. early.
Because they lived in Brussels at the time, it would be dark during the winter until almost 9 a.m. So David would have four or five hours each morning to play—”to bounce him on my chest, to run his wooden trains, to tickle him and laugh,” he recalls.
“One day as I was lying on the couch, holding his hands, and he was bouncing on my stomach with his shaky legs,” David remembers, “it occurred to me that I knew him best of any person on the planet, and that of all the people on the planet, he probably knew me best, because while innocently playing with him I’d been so emotionally open and spontaneous.”
What struck David? They knew each other so well. And, because his son couldn’t talk yet, they had never had a conversation. “All of our communication was through play, touch, and glance,” he writes.
2: Yesterday, we looked at one of the greatest treasures we can give another person: the gift of accompaniment.
In these moments, we’re “not staring deeply into another’s eyes or unveiling profound intimacies,” David writes. We’re “just doing stuff together—not face-to-face but side by side.”
Being good at accompanying another person involves embracing playfulness.
“When the hosts of retreats and workshops want the participants to get to know each other quickly,” he observes, “they encourage them to play together—whether by means of croquet, cards, music, charades, taking a walk, arts and crafts, or even floating down a river.”
Why are activities like these so effective in building relationships?
“Because people are more fully human when they are at play,” he writes. “As the essayist Diane Ackerman notes in her book Deep Play, play isn’t an activity; it’s a state of mind.”
David reflects on a group of friends who have played a monthly basketball game for many years. “They may never have had a deep conversation, but they’d lay down their lives for one another, so deep are the bonds between them—bonds that were formed by play.”
When we are playful, we naturally relax and become ourselves. And we easily connect with others.
“Laughter is not just what comes after jokes,” David writes. “Laughter happens when our minds come together and something unexpected happens: We feel the ping of common recognition. We laugh to celebrate our shared understanding. We see each other.”
3: We have a choice when we engage in any activity. We can treat it like “work.” Or we can treat it like “play.”
“For some, tennis is work,” David observes. “They’re locked in that achievement mentality, trying to make progress toward some proficiency goal.
“But for others, tennis is play—a movement that feels fun and absorbing in itself,” he notes. “Their whole manner is loose; they celebrate happily when they hit a good volley, cheer when their opponent does.”
This same approach applies to our careers.
“For some, science is work—winning status and getting grants,” David suggests.
“But I know an astronomer for whom science is play. When she’s talking about black holes or distant galaxies, she sounds like an eleven-year-old bubbling over with excitement: She’s got these cool telescopes and she gets to look at cool things.”
More tomorrow!
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Reflection: Am I working or playing? What are some areas in my life where I could adopt a more playful approach?
Action: Journal about my answers to the questions above