The Threat of Joy
Last week, I went to a meeting at my son’s high school to re-visit the school’s mission statement for the athletic program. The principal had us go around and circle the phrases and words that we wished to keep. One of these phrases referred to making athletics an “enjoyable and rewarding” experience.
Interestingly enough, “enjoyable” turned out to be a hotly contested word. Many of the parents and coaches present seem to feel that the word was unnecessary (“if you have a rewarding experience, that’s what’s enjoyable”). Some thought it was actually negative. “We don’t want the kids thinking it’s just for fun,” was the sentiment. “We want them to be dedicated and disciplined.” Putting “enjoyment” in the statement, went the reasoning, would make them less competitive. They would care less about winning; they wouldn’t work hard, they wouldn’t succeed.
The discussion reminded me of the final wrap-up discussion at the NECAP Play Conference I attended back in September of 2010. When discussing a definition of “play,” many participants seemed uncomfortable with the idea of play being an end in itself. “Everything you need to do to survive feels real good,” said one participant, quoting a biologist friend.
Well, that’s open to question. According to Paul McLean’s widely used triune brain theory, “survival” and “play” are directed by completely different parts of the brain. Survival systems operate in the oldest part of the brain, the part we share with reptiles. When I teach these concepts to kids, I ask them, “How many of you have a pet lizard? Does it recognize its name when you call it? Does it play with you?”
Then, I ask them about their pet cats and dogs, and the answers are, of course, completely different. These pets respond to their names, get excited to see certain special people, and they love to play. When we play, we exercise the limbic system, or the “mammalian brain.” Play plays a vital role in the nurture and socialization that is an integral part of mammal life.
Of course, the skills developed through play help us survive. There are many links between our reptilian and mammalian brains. But the skills we learn through play are not about survival.
If our purpose in life was to survive, we wouldn’t have evolved with capacities for nurturance, play, and social life. Like reptiles, we wouldn’t need them. But we are mammals. Like cats and dogs and monkeys, whales and otters and elephants, we play because it feels good.
And as far as “feeling good” goes – which would you choose in terms of enjoyment? Running away from a sabre-tooth tiger? Fighting to the death? Or playing tumbling and running games, and cuddling with your loved ones?
Of course, if we don’t survive, we can’t play. That’s why, when we perceive a threat to our lives, our survival systems override all of the others. Our behavior is reduced to three basic options: fight, flight, or freeze. The non-dominant side of the brain shuts down and reflexive action takes over. “Happy” hormones like dopamine and oxytocin stop flowing, and “stress” hormones like adrenalin and cortisol flood our systems.
Survival stress is expensive, physically and emotionally, and we aren’t supposed to be in it for long. It’s only supposed to last for the amount of time it takes to run to safety, overwhelm the opponent, or hide until the danger is over. When we operate in a near-constant state of stress – as is true for many people, even children, in our society - all sorts of physical and emotional problems can occur. Acid stomach. Tired adrenal glands. Inability to focus. Low self-confidence. It’s an endless – but all-too-familiar – list.
So why do we turn so many of our children’s activities – and our own –into a fight for survival? Longterm, staying in survival mode is a bad survival strategy! When we let go of survival stress, our systems return to their natural state of playfulness. We learn, we grow we relax, we thrive. We are wired for joy.
I’m writing this on a bench at my son’s tennis match. This is the third sport he’s tried this year, and it has been a revelation. We had no idea that it was possible to be in athletics without being stressed out. The tennis coach has a very quiet, watchful attitude. He mostly lets the kids play with each other, saving his comments for the times that matter.
And sometimes, he’ll sidle up to a player with a serious expression on his face and say, “Why aren’t you smiling?”
Mary Joan Schimian Jun 17, 2011
Excellent article…one that I will keep tucked in my memory…and help me to remember to let go of stress and return to my natural state of playfulness.