Dear reader,
I want to tell you why play is no trivial matter.
All animals play, and not just the young ones. You can drive a cat crazy by waving a toy that darts unpredictably here and there. Dog breeds like hounds and herders revel in the thrill of the chase, while terriers prefer lighthearted full-body tussles. Even wild animals enjoy play: foxes spring forward and pounce at unseen targets, perfecting their hunting skills, while dolphins chase each other through the waves, twisting and jumping in sheer joy.
Animals play to hone the skills that will be vital for their survival as adults. Foxes, for instance, leap and pounce on imaginary prey to sharpen their hunting techniques, ensuring they can catch food in the wild. Similarly, dolphins engage in chasing and acrobatics, which not only foster social bonds but also improve their agility and coordination, essential for navigating and hunting in the ocean.
For humans, the scenario is much more varied. Our games range from physical activities like chasing or wrestling to intellectual efforts like strategy games. Our games span a wide spectrum: some are played alone, offering introspection and focus, while others bring people together in teams, fostering connection and camaraderie. Some thrive on competition, pitting players against one another, while others emphasize collaboration, uniting participants toward a shared goal.
This is especially evident when watching children play. Unlike adults, children play in a more free-form and uninhibited way, their creativity flowing without concern for structure or rules. I remember recess during elementary school vividly: some of my friends were engaged in a spirited game of tag, their laughter echoing as they zigzagged across the playground. Others were huddled in a corner, inventing imaginary worlds with sticks and leaves as props, while a few more passed a ball back and forth, their movements a mix of coordination and clumsy enthusiasm. Each activity, while seemingly random, mirrored the essence of natural play: instinctive, exploratory, and deeply joyful.
This complexity can overwhelm us, making us lose sight of the forest for the trees. Ultimately, I believe play is for us what it is for animals: an instinct that reveals our natural inclinations:those traits which, when nurtured and developed, enable us to compete with the world as adults.
We shouldn’t interpret this too literally. Loving soccer as a child doesn’t mean your "natural inclination" is to become a professional soccer player. For instance, when I was a kid, I was captivated by Pokémon, fascinated by the mechanics of training them and uncovering strategies to optimize their abilities. That didn’t mean my adult life should revolve around playing Pokémon. Instead, it revealed my instinct to seek a competitive edge by understanding underlying systems and learning how to use them to my advantage.
Play, especially the instinctive play of children, often reveals our natural inclinations in a way that feels effortless. A child captivated by organizing imaginary worlds might grow to love planning and creativity. One who spends hours mastering a game or puzzle might have an instinct for problem-solving or analysis. These inclinations aren’t rigid paths but clues, pointing to the strengths and passions that shape us.
It might sound romantic, but I mean it in the most practical way. Mastery in any field requires constant effort: setting a goal, failing, trying again, failing again, confronting the challenge once more, and maybe, this time, succeeding, only to realize the journey has just begun. It never ends and is filled with countless trials and failures.
Faced with this endless road of struggles, sheer willpower isn’t enough to push forward toward a finish line that doesn’t exist. You cannot achieve mastery relying solely on extrinsic motivation.
Instead, motivation must come from within: finding joy in the journey itself, applying yourself because you enjoy it. After failing, trying again and again and again, because it’s fun and you crave more. And when you reach a goal, being happy not because it’s over, but because there are countless more to achieve, and you can keep enjoying the process.
This is the secret: enjoying the act of doing. Never stopping, unaware of the effort, oblivious to the passage of time, all while practicing.
In short, you have to play. This is the only way to practice long enough to become a master without losing motivation, because the motivation is the play itself.
So I invite you to remember your child self: what games captivated you? Think back to the moments when time seemed to disappear, and you were lost in pure joy. Were you building imaginary worlds, strategizing to win a game, or simply running free with friends? These memories hold clues to your nature and inclinations. By reconnecting with them, you may rediscover passions and strengths that can guide you even today.
Vale,
Davide