Even though most of you know I am a playful person, I haven’t been feeling very playful these past months. But Thursday at my physical therapy appointment I unexpectedly amused myself (and my PT).

Let me back up.  

    swinging on a log several years ago

When you were a kid did you like to swing your legs? I did. When what I was sitting on allowed my legs to dangle, I loved swinging my legs back and forth, and especially swiveling them in big circles. Time stopped. I felt free suddenly, free from thoughts, free from gravity, like I was flying or dancing. (Maybe it reminded me of soaring in the air on the swing set, something else I loved.) A giddy grin always transformed my face—sheer joy, with a hint of smug satisfaction. There seemed nothing more important in those moments than letting my legs swing away. Inevitably after a few minutes I would feel complete and the interlude would quickly pass.

As I grew to adulthood, there were fewer benches or seats high enough for my legs to hang free. But when I did discover one, without any thought my legs would begin to sway, the blissful grin would appear, and for a minute or two I would swing in delight. 

Even in middle age and beyond I never passed up any rare opportunities for amusing myself this way. And being a grownup doing this just added to the delight.

So…Thursday.  

Within a few weeks of my hip replacement I began going to physical therapy  weekly to build up muscles weakened by my hip issues and restore overall balance and strength. The gym there with all its fitness machines and props was foreign and forbidding territory to me, but my PT has been my guide in this strange land. We are  generally sober and diligent as we work together.

         seats at water’s edge also work for swinging…

Yesterday, about halfway though my session I had finished doing knee extensions at the weight machine when there was a pause as the PT checked her notes to set the weights for my hamstring curls. Suddenly I noticed my legs were dangling, and instantly I began to sweep them forward and back and around in circles. Out popped the old familiar grin, the surge of joy and sense of freedom. My young PT was startled at first—after all, I had been using this machine for months—but consented with an amused smile to let me swing for a bit before we went on. I’m sure she hadn’t seen me smile like that in all our times together.  

I told her I was thrilled because I could swing both legs fully outward, something I hadn’t been able to do for the last few years because of the problems with my hip. She was interested to hear about that.

I was also tickled by the incongruity between the serious fitness machine and the old lady swinging her legs with a silly grin on her face. A delicious sense of transgression or “inappropriateness” during “grave fitness matters” that I relished. 

Those two minutes brightened up the rest of the session and the hours after.  

I guess even if we don’t think we know how to play, or feel we’ve lost our sense of play, our body remembers. Our body knows how to lead us back to that playful child who found her joy wherever and whenever she could. No matter how old she is. 

Thank goodness our bodies continue to hold her close. And that she doesn’t give up on us grownups.

When has your body led you unthinking into play?  I’d love to hear.