Lean In: Where Play Begins (Without Performance)Exploring the theme of 'Play' with an Occupational Therapy lens, acknowledging resistances and embracing stillness

I’m Suzanne — a mum, occupational therapist, and long-time listener to the quiet wisdom that families carry. Lead Together is a space where parents and young people lead, services follow, and your vision for your life and your family’s life is honoured from the start. You are the expert. I’m here to walk beside you.

Welcome here,

After St. Patrick’s day there is often a shift in energy.

The light is no longer tentative. The air shifts between softness and restlessness. There is movement everywhere.

The birds are no longer just calling; they are busy.

And yet, alongside all of this movement, I wonder, Where does play live in all of this?

And I want to say gently — for me this week, play does not feel close.

There is frustration.There is anger at how much feels out of balance — in the world, in work, in the systems we are asked to move within.

So Lean In, for me this week, is not about finding joy. It is about noticing what is actually here.

This month, as we move into the theme of Play we begin, as always, with L — Lean In, guided by an Occupational Therapy lens.

Lean In invites us to notice without fixing. To attend to our lived experience as it is, and to trust the body as a source of information.

Before play becomes something we do, we begin by noticing how it is — or isn’t — present.

Body

Pause for a moment.

How does play feel in your body right now?

Not the idea of play. Not what it should look like.

But the felt sense of it.

Is there lightness anywhere?

A small sense of curiosity?

Or perhaps something else entirely — a tightening, a heat, even irritation or resistance when you hear the word play. That’s me!

In a full and demanding life, play can feel like something extra. Something we’ll get to when everything else is done.

Notice if your body agrees with that.

Or if there is something underneath — not necessarily lightness, but a response. A signal. A part of you that reacts, whether by softening or by bracing.

There is room for all of it.

If it feels comfortable, place a hand where you feel the strongest response — openness, tension, heat. Stay there for a few breaths.

Let sensation speak before you translate it.

Story

As we notice the body, stories often follow.

There may be a story that says:“There isn’t time for play.”

Another that says:“Play needs to be earned.”

And perhaps, for some of us, a stronger voice that says:“This version of play doesn’t feel real.”

A refusal.

A resistance to something that feels performative, forced, or disconnected from what actually matters.

See if you can notice which stories are loud today.

Which ones feel familiar.

Which ones feel inherited.

Which ones feel like they are protecting something important.

You don’t need to resolve them.

Breath

Now gently bring your attention to your breath.

Take one slow inhale, noticing the air moving in — the same air that moves through new leaves, that carries birdsong, that touches everything living.

Take a slow exhale, letting your body settle, even slightly.

On the next inhale, you might say quietly inward:

I am allowed to feel what is here.

On the exhale:

Nothing needs to be different in this moment.

Breath is not here to change anything.

It is here to accompany what is already present.

Leaning In to Play

In Occupational Therapy, play is not an extra. It is a form of participation. A way of being in relationship with the world that is exploratory, flexible, and alive.

But play cannot be forced.

True play is:

• freedom from performance

• movement without evaluation

• relationship without outcome

So when there is anger, or resistance, or a refusal to engage in what feels like “play”…

It may not be that play is absent.

It may be that something in you is refusing counterfeit joy.

Not failing to access joy —but protecting the conditions required for real play.

That protection matters.

This week, Lean In is not asking you to create play.

It is simply asking:

What is here?

And is there even the smallest shift — not joy, not lightness — but a moment where things feel slightly less tight?

Perhaps in a pause where nothing is required.

In a conversation that isn’t going anywhere.

In a moment where you are not performing, explaining, or producing.

Before you close this email, notice if there is even the smallest change in how your body feels as you read this.

A Glimpse Ahead

As we sit with what is here — whether that is openness, resistance, or something in between — the next question begins to take shape.

What would it mean to take one small step toward play that does not feel performative?

Next week, we will turn toward Engage — exploring how play might begin, not as something we create or schedule, but as something we allow in small, honest ways.

May you trust what your resistance is protecting.

May you feel what is here without needing to change it.

May freedom begin in the absence of performance.

May small moments of ease find you, even in unexpected places.

May joy return in its own time, on its own terms.

And somewhere nearby, the ladybird sits very still on a warm stone, wings closed, not in a hurry to move. Even the smallest creatures know that before flight, there is a time for stillness.

Take all of the care,

Suzanne

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