From the series: ‘Patterns of Spatial Ecstasy’
In the realm of healing and personal growth, play stands out for its transformative power and potential as a tool. It is central to how we understand the world and ourselves, how we navigate social cues, and how we test our boundaries.1
Developmentally, children understand themselves first through interactions with their caregivers. They test their environments and learn something based on what happens next. This continues throughout adulthood, but expands beyond the parent-child relationship to include other social relationships and environmental factors.2 This ‘testing’ process is how we learn, grow, and adapt to the world around us.
In adulthood, we play differently, and less.3 Sometimes, life’s hardships cast a shadow that disrupts this process and leads us to retreat from the world – stifling our own growth.4 Herein lies the potential of play: it provides a path to reactivating this stalled developmental process in a safe, controlled environment.5
Play Theory. Johan Huizinga’s Homo Ludens, (1938), explores the essential and defining role of play within the origin and development of human culture, and within our continued search for meaning.6
This seminal analysis provides a robust theoretical underpinning for understanding it’s role in the context of healing and growth: as a test of courage and fairness within the bounds of agreed upon rules. It is voluntary, and occurs in its own time and space separate from ordinary life.
It provides something intangible to the human condition, and Huizinga believes that its decline in modern culture is at least partially responsible for the parallel decline of creativity, freedom, and societal health.
Maintaining good health is as much about the body as it is about the mind. 7Through play, individuals acquaint themselves with bodily sensations while simultaneously practicing their ability to overcome challenges.8 For many, this leads to healing and growth.9 In a world often constrained by rigid social norms, play offers a dynamic rehearsal space for life itself—for testing, challenging, and ultimately strengthening our ability to navigate its complexities.
The distinction between the rules governing play and those of real life can offer players a window into very real methods for problem-solving and emotional processing.10 Practicing the skills of problem solving, encountering, and overcoming challenges trains a person’s adaptability and resilience. Play is more than escapism; it’s a rehearsal for life.
A close friend of mine once shared a story that illustrates this point well. Alex undertook a challenging study abroad program, driven by a deep-seated passion for knowledge. Yet, outside his research, he grappled with a sense of disconnection in an unfamiliar country. This feeling only began to dissipate the night he ventured into an underground club playing techno music.
In techno’s long-form play, Alex found an unexpected parallel to academic life. Each track, evolving and layering over time, mirrored the complexities of academic research — methodical, anticipatory, and enriching. Dancing to these elongated sets, Alex began to see a new way to understand and connect with the surrounding culture.
More than just a musical genre, techno became a bridge to the community. The club, with its diverse mix of visitors, transformed from a mere escape to a place of belonging. As Alex moved to the music, barriers fell away, paving the way for friendships and deeper cultural immersion.
Dance brought him a newfound confidence that transcended the club. Alex’s academic work flourished as this same confidence seeped into his scholarly endeavors. Presentations, discussions, and collaborations became increasingly exciting and enriching, approached now from a place of openness and rhythm that grew from those nights of dance.
As his year abroad progressed, it became clear that techno was more than a discovery; it was a parallel education. The experience of blending into the city’s rhythm led to flourishing both in personal growth and academic success. Alex returned not just with academic achievement but with life lessons learned in the unlikely classroom of an underground techno club.
Therapy Theory. While not typically thought of as ‘play’ therapies, consider that Dance, Theater, Creative Arts, Internal Family Systems (IFS), and Pesso-Boyden System Psychomotor (PBSP) therapies are each a manifestation of ‘play as practice’.
Participants engage in somatic movement, role-playing, narrative construction, and creative expression – rewiring their responses to real-world challenges while relieving tensions that have built up in their bodies. These therapies offer more than just symptomatic relief; they promote a holistic re-engagement with life’s challenges.
Through temporary immersion in an environment with an alternate set of rules, such as that of a concert hall, a theater, a studio, or – as in Alex’s case – even a club, we gain perspective that can be used to renegotiate the confines daily life.
Some of these therapies may be familiar to you already, but perhaps not in the context of ‘play’. To provide more color as to why I categorize them as such, let’s consider what they have in common with Huizinga’s definition of play.
Theater therapy, for instance, is well respected due to its success as a tool in The U.S. military.11 War veterans are cast in plays like Sophocles’ Ajax. Ajax is a Greek tragedy about a warrior who commits wartime atrocities in a rage, later realizes his error, and – consumed by shame – takes his own life.12
Veterans who have participated in this form of therapy have reported that these productions have helped them to work through feelings of shame, failure, and grief related to their own combat experiences, even if they are not the protagonist of the play.13
Performing requires ascribing to different rules, such as who is allowed to speak and what they can say, or who can emerge onto the stage, and at what time. It is a test of one’s courage and fairness within the bounds of a space that is completely distinct from ordinary life. Participation is voluntary, and involves somatic movement and creative expression within the framework of these agreed upon rules.
Dance, Creative and Expressive Arts therapies use the act of creation as a pathway to emotional clarity and regulation, offering a non-verbal alternative to spoken expression. While loose and sometimes meant to be broken, dance, painting, drawing, and sculpture are all similarly governed by rules – such as those of physics, or of expectation.
Creative expression through art has provided self-reported therapeutic benefits for many – both within and outside of the clinical environment. Some of the most renowned artists of our time – Yayoi Kusama, Chuck Close, Alvin Ailey, and Jean-Michel Basquiat, for instance, have spoken to and demonstrated its therapeutic benefits.
Kusama has openly spoken about her struggles with mental health, including hallucinations and obsessive thoughts. Her art, characterized by repetitive polka dots and mirrored rooms, is a reflection of her psychological state. Creating art has been a way for her to process her experiences and find a sense of peace and order. Her immersive and repetitive patterns are a means of coping with her anxieties and a method to express her inner world.14
Renowned for his large-scale, photo-based portraits, Chuck Close has faced several physical challenges, including a catastrophic spinal artery collapse that left him severely paralyzed. Art became an essential part of his recovery as he adapted to his physical limitations. Close modified his painting techniques to work within the constraints of his condition, using a brush strapped to his wrist. Painting helped him maintain his identity and purpose, while re-learning how to operate his body, despite his disability.15
For each of these artists, and for their patrons, art has been more than a profession or a creative pursuit; it has been a vital therapeutic tool for dealing with personal challenges, be they mental, physical, or societal. Their work not only reflects individual struggles and stories but also demonstrates the power of art as a medium for healing and self-expression.
The next two examples, Internal Family Systems (IFS), and Pesso-Boyden System Psychomotor (PBSP) are less widespread forms of therapy. As with the others we’ve discussed, they take place in a defined space, involve creative expression and somatic movement, ask participants to ascribe to different rules and to practice confronting challenges encountered in real life. Participants voluntarily test their courage – both physically and mentally.
IFS presents an innovative approach to understanding one’s psyche through the lens of various sub-personalities, a concept with fascinating implications for self-concept and interpersonal dynamics. Developed by Richard C. Schwartz in the 1980s, IFS is grounded in the belief that the mind is naturally multiple and that this multiplicity is normal.16
The theory claims that everyone has a core Self that is compassionate, confident, calm, and curious. The Self is the true essence of an individual, distinct from the various parts. Outside this Self are three ‘parts’: exiles, firefighters, and managers, that are all fighting the Self for control. They each carry their own perspectives, motivations and viewpoints.
The Goal of IFS therapy is to restore balance and harmony within the internal system by promoting the leadership of the Self. This involves identifying and understanding the different parts: healing the exiles, and transforming the roles of managers and firefighters.
This holistic, non-pathologizing approach addresses the complex interplay of emotional, psychological, and spiritual factors within an individual, promoting self-acceptance, empathy and compassion for all parts while reducing internal conflict. It is adaptable to a wide range of psychological issues, and particularly effective because it allows individuals to safely confront and process painful memories, thereby reducing their impact.17
PBSP similarly involves empathizing with others. It empowers individuals to reshape their personal stories and relationship patterns through a form of role-play. It combines elements of body-based and talk therapies to address psychological and emotional issues that manifest physically.18
By playing out safe, controlled scenarios, known as “structures,” people physically reenact past experiences to express, process, and reinterpret emotional and psychological issues.
This is done in a supportive group setting with a trained therapist, where members of the group play active roles as representatives of significant people from the individual’s life. This process helps to alleviate psychological distress through the symbolic fulfillment of unmet needs.
It acknowledges that emotional and psychological issues often have a physical component, which can be effectively addressed through bodily expression. It asks individuals to take agency over their healing by actively changing internal narratives and belief systems. This leads to lasting psychological change, catharsis, and emotional release.19
As play does, IFS and PBSP take place in distinct psychological frameworks outside the reach of typical traditions, rules, and behaviors. While still removed, they come closer to engaging the realities of everyday life than some of the other therapies described above.
Outside the scope of therapy, other forms of play come closer still, presenting challenging moral dilemmas that are laid out simply and beautifully in game theory.
On the spectrum between healing and growth, where therapeutic forms of play like the ones described above may fall closer to ‘healing’, these dilemmas may be more suitable for people who are healthy and pursuing personal development. They can be physical and psychological.
Game Theory. Game theory is a framework designed for understanding the decision-making processes in situations of competition and cooperation. It has applications in various fields, and is used to analyze a wide range of real-world scenarios.
It provides a structured way to consider strategic interactions, where the outcome for any player depends critically on the actions of others, and on the framework of the game. It assumes that ‘players’ will be strategic to maximize their rewards, that games can be cooperative, non-cooperative, zero-sum, or non-zero sum.
When these principles are applied to game design, they present complex challenges and moral dilemmas that perplex, and that parallel challenges encountered in real life.
One dilemma is that of finding a balance between rivalry and teamwork. This can manifest as the Prisoner’s Dilemma,20 where players must choose between cooperation for mutual benefit or competition for potential personal gain; or in the Tragedy of the Commons, 21 where players must decide between personal gain and the sustainable use of shared resources.
The structure of risk and rewards is another classic dilemma. Sometimes rewards are zero-sum (one player’s gain is another’s loss), and sometimes they are positive-sum (benefiting all players). Both structures impact player motivation and investment. The utility of each decision in regards to risk and reward scenarios can lead to vastly different outcomes.
As in real life, sometimes players don’t have all of the information they need to solve a problem at the outset of their journey. This affects strategy and gameplay dynamics. Poker, for example, thrives on imperfect information, while chess is a game of perfect information. This is one of many factors that can determine a game’s difficulty.
On the subject of difficulty, if a game is too difficult, it may alienate new or casual players; if it’s too easy, it may not offer enough challenge for experienced players. In game theory, equilibrium is a state that offers an optimal challenge for the majority of its players.
In narrative based games, each choice has an impact on how the game unfolds. Decision paths need to be rewarding and meaningful to maintain player engagement. Each of these dilemmas involves strategic decision-making and optimization, central tenets of game theory that reflect the complex interplay between play and challenges encountered in daily life.
I can speak to the real-life value of encountering these dilemmas in games first hand. I enjoy playing open world role playing games (RPGs), such as Divinity Original Sin 2 and Baldur’s Gate 3, and I feel that my perspective on decision-making and ethics has been positively impacted by the rich narrative and complex moral challenges that I have encountered in these virtual worlds.
One particular instance in Baldur’s Gate 3 stood out to me. I was faced with a choice that tested my principles: to help a group of desperate villagers by risking my character’s life or to take the safer path, ensuring my character’s survival but leaving the villagers to their fate.
I thought about this scenario later because it made me reflect on a situation at work where I felt that I had to choose between speaking out against an unfair policy, potentially risking my professional standing, or staying silent to avoid any personal repercussions. Just like in Baldur’s Gate 3, I was torn between the safer option and the moral one.
The game had, in an unexpected way, prepared me for the moment when I decided to speak up. Drawing from the courage I had mustered in the game, I took the risk because it felt right.
The virtual world of gaming has offered me a space to explore and understand my values, and more importantly, the courage to apply them in the real world. My decisions in the game served as a simulator for life’s tough choices – teaching me that sometimes, the riskier path, guided by my moral compass, can be more fulfilling, both in-game and in life.