An Invitation to Play — Without a Purpose

As we stand in this in-between space at the end of the year, it feels worth pausing — not to plan what’s next, but to remember what once brought us alive. For those of us living multi-path lives, joy and play can quietly slip away, not because we don’t value them, but because we’ve become so good at making everything purposeful.

I was “late” sending this week’s email.
And honestly? It doesn’t matter.

Because joy doesn’t run on schedules — and neither does play.

If you live a multi-path life, you know this tension well.
The very fact that you can hold multiple paths at once tells me a lot about you: you’re disciplined with your time, you understand leverage, and you know how to keep multiple markers moving forward simultaneously.

That’s a gift.
And… it comes with a quiet cost.

Sometimes joy becomes elusive — not because it’s gone, but because we’ve trained ourselves to associate everything with an outcome. Even rest. Even creativity. Even fun.

This week, I did a meditation by Gabby Bernstein that gently guided me back into childhood — into the body and imagination of the little girl I once was. I didn’t realize how much I needed that invitation.

I found myself on Dad’s school bus again, designing wallpaper patterns with my childhood friend and farm neighbour, Pam — who has since passed, but felt very alive in that moment.

Riding my bike between open fields, a basket full of art supplies bouncing along as I pedalled, then sitting on the edge of a dirt road, sketching with oil pastels just because it felt good.

I saw myself inventing things — polishing a small red stone into a keychain, sewing orange corduroy culottes, digging through my Grandma Olive’s craft supplies to see what might become possible. Those supplies had made their way to Mum after Grandma passed — and somehow, in this meditation, they made their way back to me.

None of it was productive.
None of it led anywhere.
And that was the point.

That sense of play — with no outcome in mind — is something we often lose as adults. And I think multi-path people lose it even faster, precisely because we’re so capable, so effective, so good at doing.

But being rooted in purpose isn’t always about clarity or direction. Sometimes it’s about remembering who you were before purpose became something you had to articulate.

So this week, I’m gently asking myself (and maybe you’ll ask yourself too):
What did I love before it had a purpose?
What might bring me joy without moving anything forward?

There’s no assignment here. No takeaway. No strategy.

Just an invitation — to remember, to play, and to let joy exist simply because it can.

With warmth, and permission to be less purpose-full — just for today,
Tamara