There’s a particular kind of stuck I know well.

It’s not writer’s block or burnout exactly. It’s more like... everything is happening at once inside my head and I am in wet cement. My neurospicy brain in full spiral mode. An anxious loop I keep running laps around. A feeling I can’t name but also can’t put down.

Or sometimes it’s smaller than that. It’s 8:30am and my daughter just left for school and I’ve already made breakfast, lunch, packed a snack, untangled a conflict, come up with a playful enticement to get her dressed, given three pep talks (two to her, one to myself), and now like a flip of a switch I’m supposed to pivot to work? Like I didn’t just do an invisible triathlon before most people have finished their coffee?

In these moments where I need to process, reset, pull myself out of the wet cement, I do a Flash Expression. It’s my go-to creative reset for the spirals, big and small.

Here’s what it is:

I grab a small piece of paper and a pen. I set a mental timer for a 3ish minutes. And I get whatever is rattling around in my head and heart out and onto the page. Not to make something beautiful. Not to process it completely. Just to move it from inside to outside, where it has less power over me.

The goal is to express in a flash without pressure, only curiosity. The flash expressions take different forms on different days.

Sometimes it’s a quick brain dump of words, no filter — whatever is true right now. Spiraling. Snacky. Tender. Behind. Trying. That’s it. Done.

Sometimes it’s drawing what my feelings feel like and naming them. Like anxiety feeling like tangled electrical cords in my chest.

Sometimes it’s a note from the version of me who has a little more perspective to the version of me who is currently spiraling. Hey. You’re doing a lot a LOT. You’re allowed to feel a way about it. One thing at a time and keep going sweet pea.

After I do a flash expression, the feelings chill out and feel more temporary. They stop running the show.

Why it works:

Your brain calms down the moment you put language, image, or mark to what’s inside. Naming a feeling activates the prefrontal cortex and dials down the amygdala (“Name it to tame it” as my therapist says). You’re not suppressing it. You’re metabolizing it. Three to five minutes is genuinely all it takes to shift your state.

I wrote about this in my book The Playful Way. And it’s why I built NoomaLooma — because microdosing creativity is the difference from me being a frenzied cartoon of a woman with spiral eyes and actually putting one foot in front of the other on the days when everything is a lot.

This week I want to practice with you!

Starting today, June 1st, I’m running a 5-Day Flash Expressions Challenge on the NoomaLooma app. Each day, a new prompt. Each one takes 5 minutes or less. You don’t need to be artistic. You don’t need to be in a good headspace. You can come as you are.

Day 1 is Brain Dump — five words, right now, no thinking. Just dump what’s up there. Write them, doodle them, make them big or small or chaotic. Get them out.

Come do it with me.

👉 Join the Flash Expressions Challenge on NoomaLooma — it’s free, it’s 5 minutes a day, and I genuinely think it might be the best part of your week.

Drop your flash expression in the comments. What 5 words describe you in this moment? I’ll go first: Buzzing. Over-caffeinated. Alive. Excited. Motivated.

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Your friend texts: “It’s so hot I’m becoming liquid.”

You respond: “RIP. What shall I tell your family?”

Friend: “Tell them I melted walking to the bodega. I died doing what I loved: complaining.”

You: “A hero’s death. I’ll make sure it’s inscribed on your tombstone.”

Most of us don’t count moments like these as creative. We’re looking for creativity to show up as something bigger, more official, more... legitimized somehow. And meanwhile, we’re practicing it constantly—improvising responses, bantering playfully, solving micro-problems, and making ordinary moments more interesting.

When I interviewed a hundred people as research for NoomaLooma, I kept hearing people discount their daily creative acts with the same things: “I wish I was more creative, but I don’t have time,” “I want to be more creative but I need to learn skills first,” or “I need the right materials, the right space, the right conditions, etc etc etc.”

Here’s the thing though: there are actually multiple types of creativity, and the one we’ve been dismissing as “not real” or “important” is the one that matters most in daily life.

Big C vs. little c

For the past few decades, psychologists have been teasing apart the mythical monolith of creativity and revealing a lesser-known but just-as-powerful type.

Big C Creativity is the kind that gets recognized — the published book, the launched company, the finished painting that hangs on a wall. The work that has a name and an audience.

Little c creativity is the everyday problem-solving, adaptive thinking, playful improvising that actually runs our lives. Improvising dinner from random fridge contents. Finding a new route when the subway’s down. Turning a weather complaint into a bit that makes your friend laugh.

Little c creativity is, at its core, playful. It's exploratory, low-stakes, and driven by curiosity rather than outcome. You're not trying to make a masterpiece — you're just seeing what happens. That's play. And just like physical play builds coordination and strength in kids, little c creative play builds the mental flexibility and confidence you need for the bigger creative challenges.

Big C gets the spotlight. But little c is the soundtrack powering our day to day.

We tap into little c dozens of times a day and it’s the gym where you build your creative muscles. You might start small — turning a receipt into a bookmark — but keep practicing and your creative confidence gradually bulks up. So when you run into the next big life problem, you can trust your creativity to tackle it.

Plus, UCL research with nearly 50,000 participants found that even the briefest creative activity boosts wellbeing and mood. So even if you're just doodling on a Post-It (or on the NoomaLooma app), your nervous system sighs with relief.

These little c creative moments are often the moments we enjoy most, where we feel a burst of satisfaction for cracking the tiny puzzle of nailing the perfect text back. A burst of aliveness, connection, and joy. So don’t forget to count them!

Next time you're waiting for your coffee and you notice the pattern on the floor, or you rephrase a work email three times to get the tone right, or you hum a made-up melody while you wash dishes — that's little c. That's your creativity lighting up.

How to cultivate little c creativity

Stay curious. Ask questions even when you think you already know the answer. Curiosity is the door little c creativity walks through.

Know that boredom is a goldmine. Stop waiting for the right time, the right materials, the right conditions. The best place to practice little c creativity is in the moments we're trying to escape. The commute. The queue. The five minutes before a meeting. Instead of reaching for your phone to scroll, fill the time with a playful prompt.

Give yourself kudos. Start recognizing little c moments in your life and naming them. You are creative, I pinky promise you. Start collecting evidence of it.

Do flash expressions. Give yourself 3-5 minutes and permission to express yourself without judgement. Draw how you’re feeling on a notecard. Write two sentences on a Post-It. Or swap out a doomscroll with a Noodle on NoomaLooma — a tiny creative prompt designed to do in a flash!

Remember: pressure tightens, play lightens! Fear shrinks your brain and makes it less creative. Lower the stakes, make it bite-size, and watch how much more expansive your thinking becomes.

Want to practice?

My co-founder Lakshmi and I built NoomaLooma app for this very reason!! Tiny 3-5 minute creative acts that fit inside real life. Every day you get a Noodle: a short, playful creative challenge designed to fit inside a coffee break, a commute, or the five minutes before your next meeting. No experience needed. No right answers. Just you and something genuinely fun to make.

What people are saying:

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “The new treadmill for my brain!”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “I instantly feel alive and joyful.”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Finally, a phone app that doesn’t drain you.”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐“NoomaLooma is such a gift!”

It’s free to download our daily Noodle. We’d love for you to join us, add creative play to your day, and let us know what you think!

Download NoomaLooma →

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More On Micro-Creativity

Live with talking all things PLAY and whimsymaxxing our way through the apocalypse

Airplane Mode with Liz Plank

whimsymaxxing through the apocalypse

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a month ago · 64 likes · 2 comments · Liz Plank and Piera Luisa Gelardi

The countdown is on! My book The Playful Way comes out next week, April 7, on my birthday. Alongside the launch excitement confetti, I’ve been feeling a swirl of anxiety, grief, and overwhelm. The anxiety comes from the vulnerability of putting creative ideas into the world and being seen. The grief comes from the end of a creative project and knowing I can’t change it now. The overwhelm comes from a squiggly brain juggling the many pieces of a project launch. But fortunately I have a way to navigate all these big feelings — the playful way — because that’s what the book is all about.

I’m leaning hard into my own philosophy — moving through anxiety by taking shake breaks and moving my body, coaching myself through tough spots by writing notes to myself on index cards, and handling overwhelm by making star charts to fill in my progress towards my goals. The Playful Way in action looks like finding humor, lessening pressure by leaning into play, and getting curious along the way as we bump and tumble our way through life.

When we are playful we are curiously, creatively, courageously engaged with all of life.

Which brings me to the part I’m most excited about: playing with YOU. I’m truly excited for you to try the practices in the book and to integrate the playful way into your day to day.

Here’s how to join in…

1. Order the book and get access to my virtual workshop series where I’ll be leading 8 weekly play breaks. Each session will dig into a different power of play and how to practice it day to day! Sign up here
   
   April 3 — Mover & Shaker Virtual Dance Party
   April 10 — Joyful Jester Find The Funny Play Break
   April 17 — Visionary Dreamer Imagination Play Break
   April 24 — Adventurous Improviser Improv Play Break
   May 1 — Mundane Alchemist Routine Remix Play Break
   May 8 — Expressive Creator Flash Expression Session
   May 15 — Wonder Wanderer The Art of Noticing
   May 22 — Curious Quester Experimental Lifeshop
   
   Along with the workshops, you’ll get early access to the Powers of Play book chapter to find your unique play personality and a corresponding playlist curated by moi! Sign up here

   

2. Join me on my book tour — all events will be interactive, playful, and FUN!

   
   April 7 | 7:30PM — Story Hour with Sophia Li & Friends at HiLot, NYC

   April 7 | 9:00PM — Pink Party Dance Party at Joyface, NYC

   April 24 | 6:00PM — Story Hour at Fabrik, Brooklyn, NY

   April 25 | 1:00PM — Play Break at Bedford Books, Bedford, NY
   May 13 | 6:00PM — Story Hour in Los Angeles, CA (location & ticket to come!)
   May 18 | 6:00PM — Story Hour at Longfellow Books, Portland, ME
   
   All events & RSVP links are here!

3. Play along on the NoomaLooma app – We’re offering FREE limited early access to our app. Download on the app store for bite-size daily creative prompts aka your daily dose of playyyyy.

April 7 is my birthday and my book birthday and apparently also the day I find out if three years of work resonates with other humans. No pressure! ;-)

If you've ever put something you love into the world and held your breath waiting — you get it. And if you haven't yet, I hope this book is the thing that helps you try. Come find me at one of the events, download the app, order the book.

Let’s be playful about this whole wild ride called life. Can’t wait to celebrate with you, the playful way. 🎉

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A year ago today I texted my partner with a demand: “Don’t ever let me write a book again!”

I was in the thick of editing and feeling a tornado of self doubt and creative anguish ripping through my psyche, driving me to question why I even initiated this project in the first place.

Like any big creative undertaking, writing a book is an existential adventure (whee!). It requires boatloads of vulnerability, the nerve to stare uncertainty in the face, and the honesty to smile at your work and then rip it shreds. At many points in the process, I gnashed my teeth and wished I’d never set out on the quest.

But, SPOILER! I made it through and my book The Playful Way: Creativity, Connection, and Joy Through Everyday Acts of Play, comes out in one month today (on April 7 — my birthday!)

I got it done by leaning into my own philosophy — the Playful Way — and approaching it with levity, humor, flexibility, and a spirit of exploration. Some of my biggest learnings ahead… they apply to book writing but pretty much any big undertaking as well. May they help you weather your own creative tornados!

1. Creativity is more physical than we realize

I once heard actor Riz Ahmed say that creativity is more physical than we realize, and I’ve 10000% found this to be true for me, especially through the writing process. Every time I feel stuck or stagnant, I get up from my desk and take a shake break, flailing my limbs about and dancing without judgment for a minute or two. Then, feeling silly and sweaty, I return to the task at hand.

Sometimes if things aren’t flowing on my computer, I take it physical: writing in a notebook on the floor or mapping my structure by slapping Post-It notes on a wall, this gets my body more engaged in the creative flow.

When I need a longer reset, I head out on a wonder wander, strolling while looking up, down, all around for sparks of delight, or join a dance class.

These physical interruptions reliably shake my ideas loose, reset my brain, and wake up my indwelling play spirit. When we’re working we tend to get into this blob state… trying to PUSH ideas out our brains but we forget that our bodies aren’t just transportation systems for our brains; they’re integral to how we think, feel, and create.

Getting out of my head and into my body moves my energy and ideas forward and makes the process feel a whole lot more alive.

2. Devotion over discipline

When I started writing, I researched successful writers' routines, only to find account after account of rigid 5 AM wake-ups and unwavering daily word counts. This approach works beautifully for many people, but I had to forgive myself for the fact that it just doesn't work for me. I’m a wiley creative coyote and I have always struggled with rigid discipline.

Rather than beat myself up for that, I've embraced a mantra of devotion over discipline. Devotion pictures your dreams and goals not as stern taskmasters tapping their watches impatiently, but as friends who are happy whenever you can give them attention.

If discipline says, "Write 1000 words every day between 5 AM and 7 AM, or you're not serious about your craft," devotion says, "This matters to me, and I'll show up for it—sometimes at dawn, sometimes during lunch breaks, sometimes in voice notes while I run errands."

There's punishing energy, and there's playful energy:

Punishing energy feels like:

• beating yourself up for not being a 5 AM productivity powerhouse

• comparing your messy first draft to someone else's polished masterpiece

• turning every creative session into a report card on your worth

• white-knuckling through your needs in the name of "no excuses"

Playful energy feels like:

• trying different things to see what actually works (and accepting that it keeps changing)

• celebrating any progress, in whatever form it shows up

• working with your human ups and downs instead of against them

• making "let's try it and see..." your default setting

Whenever I notice a "should" in my creative process that feels punishing, I look for a more playful, flexible way forward, that still honors my commitment to the work.

3. Creative buddies or bust

Writing can be wildly lonely. Being trapped in my own head for hours can become an absolute deathtrap of existential questions and self-doubt. So I'm eternally grateful for my writing group that formed when I was chatting with two friends at a wedding and we realized we were all working on book projects concurrently and required major moral support.

We started a WhatsApp group where we send voice notes "from the writing desk," listen to each other's challenges, give advice, and offer ra-ra cheerleading. These connections have saved my creative spirit countless times and it helped that my book buddies Liz Tran and Lydia Pang are also entrepreneurs and moms so they get the whole picture.

The myth of the solitary genius toiling away in isolation is a mess. Even people who appear to be endless wells of creative inspiration benefit from community, feedback, and knowing they’re not alone in the swirl of anxious thoughts.

Whether it’s book writing or building a business, I’ve learned that it’s creative buddies or bust.

4. Embrace your own weird creative process

I've learned that I can't always just plant myself in a chair and write. So I've given myself permission to work in many different ways, some of which might look strange to outside observers.

I write in odd places at odd times. I incentivize myself with star charts. I take long walks while pretending to talk on the phone but I’m actually talking to myself and having "conversations" where I problem-solve the work out loud. I dance with difficult sections, trying to shake up new ideas by shaking up my body. I talk through roadblocks with friends.

The writing process doesn't have to look like the romanticized image of an author at their desk, typing away in focused silence. It can be messy, mobile, and wonderfully weird. The spirit of experimentation allows me to find new ways forward far better than forcing myself to follow someone else’s well-worn script. Permission to play has been my way.

5. Yoo hoo let’s be delulu

My fatal flaw/heroic gift is that when I'm excited about a new undertaking, I rarely consider that it might be difficult. I Elle Woods my way through life with a breezy "What, like it's hard?!" I naively dive in and then inevitably discover challenges—and am completely shocked every time!

I'm not a writer by trade, but when I decided to write a book, I just thought, "This will be fun!" Turns out, creating a book is actually kind of hard... but SHHH, I'm pretending it's not.

Since the book is about being playful, maintaining this slightly wide-eyed optimism feels mission-critical. If I had thought about it too much at the beginning, I might never have started. Sometimes a little self-delusion is the best creative strategy of all.


Do you have any unexpected insights you’ve gained from your own projects? Drop a comment below to share your squiggly wisdom or let me know which if my unexpected lessons you might add to your own experimentation.

If you're excited about The Playful Way (coming April 7), pre-order it and get access to some super special perks:

—Exclusive early access to the Powers of Play chapter of The Playful Way (discover your unique powers of play)
—8 exclusive playlists for each of the play types, curated by moi
—Access to a virtual workshop series with meeeee. Every Friday at noon ET starting April 3, come play with me for a virtual workshop, diving deeper into each of the 8 play types.

• April 3 – Mover & Shaker Virtual Dance Party

• April 10 – Joyful Jester

• April 17 – Visionary Dreamer

• April 24 – Adventurous Improviser

• May 1 – Mundane Alchemist

• May 8 – Expressive Creator

• May 15 – Wonder Wanderer

• May 22 – Curious Quester
  

Thanks for playing!!

xo P

Noomies! October was INTENSE. I felt everything deeply… swirling creativity and joy mixed with grief after losing someone I’ve loved since infancy. My queer energy was flowing: embracing multiplicity, finding ways to enchant myself through the hard stuff, and flirting with life itself this month.

This month’s photo diary is a peek at what creative living looks like while navigating everything at once: the beautiful, the crushing, the mundane. It’s playing with identity through costumes. Softening anxiety with small acts of magic. Protesting with humor. And letting it all flow together.

Here’s how October unfolded...

At our NoomaLooma Dress Up & Draw, we took turns modeling and drawing each other in 3-minute bursts (low stakes, high joy!). It’s an exercise in building creative confidence—for some people, being looked at feels vulnerable; for others, the drawing part is the tricky bit. No good, no bad, just play is what we say…

Everyone exchanged drawings at the end and it was surprisingly moving to see people going home with the portraits others made of them. The vibes were immaculate. Can’t wait for the next one.

Play Prompt: Take a minute and draw something with your non-dominant hand. Enjoy the awkwardness of it.

This month was a grief wave. I lost my mom’s best friend Diane—a radiant potter who shaped so much of who I am. The day I learned she was in hospice, I happened to be meeting an artist friend at Art Shack in Brooklyn (an incredible not-for-profit pottery space), so I made a candle holder in her honor to create a little shrine. Sometimes the most cathartic thing is putting your hands to work making something in honor of someone you love.

My friends Belen and Cherri took me to see “Weer” at the new A24 theater: a one-woman show by Natalie Palamides, a wild genius with a clowning background. It was uproarious, unhinged, and I laughed and screamed my face off as Natalie played both sides of a couple on New Year’s Even 1999 (Y2K!), wearing a half-him-half-her suit.

It was the night Diane died and I really needed the reminder that grief and aliveness can coexist, that honoring loss sometimes means letting yourself feel everything, even (especially) humor.

and I presented NoomaLooma at the Kinference design conference and it felt like a big deal to get on stage and share (!!)

I’ve learned to love the improv of public speaking instead of trying to be perfect, so when tech issues struck, I just rolled with it and turned chaos into comedy (very on brand).

Best moment: a designer telling us “I lost 2 hours scrolling last night. I wish I’d had NoomaLooma!” Exactly. Join our interest list to be the first to play ;-)

Viva came home from arts afterschool wanting to make zines, so we folded paper, grabbed magazines, and spent the evening creating. She made two about the Harlem Renaissance and one about the Joy Of Children (lol) and I made mini manifestation books for me and my bestie .

My daughter is my forever teacher—always reminding me that the best creative sessions happen when you just start without overthinking. (Also: her editorial vision is unmatched.)

It’s hard time to be alive with so much violence, destruction, and injustice in the world. The grief and cognitive dissonance of every day sure is… something. So, I’m grateful for moments to show up and take collective action.

No Kings Day was HUGE. 7 million people joined! I loved seeing all the playfulness in how people showed up AKA “tactical frivolity” (using costumes, absurdity, and humor to disarm authority). The court jester speaking truth to power. Play as resistance. Joy as refusal to let the heaviness crush our spirits.

After spending 2 hours deep in business model spreadsheets (sexy!), Lakshmi and I refueled with a 5-minute play break. We did watercolor Rorschach tests—folding paper, dropping paint, seeing what emerged.

We’re serious about building with play as a business strategy (and the energy boost we got from this “diversion” proves why it matters).

Halloween is my favorite creative holiday—I love the permission it gives to play with identity, shapeshift, and experiment with different styling and makeup!

This year I was a knight in shining armor (maybe I subconsciously wanted to be my own protector). I made a cardboard sword, painted old boots silver, and then biked and subway-ed around NYC in full costume. I live for the surreal whimsy of an NYC Halloween… chatting with a clown and a raver bunny on the way into Manhattan.

We led 150 conference attendees on a Wonder Wander ending in a Found Object Museum. Everyone collected random objects on their walk, then “curated” them with labels. Favorite find: a tinfoil ball labeled “Taco Asteroid.” (Now every tinfoil ball I see = asteroid. Proof that playful reframing sticks!)

We love partnering with companies to create these unexpected, connective experiences—DM us!

This month my daughter got really into reading graphic novels, which means co-reading is now A Thing We Do! One Saturday we sat at a cafe while each lost in our own witchy books (her: “Witches of Brooklyn,” me: “Magic Maker”). It was a dream date—parallel play with a side of fries.

Parenting is not easy, so I really savored this.

For the first time in 8 years, my old friends’ band Grizzly Bear performed alongside enchantress Victoria Legrand from Beach House. The show was a portal—all these memories flooding back of shows and creative adventures from years past. I saw friends I hadn’t seen in eons. It made me feel grateful to all the artists creating beauty in the world for us to bask in.

P.S. They’re touring and the show is collective effervescence embodied!!)

My friends Aziz and Nyla from The øther invited me to a night exploring identity and dualities through art and style. We gathered around a long table and created moodboards, guided by Meagan at Art Gurl.

In a month of heightened emotions and exploration, it was so fitting to be cutting and pasting my way through questions about who I am and who I’m becoming.

October was beautifully blurred. Navigating grief with comedy, business spreadsheets with watercolors, dressing up in costume when everything feels terrible, and overall refusing to be one tidy thing. Allowing myself to feel grief, rage, joy, and wonder… and letting small creative acts help metabolize it all.

What did your October hold? Reply and share a snapshot with me—I’d love to be photo pen pals and get a window into your world.

Playfully (and tenderly), P

Ready to transform everyday moments into creative practice? Join our NoomaLooma interest list to test the app and join our events.

When I was fourteen, my mom’s best friend Diane gave me a gift that changed my life. And in 2023—nearly 30 years later—I sent her a thank you note detailing the ripple effect her present (and presence) had.

The gift was a subscription to Sassy magazine and as a questioning teen figuring out my style, taste, and sexuality, it couldn’t have been more spot on.

I remember the first issue that arrived featured Jenny Garth from 90210 on the cover and a photo of her with the bottom of her shoes to the camera, the thrift store tag still affixed to the soles.

Unlike other teen magazines, it was real, raw, relatable, and utterly irreverent in its approach. I remember reading about zines, and Riot grrrls, Kim Gordon, and Daryl K, and fantasizing about living in New York City surrounded by a cool crew of radical women who did things unapologetically, their own way.

It shaped my dreams of moving to New York, my music taste, and 10 years later, when I launched Refinery29, it influenced my approach to creating content that was playful, accessible, and broke the rules.

For years I thought about how this gift impacted me, long after the subscription had ended. And then I finally—duh!—realized I should let Diane know. So I sat down and wrote her a letter detailing how this gesture had taken my hand and guided me toward the life I was now living.

Diane had always been an inspiration to me. A witchy potter with platinum hair pulled back in a bun who threw summer solstice raku parties, the flames licking the pots as the sun set. She had the warmest physical presence and gave those kind of hugs that shave years off your life with their healing powers. She laughed mirthfully and mischievously and had an eye for beauty in small things.

Her home and pottery shop felt magical with their warm wooden interiors full of things made by human hands. Diane’s family—The Jenkins—was our extended family and I loved stopping by to eat soup out of the earthenware bowls she and her husband David made, their weight grounding me, the soup inside spiritual somehow.

After I became a New Yorker, I rarely saw her in person— maybe once or twice a year—but we’d exchange messages on Instagram. I enjoyed her photos of flowers, pottery, and the moon (always the moon!). She’d send articles and quotes she thought I’d appreciate, like “Joy is an important form of knowledge.” Once, I sent her the Witch podcast on the BBC and she replied “Takes one to know one. 🧙🏼‍♀️Let’s cast a spell today.”

A few weeks after I sent my letter off, I got one from her in return. She shared how she had no memory of the Sassy gift but that my vivid story had created a teachable moment for her to share with her fourteen-year-old granddaughter Willow (an Aries like me).

The lesson, she said was that “Even if you never know — What you do matters! We are all connected.”

This week Diane passed away unexpectedly. I am bereft that someone of such beauty, grace, and warm-heartedness has left this plane.

Diane’s presence lives on in the objects her hands touched, the lingering warmth of her hugs, and in every person who ever felt seen by one of her small gestures (the ones she may not have even remembered making).

Her last message to me said, “And laughter ensued...carry on with play time. Keep bringing the magic.” Making things with my hands and heart, just like she did, feels like a way to honor her.

We may never know the full impact we have on others but sometimes, if we’re very lucky, we get the chance to close the loop—to tell someone that their kindness found its mark, that their magic worked.

I am so grateful I did.

Sometimes I feel like my state of beauty captures my state of mind. I have scraps of gel nail polish on my fingers from July and recently cut my own hair. (Perhaps the fact that I did a surprisingly decent job evidences my ability to thrive in chaos).

No matter where I am or how busy I feel, I try to sneak in a little Wonder Wander where I look up, down, and all around searching for delight. I was in San Francisco for work and came across this scratched into the concrete… obviously, the message resonated. Living playfully is my mo but I still require constant reminders to follow my own advice.

Mini prompt: Look for a message in the universe today.

I’ve been helping out as creative director for my partner Philippe’s new espresso soda brand ESSPO. This month I was in studio having lots of fun playing on set, spritzing cans, dropping cherries into drinks, and arranging ice cubes just… so. One of my first jobs out of college was as a photo editor, so young Piera was shining through on this one, enjoying the improvisation of the day.

For back to school, I made my daughter a schultüte for her first day of second grade… it’s a German tradition that goes back a few generations on her dad’s side. I was honestly so wiped the night I made this but it brought me joy to haul out the glue gun and my stash of recycled tissue paper and decorations and pull some craft energy out of thin air. Making things requires energy but also refills my energy.

We had mixed feelings about heading back to school. But we’re working through them creatively ;-)

Mini prompt! Grab something to draw with and scribble out your feelings on a piece of paper.

Having dinner with a crew of creative founders I met this summer at where and I were entrepreneurs in residence leading imagination exercises and sparking play breaks.

I’ve been wanting to do karaoke all year and I finally got my chance! Fun is very important self care that adults don’t prioritize enough imo. Here we are enthusiastically dueting “Total Eclipse of The Heart”.

And my karaoke playlist in case you want a sing along.

and I have been plugging away on our NoomaLooma app — a place to practice micro creativity in small, celebratory groups (IRL and digitally). We’re designing for joy and excited to learn with a small group of players soon… join our interest list for more details (or to test the product before it’s released)!

Me in the green dress, leading a Wonder Wander for 20 NoomaLooma community members. We did a sensory meditation, blew bubbles, collected colors, basked in the sunshine, and drew together in the park. Spontaneous cartwheels erupted. Hope you’ll join us for the next one!

I’ve been running a bit ragged end of summer and have noticed a harsher critic in my head as a result, so I wrote these self compassion questions for myself to start and end the day with a bit more TLC. It’s been helping so I’ll pass it on: Be good to you!

This month has been a reminder that when life feels most hectic, small creative acts come to the rescue, to help me stay connected, delighted, and curious enough to keep on keeping on.

That’s my little photo diary… Will you reply to this email and send me back a photo of something delightful from your September so far? I’d love to hear from you…

Playfully, P

Earlier this summer I shared the weird, whimsical things I do in a regular day, which birthed this series of Play Chronicles. For this edition, I want to show what playfulness looks like in startup mode right now.

ICYMI, I'm not just writing NoomaLooma as a Substack—I'm building it as a company! My co-founder and I are working on an app that transforms everyday moments into creative practice playgrounds and hosting real-world experiences that unlock joy and imagination (join us!). We're a two-person team navigating the twists and turns of entrepreneurship while I also do the summer-parent juggle (iykyk). For me, play isn't just fun—it rounds my edges so I can roll with life more resourcefully.

This particular Thursday found me leading a creative event, discussing app designs, and ending with interpretive dance in a public square.

Play Chronicles — Thursday, August 14th

7:00 am — Alarm goes off. Insomnia struck last night, so I'm running on approximately 3.5 hours of sleep. I remind myself that I’ve done more on less sleep and imagine pink sparkling play energy filling up my empty tank.

7:15 am — In my dark bedroom where my 6yo daughter is still asleep, quiet as a mouse, I pull out some clothes from the closet. The art of the ninja mom getting dressed.

7:20 am — In the spirit of creative play, I opt for wearing colorful polka dots — a favorite of clowns, Kusama, and joy-designers everywhere.

7:45 am — I have a cup of coffee and some Elvis toast (PB & banana) as I pack up the supplies for the event. I fantasize about being randomly approached on the street for a “what’s in my bag” video and pulling out my treasure trove of colored markers, pencils, branded notebooks, stickers…

8:00 am — Viva, my kiddo, wakes up and I go give her morning kissies and huggies. She immediately launches into her "stay with meee mommmyyyyyy" routine, which tugs at my heart but doesn't change the fact that 35 people are expecting me to show up and give them a creative shake-up this morning.

8:10 am — About to hop on a Citibike when I realize my tight mini skirt might not survive the ride. Fortunately, I'm wearing shorts underneath (always prepared!), so I just... take the skirt off on the street. New York problems require New York solutions.

8:20 am — Pull up to the Citibike dock in DUMBO and shimmy my skirt back on, thoroughly amused by this wardrobe performance art.

8:30 am — I arrive at Fabrik — our venue for today’s gathering. It’s a co-working and social space in DUMBO that’s very welcoming, warm, and light-filled. I’m greeted by Fabrik’s founder Jaclyn and their head of community, Anna and we work together to get set up.

10 am — As people start arriving, my co-founder and I ask playful questions: "What's one thing you loved doing as a kid?" "When was the last time you let yourself be terrible at something?" "What's one weird habit that helps you think better?" The answers are illuminating and funny and I'm reminded why I love facilitating these moments.

10:30 am — We tell our event photographer Zed that Os are our thing. We later see them walking around snapping pics through a bagel. #bagelcam

11:00 am — Lakshmi and I lead 35 people through an hour of Creative Cross Training: a physical shake break, warm-up drawing activities, a curiosity quest, and then some bonkers brainstorming. We walk around passing the mic as groups share imaginary business ideas—highlights include a mystery bean bag chair company (you never know what you'll find stuffed inside!), an all-you-can-eat cheese restaurant on a train car, and a grocery store where you milk the cows yourself.

11:50 am — The room is buzzing with laughter and wild ideas. A few folks mention how rare it is to have permission to be unconstrained and impractical in a room full of strangers. But our favorite takeaway comes from Molly, who declares that today she learned that "Silly is the opposite of scared." Mic drop.

12:00 pm — Post-event, Lakshmi and I are both feeling wonderfully worn out from being "on." I have a headache from the combo of no sleep + pure excitement. We joke about playing hooky for the rest of the day, but our calendars have other plans. We do a silly stretch and get to it.

12:15 pm — We “SoHowdItGo?” — our format for debriefing after events and pitches. Discuss what went well, what we learned, what we'd do differently, what we're proud of, and feedback received. It’s a good way to keep our inner critics from eating us alive and instead make them serve actionable takeaways. Note for next time: more theatrics and props!

12:45 pm — A Fabrik member stops by to pick our brains about integrating play into her business. We spend 15 minutes riffing about what play means for different people and industries. I love these spontaneous, creative consultations.

1:00 pm — Despite our tired brains, we dive into an hour of discussing the app we're building and finalizing our core creative practices. We're building a digital tool that transforms everyday moments—coffee breaks, commutes, mindless scroll sessions—into creative playgrounds for connection and joy. [pls join our waitlist if this sounds appealing!]

2:00 pm — Put on some energetic focus music and spend an hour of heads-down time doing some blah blah work: paying bills, replying to emails, tracking expenses. I have to really amp myself up for this kind of admin work and I’ve trained Claude to by my hype bot buddy.

3:00 pm — Jump on a call with Greg Bresnitz, a fellow entrepreneur-in-residence at the accelerator program we’re in this summer to get his advice on partnerships, intentional growth, and architecting adult joy.

4:00 pm — Call with our designer Talia Cotton and team looking at some early app design screens. We’ve been doing user interviews and talking about what we want to build for months and months now so seeing actual screens is mega exciting!

4:45 pm — Bike ride home (with the skirt now fully banished to my bag), grateful for the wind in my hair and movement after a big work day.

5:00 pm — Switch off with my partner Philippe who’s been on daughter duty post-day camp and is eager to get some work done.

5:30 pm — Viva wants to watch "K Pop Demon Hunters" for the THIRD time this week. I happily acquiesce because I am absolutely zonked (and also the movie is fun with a very wholesome Brené Brown message). We have a snuggly TV dinner together and sing along to Golden.

7 pm — Viva gets a second wind and suggests a walk. It's a beautiful evening and I remember my friend Jules is doing a dance event nearby. I could honestly use a routine remix so we get going.

7:15 pm — We arrive at Domino Square where Jules and her Good Move dance studio are leading a collaborative performance. Viva immediately wants to join, and despite us having zero rehearsal, I agree. When in doubt, improvise!

8 pm — A 6-year-old approaches and asks Viva to be her "mirror partner." They spend 10 minutes copying each other's moves with serious concentration. When "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" comes on, we all run into a circle, doing enthusiastic step-touch moves and waving our arms in the air. Something I love about New York is that we are doing this in the middle of a public square for the entertainment of everyone passing by.

8:30 pm — Viva's new friend invites us for dinner with her family. I love their instant 6-year-old connection and am pro-spontaneity so we go (even though we already ate). Viva has a stack of pancakes.

9:45 pm — Home past bedtime. Quick teeth brushing, PJ scramble, and I read "Words With Wings & Magic Things" then help Viva fall asleep by making up a cozy cabin visualization: I describe a fireplace crackling, rain falling outside, a kitten purring in her lap. She falls asleep as I snuggle her, and I'm not far behind.

ZZZZZ — Dreams of kittens dancing to Whitney Houston

11:45 pm — I wake up as though I took a disco nap - full of energy! Make a tea and spend an hour doing some writing work, then switch off the computer and spend 10 minutes writing in my five-year journal.

1:00 am — Back to bed.

ZZZZZ — for real this time

Want to know more about what we’re building? Join our waitlist here and let's transform everyday moments into creative adventures together!

When I was a kid, my dad came home one day fizzing like a shaken soda. At the dinner table, he revealed the source of his excitement: Ben & Jerry's was having a contest to invent a new flavor, and the prize was a lifetime supply of free ice cream!

Our eyes widened, and we began to salivate, imagining a freezer full of Cherry Garcia, our favorite flavor.

We immediately got into brainstorming. My dad proposed strawberry rhubarb (very him), I lobbied hard for peanut butter banana toast (very me), but then my brother suggested… root beer float flavor. We went quiet and exchanged conspiratorial glances. This was it. Winner winner, ice cream dinner.

In the following days, our kitchen was transformed into a laboratory filled with the sweet aroma of vanilla ice cream churning and the earthy, slightly medicinal smell of root beer, counters cluttered with measuring cups, and a freezer packed to the brim with various concoctions.

While Root Beer Float ice cream was simple in concept, it was fiendishly tricky in execution. We wanted the smoothness of vanilla contrasted against the medicinal, herbaceous root beer flavor, with surprising pops of carbonation. We spent weeks and weeks perfecting our recipe.

We froze root beer, but it turned icy, losing its bold flavor. We tried making a root beer-flavored syrup to swirl in, but, though it had the punch we wanted, it lacked the effervescence of soda. We even tried making homemade Pop Rocks but realized they fizz out when added to the ice cream. We were undeterred and kept going, attempt after attempt, in search of the perfect concoction.

In the fun of the process, we lost the plot, forgot about the prize, and in the end we never submitted an entry. Our interest fizzled, we went back to school, and the contest became a sparkling summer memory.

Years later, I was at Ben & Jerry's with a friend when I spotted "Root Beer Float My Boat" as a limited-edition flavor on the menu. My heart nearly stopped. I ordered it immediately, took one bite, and... it was all wrong. Too sweet, not enough bite, zero carbonation magic. Our imperfect attempts had been better than this one that made the menu.

I went home and told my family about this tragic ice cream injustice, and despite the sting of the lifetime supply of ice cream that got away, we were flooded with fond memories of that summer of kitchen experiments and sticky determination.

Later, recounting the story to a friend, I decided to research the contest details. Did I get a surprise! Turns out, my dad had gotten his wires VERY crossed and it wasn't a contest for creating your own flavor at all—it was an essay contest and the prize winner got to be the new CEO of Ben & Jerry's. (The runner-up essayists got a lifetime supply of ice cream.)

We had spent months perfecting ice cream recipes for a contest that called for essays. The absurdity of all of us enthusiastically running towards an imaginary goalpost is very on brand for my family.

Though we didn’t succeed in the way we initially wanted to, I still got a prize. I won the joy of the process, the thrill of getting lost in my own world of tinkering, fueled by play. I got to see that "failure"—a batch that was too icy or not fizzy enough—wasn't an end but a stepping stone to the next jubilant attempt.

We live in a culture obsessed with achievement and productivity, where side quests and delightful diversions are generally frowned upon. Everything must have a point, a purpose, a measurable outcome, or else why bother? How many passions have we abandoned because they didn't lead anywhere 'productive'?

I sometimes struggle with wanting all my life efforts to be "for something," and judging myself for the fizzled quests, the contests lost, the half-baked attempts. But then I think about that summer of experimenting and I'm reminded that not every pursuit needs to be seen to an end, an enjoyable escapade can be just that.

I think about my summer of root beer floating often—it's a core memory that reminds me that in the messy laboratory of life, sometimes the most beautiful thing you can do is spend months chasing your own wild interests, getting absolutely nowhere, and yukking it up the whole time.

The next time I ask “what's the point?” as I’m doing something I enjoy, I will answer myself with the giddy fizz of a shaken soda: “The point is play. The point is joy. The point is a meandering diversion that makes you feel connected and alive.”

What meandering diversion is calling to you right now? What would you chase if the only point was play?

How many times have you craved connection with a friend and defaulted to "want to grab dinner?" Over dinner, you catch up with life updates, share some photos, maybe talk about shared friends — but leave feeling like you stayed on the surface when what you really want is that deeper sense of knowing each other.

Bringing play into your friendships is powerful for diving past the surface. When we laugh together, get curious, or try something new side-by-side, we're building a unique language of shared experiences and inside references that become the foundation for intimacy. And we’re seeing each other in new lights, revealing freshly loveable new quirks and facets.

I recently had a fun conversation with for her Substack Forevers: A Place for Friends, where we talked about how to invite more playfulness into adult friendships.

Here are seven ways to get started…

1. Find Your Starting Point

Everyone has a different play style and different things that they find fun. So, a good starting point is noticing what kind of play you and your friend each enjoy — what lights each of you up and makes time disappear? Maybe you enjoy the same things or maybe what you enjoy is slightly different. Look for a middle ground.

Try this: "Let's each name five things we've been wanting to try but haven't before." Maybe they've been dying to try line dancing, or you've been wanting to check out an art cafe. Is there overlap on the list thematically? Get intel on hidden desires and plan novel expeditions together.

2. Excavate Joy from Childhood

Ask your friends what they loved doing as kids, then create grown-up versions.

Maybe you're not going to play with dolls as an adult, but there might be an element of role play there that could translate into hosting a murder mystery party or even just goofing around and pretending to be different characters.

Try this: During your next catch-up, share childhood play memories. "I loved arts and crafts—should we try that pottery painting place?" or "Remember how we'd choreograph routines? Let's learn that TikTok dance together." Look for the essence of what made those activities fun, not just the literal activity.

3. Give Each Other Permission to Be Bad

Create psychological safety by embracing imperfection.

People often hesitate to play because they don't feel psychologically safe. Play is vulnerable. Creating that safety might look like giving permission. You could say, "I'm not a great singer, but I love karaoke—maybe we can get a private room and just have fun?" Or draw badly, or dance badly, or whatever it is. Play is meant to be anti-perfectionist.

Try this: When suggesting a playful activity, lead with your own imperfection. "I'm terrible at mini golf, but it's so fun to be terrible together," or "I can't draw, but want to do some terrible sketches while we catch up?" This gives your friend permission to be imperfect too.

4. Master the Art of Spontaneous Diversions

Suggest little playful detours in the moment.

I went to dinner with my friend Liz recently. After we ate, we walked outside, and I saw that the playground across the street was empty, so I suggested, “Let’s go swing!” It was such a fun little diversion that turned an ordinary dinner into something memorable… seeing the inner child in my friend!

Try this: Next time you're out with a friend, suggest a small adventure. "Let's peek into that bookstore," "Want to sit on that bench and people-watch for five minutes?" or "Should we take the long way home and see what we notice?" The key is keeping it low-pressure and spontaneous.

5. Use Play As A Tool for Tricky Times

Sometimes a friend is going through a tough time, but they don't want to talk it through. Play can offer a different kind of support.

Recently a friend was dealing with relationship drama but mentioned feeling "talked out" from all the advice and analysis. So instead of another coffee date dissecting her problems, I suggested we go paint pots at an art cafe. Working with our hands while chatting lightly ended up being exactly what she needed—connection without the pressure to dive deep.

Try this: When someone's struggling, consider offering gentle play alternatives alongside emotional support. "Do you want to talk about it, or want to do something that gets us out of our heads for a bit?" Maybe it’s doing something creative together, going on a Wonder Wander, or watching a funny movie together. Sometimes moving our bodies or engaging our hands creates space for feelings to shift naturally, without forcing positivity or ignoring what's real.

6. Routine Remix

You can weave playfulness into your standard dinner dates, drinks, or walks. Small shifts in how you spend time together can deeply change how connected you feel.

Try this:

• Dinner + doodles: Bring markers and paper to your meal and doodling prompts

• Drinks + "Would You Rather": Pack a conversation starter book

• Coffee + Color Collecting: Turn your café catch-up into a to-go hunt for interesting colors or shapes

• Movie night + costume box: Everyone wears something silly from your closet

You're not reinventing your friendship routines—just adding a playful twist that makes familiar activities feel fresh.

7. Share Inspiration and Take Action

The idea: Pass along playful ideas you discover and take turns planning little adventures.

Try this: Start sending each other TikToks, Reels, or articles about fun activities: a stamp collecting walk through the neighborhood, painting in the park, a new dance class, quirky local events. Then actually follow through! Take turns being the "play planner" who picks something from your shared inspiration collection and makes the Play Date happen. This builds momentum and ensures you're both contributing ideas.

Building Your Shared Play Language

After you've tried a few of these, something cool starts happening: you begin building a unique language of playfulness that becomes shorthand for deeper connection. My friends and I now say "Want to do a Wonder Wander?" and everyone knows it means walking around looking for interesting details together.

This shared vocabulary becomes the sparkle of your friendship—not just knowing each other's work drama and weekend plans, but having a whole collection of inside jokes and 'remember when we...' stories that make you both crack up. That’s because a play state is when we're most open and exploratory. Our guard is down. We let ourselves be our weird, wild, free-flowing selves.

And the more you practice creating these moments with friends, the more natural it becomes to suggest the next adventure, the next experiment, the next way to turn an ordinary hangout into something memorable. You’re building a friendship that feels alive and crackling with inside jokes, buzzing energy, and spontaneous adventure.

You can read my full conversation with about playful friendships here. What's your favorite way to play with friends? Drop a comment and let us know!

Need more ideas for playful outings?

Welcome to our creative play practice series—micro moments of creativity that fit into the margins of busy lives. Because daily creative play keeps the blahhhs at bay.

The Practice: Color Collection

When I'm feeling meh or stuck in a funk, I take myself on Wonder Wanders. I leave the house with the mission to tune my senses to the frequency of delight, and search out little beauties, amusements, and things I haven’t noticed before. I look up! I look down! I get wayyy up close to things and examine them in detail. It’s a way of stirring up glimmers of joy when I'm feeling disconnected.

Wonder Wanders tap into what psychologists call "soft fascination"—sights and sensations that gently capture our attention without overwhelming us. Unlike the exhausting focus that screens and daily stress demand, this effortless engagement allows our minds to wander and restore.

I have many flavors of Wonder Wander, but one of my favorites is the Color Collection excursion.

First I ask myself: what feeling do I want to invite in today? Then I assign that feeling a color and go out looking for it. So, for example, if I’m feeling full of doubt, I might decide I need trust and go out looking for deep blue. Or perhaps I’ve been feeling fugly and I want to feel more like a princess so I look for regal purple. Each time, what I need and what I look for is different.

On a recent Color Collection walk I needed an energy boost, so I decided to look for JOLT-OF-ENERGY ORANGE: a dose of visual vitamin C for my depleted self.

As I bopped around the city on errands, I collected hits of orange with my eyes. A blood orange Vespa streaking by, tangerine flowers offering good cheer, construction barricades so bright they slapped me awake, and even a towering oversized orange sitting comically by the side of the road. Each pop was like a visual spell, rewiring my mood.

First, you notice what's going on inside (Am I feeling blah? Anxious? Need some joy?), then you turn that awareness outward and hunt for exactly what you need in the world around you.

See the neighborhood with clue-seeking eyes, find bursts of your chosen feeling painted across storefronts, tucked into flower boxes, and blazing across someone's sneakers. Once you’ve filled your imaginary color-collecting bucket, take a peek back inside your heart and see if anything shifted. You might be surprised at the difference a little color can make!

Can't get outside? No problem! You can absolutely do this practice indoors—I spent one afternoon hunting for pops of pink throughout my apartment and found many cheerful moments: a searing neon zine, a rosie construction paper heart, a strawberry stuffie reaching for a huggie.

Try It Yourself

What color is calling to your spirit this week? Pick your feeling, choose your color, then go fill your color prescription. Turn your next expedition—whether it's around the block, across the city, or tour of your own apartment—into a wonder wander. Let your eyes become collectors, gathering visual doses of whatever it is you’re craving.

Maybe you need ocean blue for calm, or sunshine yellow for energy, or peachy pink for warm fuzzies.

Drop your color choice in the chat and let us know what you discover.

From our Noomie Community:

Serena Maris in California did a Color Collecting expedition looking for blue tranquility. Here’s what she found…

Join Our Creative Crew In The Chat

Share creative play prompts, sparks of joy, and space to get curious and cheer each other on in our creative exploration. Hope to see you all there!

Last month I shared the weird, whimsical things I do in a regular day and, anticipating our summer holiday coming up, imagined I’d do another Play Chronicle from vacation. But rather than share an idyllic day from our trip, I decided that I’d diary the less glamorous travel day — cramped legs in coach, jet lag with a 6-year-old, sleepy entry into family dynamics in a foreign country.

That’s because these are exactly the moments when playfulness becomes my most valuable tool for moving through the sloggy parts of life (and travel) with more grace and connection. When patience is running thin, when family conversations feel stilted, when you're all just trying to figure out how to be together, that's when a little creative engagement can transform everything.

This is how play helped us navigate our jet lagged entry, and turned a day of getting through into an adventure…

Play Chronicles — Saturday, July 5th

11:00 am — The lights flicker on at the end of our overnight flight to Germany. My 6-year-old daughter Viva has been sleeping on my lap for 7 hours, and while I'm exceedingly grateful she slept, my legs have been partially numb since hour two. I feel a touch frayed at the edges, but we made it!

11:45 am — We disembark and make our way through immigration to the luggage carousel. As we wait for our bags, I do some leg stretches to revive my poor gams. I challenge Viva to copy me so I’m not the only one balancing on one leg in tree pose in the middle of the airport.

12:15 pm — We board the train from Frankfurt to Cologne. The German countryside rushes past our window.

12:30 pm — I stare sleepily out the window with Viva, playing the most low-energy round of "I Spy" in history. "I spy something... green." "The trees?" "Yep." She falls asleep on my lap again (I clearly excel in my role as human pillow) and I try to catch some shut-eye too.

1:30 pm — We exit the train station and take a cab to my mother-in-law Rita's house. She's sitting outside her apartment on the street waiting for us and waves wildly when we pull up.

2:00 pm — For Viva's entertainment during travel, I packed an activity book, some thin books, and let her fill a small pouch with tiny toys. She immediately commandeers the living room floor, lining up unicorns with purpose.

2:15 pm — We have lunch on my mother in law’s balcony: seedy bread, cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes, soft boiled eggs. Hits the spot.

3:00 pm — I attempt a nap, but Viva isn't tired and keeps waking me up every two minutes with urgent questions like "Mama, do capybaras like swimming?" Between questions and getting poked, sleep is impossible. I'm starting to feel grumpy.

3:45 pm — Philippe wakes up from his 45-minute nap (the audacity!) in the other bedroom and I announce, "I'm taking a 45-minute nap" and lock the bedroom door to preserve my peace. They head out to the playground.

6:00 pm — I wake to my family banging on the door yelling "Mama P! You have been asleep for THREE HOURS!!" I emerge from the bedroom in a complete haze and am met with howls of laughter when they see my stupefied face and cockatoo-like bedhead. Apparently, my 45-minute nap had other plans.

6:30 pm — Before heading to dinner, I try to prep Viva mentally for a "boring adult dinner." I pack colored pencils and books as backup entertainment and cross my fingers.

7:00 pm —We meet my in-laws (divorced but best friends) at their favorite Italian restaurant. The waiter keeps calling my father-in-law, Fino, "schatzi" (sweetie), which I find extremely endearing.

7:10 pm — The olive oil at the Italian restaurant features a smiley face made in balsamic vinegar. Viva and I take great care to dip our bread gingerly so we don't smear the happy face.

7:15 pm — While Viva colors, I ask everyone about their favorite family trips we've taken together over the years. The stories start flowing.

8:00 pm — Viva gets antsy sitting at the table, so I take her across the street to a park. The birds are chirping, and I suggest, "What if we lay in the grass and listen to the sounds?" She finds the perfect patch of soft grass in the sunshine and lays on top of me. I tell her, "The highlight of my day is happening right now!"

8:15 pm — She wants me to do airplane, so I balance all 55 pounds of her on my legs while holding her hands and letting her "fly." This is adorable until she gets the zoomies and starts jumping on me with WWF-style moves. Fearing she might snap one of my ribs, I suggest we head back because our food has probably arrived. She doesn't want to leave, so I start running: "Try to catch me!" She follows, giggling.

8:30 pm — Back at the dinner table, Viva and I pull out a "Would You Rather" book and pose questions to each other while the others converse in German over bowls of pasta. "Would you rather have to give a big important speech or dance in front of a thousand people?" "Would you rather only be able to wash your hair once a month or only brush your teeth once a month?"

9 pm — My father-in-law works in hospitality and mentions he's tired from his many social obligations at work. I suggest we hire actors to extract him from events… maybe a detective who needs to interview him, or an angry woman who storms in screaming "You bastard!" and throws a shoe at him. He laughs and gives me an appreciative squeeze. Problem-solving through absurdity is my specialty.

9:15 pm — We all take a moment to appreciate the Italian pop covers playing in the background and play name that tune when a familiar song comes on.

9:30pm — Viva’s playing with her figurines and I ask the group which figurine best represents their spirit. Everyone gives choosing a surprising amount of thought: the adults all select a goofy-looking purple bunny as their avatar and Viva decides she’s the lime green cat that lives in a cupcake. I choose to be the prancing unicorn, just to be different.

10:00 pm — We head home and walk along the Rhine River. Viva and I use the railing at the river's edge as a ballet barre and do some pliés.

11:00 pm — Back at the apartment, Viva is playing with figurines and claims not to be tired. We are exhausted. I bring a pillow, blanket, and toothbrush to her and announce, "If you want to stay up, you can sleep on the couch. I'm going to bed!" Suddenly, she decides she's tired after all. Reverse psychology for the win.

11:30 pm — Viva is still buzzing with energy, so I do a visualization for her: She's on a houseboat in the rain, hearing raindrops on the roof and feeling gentle waves. There's a fire crackling inside the boat, and she snuggles up in front of it. A kitten curls up next to her, and she pets it, feeling the vibrations as it purrs. She finally drifts off, and I'm fast behind her.

3:00 am — I wake up unable to fall back asleep (hello, jet lag!), so I get up and write longhand in my journal while watching the sun come up. It's Pride weekend, and I can hear the distant sounds of celebration. I had “watch a sunrise” on my summer want-to-do-list so I note that, as tired as I am, I’m checking the box here.

4:30 am — I finally head back to bed.

ZZZZZ — Dreams of airplane legs and prancing unicorns.

As adults, our natural instincts for whimsy and wonder often get buried under the mounds of laundry, the Slack notifications, the shoulds and supposed tos. It’s tragic, honestly. We need nudges to remember to play and, sometimes, the tools to remember how to do it in the first place.

That's where the right supplies come in… not as magic bullets, but as little instigators, sparks that might just reignite something you thought you'd outgrown. I've organized these summer play-starters into categories that celebrate different flavors of aliveness. Consider this your official permission slip to be ridiculous and enjoy your summer play starter pack…

PICNIC PICK ME UPS: For lounging with friends and soaking up the sunniest season

Poketo Bamboo Dinner Plate Set, $48 *AAPI-women-owned business

Baggu Picnic Blanket (multiple prints available), $70 *AAPI-women-owned business

Monikers Card Game, $25.99

Bumpboxx Wearable Speaker, $69.99

Coming Soon Bottle Cooler, $145 *LGBTQIA+women-owned business

Business & Pleasure Striped Picnic Set, $229

PLEIN AIR PLAY STATION : For on-the-go artsy adventures in the outdoors

Studio Wald Mini Flower Press, $10 (full-size options here)

Twee Shell-Shaped Sidewalk Chalk, $12 *women-owned business

Grabie Foldable Paint Palette, $39.99

Super Sunprint Kit, $19.99

Baggu Travel Pouch Set, $36 *AAPI-women-owned business

Portable Watercolor Pencil Set, $29.99

SANDY SHENANIGANS: For water-side moments that send your spirits soaring

Ice Pop Maker Set, $14

Sunflow Shaded Beach Chair, $165

Dreyfus Playing Cards, $18

Wave Delta Kite, $64.99

Igloo Retro Picnic Basket Cooler, $52.99

Tribit Mini Portable Speaker, $39.99

MOVEMENT & MAYHEM: For letting your wild side run free with physical play

Waboba Wingman Pro Disk, $12.99

Magnolia Travel Bocce Set, $50

Cailini Beach Tennis Set, $28

Kim Su Yeol Luxury Stars Jump Rope, $20 *AAPI-owned business

Tug-O-Wobble Balancing Game, $49.99

GARDEN GANG: For sprouting smiles while getting your hands dirty

Folding Garden Stool, $49

Modern Sprout Seed Confetti Poppers, $6.99 *women-owned business

Goodee Watering Can, $345 *Black-owned business

Ban.do Color-Blocked Gardening Bag, $34.95

Fresh Cut Flower Tote, $17

SPLASH ZONE: For sprinkles of silly joy at the pool, beach, or park

Funboy Inflatable Mushroom Sprinkler, $39

Funboy Lip Pool Float, $69

E-Know Big Bubble Wands, $10.98

Soppycid Reusable Water Balloons, $15.99

Sunnylife Skim Ball Set, $15

WONDER WANDERERS: For whimsical adventures in the big wide world

Nocs Waterproof Binoculars, $95

Silo Bird Feeder, $75 *Black-owned business

Eno Single Nest Hammock, $54.95

Fenix Outdoor Head Lamp, $29.95

Stellarscope Star Locator, $49.95

MEMORY MAKERS: For capturing your favorite playful moments from this summer!

Martina Calvi The Art of Memory Collecting, $24.99

Kodak Printomatic Instant Camera, $69.99

Midori Gasa Gasa Letter Set, $7.95

Squiggles Washi Tape, $14 *women-owned business

Juice Box Collage Kit, $11.06

Kikkerland Portable Pocket Scissors, $6.95

Alphabet Rubber Stamps, $19.99

These tools are just excuses to remember that fun isn't frivolous—it's essential. We get 80 summers if we’re lucky, so may yours be a playful one!

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If you know someone who would love this list (or who you want to subtly nudge to play more), send it their way.

Hi Noomies!

What a fun week. Our first micro-creativity challenge just wrapped and I'm buzzing from all the playful discoveries you shared. If you missed it or want to jump in this weekend, please do—creativity doesn't follow a schedule and neither do we!

I wasn't sure if folks would join something so spur-of-the-moment, but you DID! And it was so cool seeing how this little experiment brought us together from all over—NYC to Sydney to Athens—all finding magic in our everyday moments.

Here's What We Discovered

5-Word Introductions Your 5-word intros alone made me smile and want to know you all more. From Allison's "Dessert loving optimistic fun-aunt 😊" to MG's "silly fast spanglish speaking writer" to Shilpi sharing her "singing twirling-in-a-dress joy seeking scribbler!" energy… what a vibrant group of humans hath entered the chat!

Day 1: Find A Face So many personalities unearthed! Some of the found faces got names (shoutout to "Mr Frowney" who Aakansha met at the gym), some were mischievous, and once we started seeing them we couldn’t stop. Alysia nailed what happened to all of us: "I see faces in every car truck and school bus I saw today."

What made it magic: It was a beautiful reminder that our imaginations are always ready to answer our call! Characters and narratives sprang from thin air ready to delight us all. I love when creativity training is disguised as a silly game.

Day 2: Color Collecting Your color hunts turned ordinary days into treasure maps! But what really got me was how your color choices became windows into what you were seeking—like Shilpi's green for "RENEW, REFRESH and RENOURISH" or Amber choosing yellow to brighten a gloomy day. It felt like getting to know what each of you through your color selects. And then the color coalitions and exchanges started happening—people spotting purple and green in their worlds and calling out "green delivery!"

What made it magic: You proved that when you're hunting for one specific thing, suddenly dozens of details you usually miss become visible.

Day 3: Sensory Field Notes This one wowed me. Three minutes of writing and suddenly our worlds got richer and more poetic. Samantha's "dry tumbling of everything bagel seeds onto parchment paper," Killem’s description of “searing sunlight,” and Sarrah's winter scene from Sydney with "cold air on the tip of my nose." You opened sensory portals that I traveled through! Misha shared what many of us experienced: “I was convinced I wasn’t going to hear any interesting noises and then the other flats came alive!”

What made it magic: Our brains filter out over 99.9% of sensory info to keep us from being overwhelmed, so this was like a magic trick to let some of that overlooked, whizzing world back in.

Day 4: Framed! Toilet paper tubes became telescopes, vintage bracelets became viewfinders, and suddenly everyone was seeing compositional possibilities everywhere. Angela focused on her tortoise Jupiter (who looked at her quizzically wondering “is it feeding time?”), Nikki peered at her apartment through a wavy lil incence holder. You flexed your improv muscles finding frames everywhere and practiced seeing like artists do.

What made it magic: Framing forces you to see in new ways and discover new compositional choices. Even within your own homes, you found new vantage points and ways of seeing.

Day 5: Imaginary Award Ceremony Time for celebration! Lakshmi's award "for noticing things with sharpened senses," Philippe’s tiger trophy for taking time out of morning routines "to do things I'd never otherwise do." Sam’s goat award because “I am the G.O.A.T. version of myself when I remember to make time to play.” (YES!)

What made it magic: Celebration rewires your brain to notice what's going well instead of what's missing. By recognizing ourselves for our little wins, we build momentum for bigger creative risks.

The Creative Magic? You Already Had It

Here's what was crystal clear: creativity isn’t about special talents or fancy supplies. It's about willingness to see ordinary moments differently. You proved that with just curiosity and five minutes, any day can become more alive, playful, and interesting.

Want to Keep Playing?

The challenge threads are still live and welcoming! Jump in this weekend with any (or all) that spark your curiosity:

• Day 1: Find A Face

• Day 2: Color Collecting

• Day 3: Sensory Field Notes

• Day 4: Framed!

• Day 5: Award Ceremony

Try one while you're waiting for coffee, another during a boring conference call, or all five during a lazy Sunday afternoon.

What's Next?

This was just the beginning! We’re already plotting our next micro-creativity adventure (thinking: a week of "tiny rebellions" or "everyday experiments"). Keep an eye on your inbox and the chat for more playful shenanigans.

Until then, keep finding faces, hunting colors, and celebrating the small wins. Your everyday creativity muscles are stronger than you think.

With so much play and appreciation,

Piera

P.S. If you shared in the challenge, thank you for bringing your playful spirit to our little corner of the internet. If you lurked and absorbed, that counts too. And if you're just reading this now thinking "this sounds fun," the invitation is always open. 💫

Here’s what I believe: creative living is less about the grand feats (the novel! the film! the 5-course meal!) and more about the tiny daily acts that make ordinary life ooze with juicy possibility. It's choosing to notice the shadows dancing on a wall, braiding whimsy into your morning routine, or recognizing that boring moments can be breeding grounds for inspiration.

NoomaLooma is here to help you cultivate that kind of expansive, everyday creativity. And this is our very first micro-creativity challenge together (whoot!). We're starting with something simple but powerful: learning to find wonder in the mundane. Over the next five days, we’re cultivating our powers of NOTICING — and we hope you’ll join us!

The Deal: This challenge requires about 5 minutes a day. No special skills required. Just your curiosity and willingness to see ordinary moments differently.

Throughout the week, I’ll be dropping the daily challenge into the chat, along with encouragement, inspiration, and my own discoveries. Join, cheer each other on, and see how tiny pockets of creative play keep the blahhhs away.

5-Day Micro Creativity Challenge

First, Introduce Yourself

Before we dive in, introduce yourself to the group in the chat with your name and 5 words that capture your creative spirit. Don’t overthink it, just flow with the first words that feel right.

Examples:

• Piera: Pink partying silly improv mommy

• Viva: Reader snuggled with a book

• Lakshmi: Curious crafting questing lifelong kindergartener

• Sam: Colorful cool joy-boosting pixie babe

Day 1: Find A Face

The Challenge: Hunt for accidental faces in your environment. Look for things that could be eyes and something that could be a mouth—electrical outlets, car fronts, whatever catches your eye (and winks back at you ;-)

How to do it: As you move through your day, let your eyes wander with the specific mission of finding faces. Take a quick pic when you spot one and share it in the chat. (Or if you want to make a face out of two blueberries and an orange slice — or anything else — be my guest.)

Why: This gives your pattern-recognition powers something fun to do instead of cycling through your mental to-do list. It's like hide-and-seek for your noggin.

Day 2: Color Collecting

The Challenge: Pick one color that represents the mood or energy you want to bring into your day, then collect 3-5 examples of that color throughout your day.

How to do it: Choose your color in the morning (maybe it's the calming blue you need, or an energetic orange to juice you up). Then document every time you spot it—your coffee mug, a street sign, someone's jacket, a flower. Quick phone pics work perfectly. Share your collection with us at the end of the day in the chat.

Why: When you're hunting for one specific thing, you suddenly notice dozens of details you usually miss. It's like suddenly finding a treasure map to follow.

Day 3: Sensory Field Notes

The Challenge: Spend 3 minutes writing down every sound, smell, feeling, and taste you can sense right now, from obvious to barely-there.

How to do it: Sit wherever you are and make a list by hand (something magical happens when you write with a pen). Try to go beyond "traffic" or "music" and get specific and playful. "Car alarm symphony," "melting coffee aftertaste," "elbows melding with wood desk." (Maybe it will read like a poem or an album track list). Share your field notes with us in the chat.

Why: This is meditation disguised as a creative exercise. Three minutes of active sensing is more refreshing than three minutes of scrolling, and it trains your brain to notice subtleties everywhere.

Day 4: Framed!

The Challenge: Make a viewfinder and look through it until something catches your eye in a new way.

How to do it: Use your hands to make a finger frame, cut a shape out of paper, or grab any object with an opening (a toilet paper tube works as a great telescope!) Move it around your space—look through it at different angles, distances, and subjects until something looks surprisingly interesting. Snap a pic through your makeshift frame and share it with us in the chat.

Why: Framing helps you to see new compositional choices. Plus, it's impossible to frame something without slowing down and really looking, so it’s an instant mindfulness hack.

Day 5: Imaginary Award Ceremony

The Challenge: Find an object around you and declare it an award. Give yourself a trophy for participating in this week of creative noticing.

How to do it: Grab anything—a coffee mug, a star sticker, a houseplant, your stapler. Hold it up and announce what you're being awarded for. Find something specific you want to celebrate yourself for. "This coffee mug goes to me for most creative use of dead time this week!" or "This stapler represents my achievement in finding faces where none existed before!" Share your award in the chat so we can celebrate with you.

Why: Celebration rewires your brain to notice what's going well instead of what's missing. Plus, giving yourself credit for small wins builds momentum for bigger creative risks. (Also, it's silly fun.)

All illustrations by Abbie Winters for NoomaLooma

Join the Creative Play Break Club!

Head to our NoomaLooma Substack chat to share your discoveries, cheer each other on, and see what creative treasures everyone finds. No judgment, just curiosity and celebration.

The only rule? There are no rules. Just five days of paying attention differently.

Ready to turn ordinary moments into creative goldmines? Let's go!

Drop your 5-word creative autobiography in the chat and let’s get started...

Earlier this week I wrote about the importance of play in adulthood, but then I thought, hey, it might help to show what playfulness looks like in action during a regular day in my life. So I made this diary to illustrate.

Nothing exciting happened on paper this Wednesday: I got my daughter off to school, did Zoom calls, worked, picked my daughter up, made dinner, put her to bed. Not exactly a day that makes you say “I gotta tell the world about this one!” Yet, my day still sang: I transformed odious tasks, laughed, and found moments of whimsical connection, thanks to approaching things playfully.

In my upcoming book, I give this definition: To be playful is to be curiously and creatively engaged with life.

It’s the spirit that can transform a “boring” day like this into one that’s kinda magical…

Play Chronicles — Wednesday, June 18th

6:30 am — “Wake up mama, it’s light outside!” my daughter Viva calls. It’s too early but she wants to get up because she’s excited to be the type of girl who takes a shower in the morning before school. I try to negotiate for more sleepytime but her new morning-shower-girl identity prevails.

7:00 am — When we’re showered and dressed, I pack up the 174th lunch of this school year (who’s counting?!) and make my daughter and I some breakfast. I have a little moment of reverie arranging the strawberries in an arc on our plates. It’s not Pinterest-worthy but I take small satisfaction in the presentation.

8:00 am — As I walk out of my building, I sing to our doorman Sammy operatically, “Happy Wednesdayyyyyyyy!” I sweep my arms upwards dramatically. It’s our silly tradition to greet each other daily in song.

8:01 am — My daughter and I walk to school and sing the Wonder Wander song. I’m working on some new NoomaLooma branding and thinking of playing with the Os. So I set Viva and I a challenge to look for interesting circles and Os as we walk. Our best find is two Os in the word “pool” that are filled in with water.

8:25 am — After my daughter has run through the schoolyard, I check in with my writing group: my friend Lydia, Liz, and I are in a book writing support group / cheer squad where we share daily voice notes back and forth on writing and life. I accidentally send a 7-minute stream of consciousness note narrating my walk and musing on book conclusions. When I realize it’s 7-minutes I say, “my college roommate told me that being in love means never having to say you’re sorry but I don’t really believe that. So, sorry not sorry.”

8:30 am — As I’m recording the voice note I see a family walking towards me and mistake them for close friends, I beam and wave enthusiastically at them only to realize they are actually a group of strangers. I need to wear glasses.

9:30 am — I end my first Zoom meeting of the day by holding my palms up to the screen and doing a virtual high five. This is a go-to move to make Zoom a bit less dull. The other people on the call wiggle their palms back at me and we chuckle.

10 am — I have to look at some legal paperwork which is the kind of work that I procrastinate at all costs because it makes me feel anxious and uninformed. But it has to get done so I put on the soundtrack to the animated film Luca and imagine I’m on a hero’s journey, I’m Luca diving into the depths of contracts. It’s not as bad as I thought and I feel heroic.

11 am — I do some creative direction work for my partner’s new coffee company Esspo. I’m making a mood board for the campaign shoot and I know it’s the kind of thing I get hyperfixated on and carried away down an endless image research rabbit hole. So I set an egg timer for 30 minutes and pull myself away when it buzzes.

12 pm — I put on an energetic focus playlist and work on my latest Substack article, doing final edits, formatting, and riffing on headlines. Once the writing is done, I dig into the box of magazine pages and paper scraps under my desk and make the collage artwork. It needs… something so I top it off with some googly eyes that are laying out on my desktop. I’m not sure I totally love it, but I gotta get it done so I give it points for being colorful and silly and call it good enough.

2:30 pm — After I publish my piece, I reward myself by filling in my star chart. Putting work into the world is nerve-wracking so I’m in the habit of rewarding the effort over the outcome. I like to make visual charts of my goals to track my effort. I color a star yellow with marker (my 18th “idea release” star this month!).

2:32 pm — I scrabble together lunch from what’s in the fridge. An open-faced hummus sandwich with cucumbers and tomatoes. I get a little fancy drizzling olive oil and harissa on top with flair.

2:50 pm — My partner Philippe is on a work call and looks very serious so I do a silly little dance across the room to try to amuse him. I fail to make him smile but at least I’ve amused myself.

3 pm — I have a call with a PR firm about my book and have fun discussing the different play personas and how different kinds of players can find things they enjoy together.

3:30 pm — I work on a 5-day creative challenge I’m planning and take some weird selfies through a water glass to test one of the prompts.

4:30 pm — I’m looking to pick up one more brand consulting client, and feel shy asking for referrals, so I use my effort-over-outcome method and draw 5 empty stars on an index card. As I send out my ask emails, I fill in my stars.

5:30 pm — I pick my daughter up from after-school and we stop on the walk home to wonder at a beautiful tree shadow on a mural wall and we deliberate on whether the shadow or the wall are more beautiful. We agree to disagree (I am team shadow, she is team wall).

6 pm — Our 5-year-old neighbor comes over to play and have dinner with us. She and my daughter have a running game where I am their aunt who adopted them after their parents died tragically in a boating accident. I don’t love this game but I humor them and play along.

6:30 pm — Philippe has been making fun of me for weeks for buying sweet potatoes (he claims I have a track record of overly optimistic vegetable purchases that die slow deaths in our crisper drawer), so I take TREMENDOUS pleasure in proving him wrong and whipping up a spiced sweet potato side dish to go with the dinner he’s making. Over dinner I repeatedly ask him how he’s enjoying the sweet potatoes.

7 pm — After dinner I am feeling momentarily bored so I announce to the children “Let’s play Healthy Food Runway Show!” I announce a healthy food and they must imitate that food as they walk/dance across the room (a la The Devon Maid). I provide commentary as they sashay “It’s giving, it’s giving, it’s Vitamin C, so colorful, so sweet, so Orange Juicy!” I’m having so much fun that they come for my job and decide they want to be the announcers which is fine with me because I’ve been wanting to do the interpretive dance anyway. I get to impersonate asparagus, strawberries, and blood orange while they commentate.

8:30 pm — Time to return our neighbor to her home and the kids want to play museum guard on the way. I carry a flashlight and they pretend to be statues that freeze when I point my flashlight at them but then move and make noise whenever I look away.

9 pm — After her dad has read to her, my daughter calls me in for my world famous snuggles. She’s a very high energy kiddo so I have her get the wiggles out by doing jumping jacks in bed. Then I do a visualization for her of two frogs in a magical bog with colorful butterflies flitting around. The mama frog blows a big bubble that protects the bog and keeps all creepy animals, people, and thoughts away. Eventually she drifts into dreamland and I creep out of her bed.

10:30 pm — I’m tired so I get in bed and write about the day in my 5 year journal and do a little doodle of the Healthy Food Runway Show in the margin.

11 pm — I lay in bed musing about writing this piece and fall asleep.

Welcome to Play 101, where I'll be breaking down the basics of play - giving you permission to prioritize it, backing up why it matters with science, and busting the myths that keep us from accessing our most creative, joyful selves.

Tell me if this sounds familiar: You're doing all the “right” things. You eat well, exercise, work hard, care for others - yet something is missing. You're functioning, but you're not exactly thriving. And in the moments where you expect to feel fulfilled, there is a quiet voice in the back of your mind asking, “Is this all there is?” The world pressures us to juggle tons of responsibilities in pursuit of a life that looks good on paper.

What if there's a missing piece that's entirely within your control - something you already knew how to do perfectly when you were six years old? What if that missing piece is play?

I know what you may be thinking. Play? Really? That's your big solution? I get it! We've been trained to believe that anything pleasurable must be frivolous and everything “productive” is virtuous. But the science tells a different story.

Just like we need to sleep and eat, humans also have an innate need (and drive) to play. That’s why, from the moment we’re born, our brains are hardwired for play. It’s that important!

The signs you need more play

When our body needs something, it lets us know. If you’re hungry, your stomach growls. If you’re tired, you start to yawn. Research shows the same is true for play! If you’re under-played, your spirit sends out SOS signals. You might feel disconnected, stuck in a rut, and like you're just going through the motions instead of actually living. Ring a bell?

On the flip side, when you're well-played, problems that felt overwhelming suddenly have creative solutions. You might find yourself more patient with your kids, more resilient after setbacks, and more optimistic about the future. Play connects us more deeply to ourselves, each other, and the world around us. And when we are connected, we are more adaptable and ready to take on life’s challenges .

What I mean when I say play

So, what is play exactly? Play is aliveness in motion. It's when your whole curious, creative, unguarded self shows up and engages. When you're following your “wants” rather than your “shoulds.” When you feel light, even if you're doing something challenging. When time slips away because you're fully absorbed in the moment.

This might look like getting swept up in a creative project, bantering back and forth via text, singing in the shower, or approaching a problem with curiosity instead of dread. It's any moment when you feel fully alive and engaged.

But do adults really need play?

We tend to think of play as kids stuff, and it’s true that children need play in order to learn about the world and build healthy social skills. Play is one of the earliest ways kids experience self-direction, helping them develop a sense of control and independence.

The mistake we make is assuming the perks of play vanish when we enter adulthood. But we never ever stop needing the creativity, connection, and resilience that play helps us build - in fact, we face bigger, more complex challenges that make those skills more vital.

Play also helps us process stress, boost our immune system, and maintain cognitive flexibility as we age. It's one of the best ways to shift out of fight-or-flight mode and into a state where we can think straight and get to solving your problems. Research even shows that playful adults live longer and report higher life satisfaction (!!).

So maybe you outgrew the playground (though swinging is always a good idea imo), but play itself is a lifelong essential!

What this looks like in our busy lives

You may be thinking: 'Okay, I'm convinced play is important, but what does that actually mean for my Wednesday afternoon?' Great question. As adults, we need both time to play (those moments of pure recreation and joy) AND the ability to live playfully (approaching our regular life with curiosity, lightness, and creativity). I know that carving out time for recreation isn't always realistic - sometimes we're in survival mode, and that's okay. But, with practice, we can almost always find small ways to bring a more playful spirit to whatever we're already doing.

If you're thinking 'But I don't even know what I find playful anymore,' you're not broken - you're just out of practice. Here are some clues to help you rediscover your play style:

• When do you naturally lose track of time? (scrolling doesn't count!)

• What kind of challenges light you up rather than drain you - like figuring out what to make for dinner from random fridge ingredients, or finding the perfect gift for someone?

• What makes you laugh?

• When do you feel most like yourself - curious, creative, unguarded?

• What did you love as a kid? Is there a grown-up version of that that sounds fun?

The answers might surprise you - play doesn't always look like what we expect.

Ready to Dive Deeper into Play?

This is exactly why I'm writing this newsletter (and my book The Playful Way) - because reclaiming play isn't just about scheduling more fun. It's about remembering how to engage with life itself more curiously, creatively, and joyfully. It's a practice, and like any practice, it gets easier the more we do it together.

Practice!

Read

• “Do You Play Enough? Science Says It's Critical to Your Health and Well-Being” (Newsweek)

• The Playful Mind is a Creative Mind by

• Why We Play: How to find joy and meaning in everyday life by Joanna Fortune
  

Watch

• "Play is more than just fun" TED Talk by Dr. Stuart Brown

• Brains At Play by NPR Ed

• “Why having fun is the secret to a healthier life” TED Talk by
  

Listen

• Play at Work: Brendan Boyle & Michelle Lee

• Play as an Energy Source from Unlocking Us with Brené Brown (Section discussing play starts at 24:00)

• The Power of Play & Courageous Joy with me on Vital Voice podcast

This weekend I went to New Jersey for a friend's annual backyard BBQ and pool party. It had just rained, and the air was thick with a blend of petrichor and charcoal smoke: earthy, primal, and potent.

While I made small talk and felt socially awkward, my daughter immediately claimed the pool as her kingdom, doing cannonballs and riding a pool noodle like a bucking bronco. Meanwhile, I'd made the mistake of not even bringing my bathing suit because I was too concerned about my unruly bikini line to fully show up for life.

Kids shrieked with delight in the pool, teenagers bounced on the trampoline, golden light filtered through dripping leaves… and it hit me: I'd been waiting for this all year. The summer season had arrived and here I was forfeiting a chance to dive into it.

Fortunately for us we get second chances to choose aliveness.

So I looked around at the party, took a deep breath, and chose to relish some of the seductive summer delights waiting for me to savor them. I devoured a juicy portobello burger with melted American cheese, licked the remnants of ice cream sandwich cookie off my sticky fingers, and when my daughter's favorite pop song came on, had a one-song dance party with her despite the fact that no one else was dancing. I started shedding my polite adult skin and stepping into something more unbridled.

As the sun went down and the adults drifted to a fire on the other side of the house, I found myself alone on an empty stretch of lawn, eyeing the zip line the kids had abandoned. In the gathering darkness, an ember inside me blazed and I said “fuck it.” I climbed up and rode that zip line over and over again, sensing the warm air brush my cheeks, my feet squelching in the mud with each trek up the hill, a huge grin on my face, tilted up towards the moon. There I was, a grown woman sailing through the dark on a children's toy, and it was truly fucking delightful.

Standing by the fire after with muddy feet and summer air in my lungs, I made a pact with myself: this summer, I choose messy joy over playing it safe.

And next time, I'm bringing my bathing suit and jumping in first.

The Art of Summer Aliveness

It's a crying shame how much boisterous, playful living we deprive ourselves of because we're worried about perfection, or looking foolish, or having a fuzzy bikini line. But here's what we know: we'll regret what we didn't do far more than what we did. So let's stop protecting ourselves out of actually living.

Summer is calling you to play: to get a little wild, a little messy, and to slow down and soak it up. Let your senses lead the way—taste the tart sweetness of ripe cherries, let grass tickle your toes, smell the lusciousness of a juicy peach, and chase the sensations that make you most human.

A summer love affair with being alive isn't about having the perfect body or the perfect plans. It's about embracing these essential truths:

1. Savor the temporal magic — Summer's fleeting nature makes every sensation more precious—collect them like rare gems before they disappear.

2. Lead with your senses — Let taste, touch, and smell guide your choices over your anxious mind. Your body knows how to find joy; your brain just needs to get out of the way.

3. Choose feral over refined — Mud between your toes beats perfectly pedicured feet. Wildness is not the opposite of beauty; it's the source of it.

4. Prioritize presence over perfection — The jiggly thighs get to swim. The awkward dancer gets to move. The imperfect moment gets to be lived fully.

It's time to loosen your grip on control and tighten your grip on delight. Your playful self has been waiting patiently all year for this moment. Don't keep them waiting any longer.

25 sensory joys for your summer want-to-do list:

1. Melt a chocolate bar in the sun and dip strawberries in it - Voila! Solar-powered fondue decadence

2. Lay outside under the stars — Experience awe and cosmic insignificance in the best possible way

3. Blow giant bubbles — Gather up a few supplies and create floating orbs of pure childhood magic

4. Have a summer fruit taste test — Pick the ripest, juiciest, most sumptuous selection from the fruit stand and spend focused time truly tasting them (or go all-out and give your fancy food critic commentary on each)

5. Go to a sweaty dance party — Sign your own permission slip to move freely, sweat profusely, and be gloriously present in your skin

6. Build a drip sandcastle — Dig your hands into the sand playing architect to a kingdom that'll be gone by high tide

7. Make (bad) art outside — Grab a blanket and make nature your art studio. Focus on the process over the outcome: draw a shadow, paint a flower, or do blind contour sketches of your friends

8. Have a silly jump competition into the pool — Give points for style, splash, and silliness and make aerial ridiculousness an Olympic sport

9. Bask in a sunset or sunrise — Get thee to a viewing spot and witness the daily miracle of light painting the sky

10. Float in a body of water — Eyes closed, chest to the sky, like a weightless human lily pad savoring the stillness

11. Seductively eat an ice cream cone — lol! Make vanilla scandalous (with or without an audience ;-)

12. Play cards in the park — Rummy with pals sprawled in the sunshine > Candy crush curled up by the light of your phone (Bonus points for learning a new game)

13. Listen to an insect symphony - The cricket orchestra is performing just for you

14. Fly a kite — Make the wind your play mate for an afternoon

15. Ride a bike through the park — with the wind in your hair and the world whizzing by

16. Make sun tea — Embrace in the slowness of letting the sun warm the gentlest brew

17. Touch the earth with bare toes — Ground yourself literally and figuratively

18. Smell a perfectly ripe tomato — Indulge in the scent that embodies summer abundance

19. Create art with sidewalk chalk — Turn pavement into your temporary canvas, with a side of hot asphalt smell

20. Make friendship bracelets like you're at summer camp — Craft tokens of connection with your hands

21. Run through a sprinkler (even if you’re fully clothed) — Shock your responsible adult self into remembering spontaneous glee

22. Follow fireflies — Be wowed by the royal wizards of the insect kingdom

23. Make a fort out of driftwood — Collaborate with nature on a creative project

24. Drive with the windows down, music up — Let the wind tousle your hair and sing along at the top of your lungs

25. Go night swimming — Soak up the magic of water sparkling under moonlight

What’s on your savoring summer list?

Your summer love affair with being alive starts now. What are you waiting for?

Leave a comment

For conversations on creative living with a playful posse, join our subscriber chat where I’ll be sharing low-stakes prompts, creative challenges, and inspiration

Welcome to a new series of creative play practices—bite-sized prompts that sprinkle creative joy into everyday life. These are micro moments of creativity that fit into the margins of busy lives, pockets of play that remind us to notice, wonder, and delight in making something with our hands. Because daily creative play keeps the blahhhs at bay.

The Practice: Micro Drawings

This year, I started doing tiny drawings in the top half-inch margin of my five-year journal. After I write a few lines about each day, I choose something I want to remember and I draw it quickly. I don’t time myself, but I’d say I spend about sixty seconds doing these lil sketches. They’re fast and imperfect little memorializations of moments I'd likely otherwise forget.

Sometimes these drawings capture glimmers of joy: my fresh painted nails cherry red in the sunshine, my daughter cradling a magnolia blossom like treasure, a brilliant cardinal spotted in the neighborhood oak tree. Other times, they transform unpleasant moments into comedy: my daughter and I caught in an unexpected downpour, the absurdity of getting my eyes suctioned at the optometrist, or a spectacular sidewalk wipeout with my shoe laying on the sidewalk by itself.

They also document moments I desperately want to imprint on my memory: the hypnotic way tall grass swayed in the afternoon breeze, having birthday cake delivered to me on the dance floor, my daughter wearing a paper bag as a dress doing a fashion show through the living room.

These sketches have become my favorite part of journaling. Revisiting the first half of my year in doodled vignettes fills me with appreciation for the bounty of life: the abundance of tiny joys, absurdities, and beautiful ephemera that fill our days but are so often underappreciated. Some drawings turn out adorably; others are laughably terrible, and I love them just the same.

The 1/2 inch space means I don’t have room for much detail so the drawings aren’t precious or labored and it’s freeing to create them just for the joy of it, a gift of memory to myself.

Try It Yourself

You don't need to commit to a daily practice—just try it out for a day. Grab whatever drawing tool you have handy and spend one minute micro-sketching something that caught your attention: be it a small joy, a comedic vignette, or a glimpse of beauty. Notice how the act of drawing makes you look more closely, remember more vividly, and find unexpected delight in the ordinary moments that make up your days.

I’d love to hear about what you drew.

Join Our Creative Play Posse In The Chat

We’re officially kicking off our NoomaLooma chat here on Substack to share creative play prompts, sparks of joy, and space to get curious and cheer each other on in our creative exploration. Hope to see you all there!

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A few weeks ago, I slipped into a balcony seat at BAM to watch and Jon Batiste's tour for The Book of Alchemy. The event centered on the idea of creative alchemy: turning the raw stuff of everyday life into something luminous and meaningful through the creative process.

It was a magical evening — part book talk, part concert, part living room conversation (on stage, the couple sat in a replica of their actual living room complete with a coffee table and comfy sofa).

At one point, Suleika described how Jon came to her hospital room with his band to serenade her with "When The Saints Go Marching In." Suddenly, Jon had a melodica in hand, and began jamming the song right there on stage, prompting all of us to sing along. It was play in its purest form—spontaneous, flowing, collaborative creativity that filled the entire theater, swelling it with joy and aliveness. Experiencing them together, as they fluidly moved from storytelling to making music to co-creating with the audience, was a living demonstration of creativity as life force.

In that lively theater, I recalled a conversation I had with Suleika while researching my upcoming book, The Playful Way. We talked about a time when Suleika (who has lived with cancer since she was 22) was feeling deeply stuck during her second bone marrow transplant. During past treatments, writing was her way through — and that writing became her acclaimed New York Times series “Life, Interrupted” and bestseller Between Two Kingdoms — but in the more recent round of treatment, the medication made her vision too unreliable to write. On top of her difficulty seeing, she was also experiencing medication-induced hallucinations and fever dreams. So she turned to watercolors to alchemize her experiences, and found that externalizing the terrifying visions onto canvas gave her “a way of engaging with them and playing with them and therefore defanging them."

Suleika began to refer to the practice of moving out of her primary medium (writing) and into ones she is less trained at (like watercolor) as creative cross-training and found it to be freeing and expansive to stretch new creative muscles.

Joni Mitchell had a similar approach that she called "crop rotation" for creativity. As she explained in a 1980 interview, "It's a natural thing for me to rotate my creative crops when I'm dried up as a poet." Like a wise farmer who knows that planting the same crop in the same soil depletes its nutrients, Mitchell understood that switching between music, painting, and poetry kept each practice fresh.

I’ve always found this to be true in my own work and life, too. When I felt completely burned out in my creative director work, I developed personal stories. When I was frozen with fear about public speaking, I took improv classes. When writing felt impossible, I'd go to dance class. Each time, warming up creativity in one corner seemed to thaw the other nooks and crannies. There's something about working in an unfamiliar medium that breaks the spell of being stuck.

Creating in mediums that are outside your expertise gives you permission to be gloriously, thrillingly bad. And there's something electric about that freedom—when you're not trying to be polished, creativity can flow in ways it never could when you were gripping expertise so tightly. Cross-training reveals that creativity isn't a fixed talent but a whole-body system that gets stronger with varied exercise.

For Suleika, getting out of her creative comfort zone helps her let loose. "I love watercolor because it resists perfection," she explained. "You can't control it. It's full of happy accidents. The paint is in collaboration with you and with water, and water has movement and momentum of its own."

The lessons learned from her watercolor experiments carried over when she was able to return to her writing. "Writing is so much more cerebral in a way, and you do have more control," she told me. "But I've learned so much about writing, about liberating myself from perfectionism, about play from watercolor." She also talked about how perfectionism becomes "its own kind of creative prison"—something I know many of us can relate to. We get so focused on doing things well that we forget how to leave room for the messiness and spontaneity that make it sing.

Her solution? Creating spaces that intentionally resist polish. For writing, she avoids what she calls “the tyranny of the backspace bar,” choosing to get off the computer and do first drafts longhand in yellow legal pads where “you can only cross out so much, you can't really neatly edit.” Sometimes she even puts a pseudonym at the top of a document just to trick herself out of that “space of expectation."

This is the deeper magic of creative cross-training: it doesn't just give us new skills, it liberates us from the pressure to get it “right” and shows us that creativity is not fixed, but fluid, and that with clever games and a little trickery, we can lure it out to play.

This is part of what makes The Book of Alchemy so beautiful—it's essentially 100 different forms of creative cross-training. Each contributor offers a different doorway into creativity, a different way of approaching the practice. Like her community project The Isolation Journals, it creates what Suleika outlines as the essential ingredients for sustainable creativity: "community and structure and accountability."

This is what creative cross-training really gives us: not just new skills, but a completely different relationship with our own shapeshifting aliveness. The happy accidents of watercolor teach us something about writing. The improvisation of performance reveals something about storytelling. The rhythm of dance unlocks something about the flow of words. One thing flows into another, transforming our lives and self expression in more ways than we can anticipate.

So here's my question for you: What medium might be calling to you as creative cross-training? Where could you give yourself permission to be beautifully, thrillingly terrible?

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You don't need to sign up for a pottery class tomorrow (though that might be fun!). Start small: write a two-minute rhyming poem, take a one-song dance break in your living room, doodle while you're on a call. Sometimes the smallest creative detours loosen us up to unlock the biggest breakthroughs.

"The Book of Alchemy" by Suleika Jaouad, featuring 100 contributors, is out now from Random House.

Order It Now

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