Anyone Else Wanna Come Out and Play?

On Touch, Belonging and Screens

“Go outside and play.”

For many of us, those words were an ordinary part of childhood. Nobody was presenting them as a parenting strategy or a nervous system intervention. We went outside, found other children, made things up, argued, made up and occasionally came home with scraped knees.

There was a lot of learning happening in all that living. We were moving our bodies, exploring our surroundings, navigating friendships and discovering how to get along with people who didn't always agree with us.

No apps, programs or worksheets required. Just being human together.

Of course, not every childhood or neighbourhood was safe or idyllic. But I wonder how much of that ordinary opportunity for play and connection has gradually disappeared from daily life.

When Feeling Okay Lived in Daily Life

Some of the things that help us feel settled are remarkably ordinary. Walking, spending time outdoors, working with our hands, sharing meals and being around people we trust can all contribute to how we feel.

We also learn a great deal through our relationships. Children observe how adults handle frustration, disagreement, affection and repair. Friends learn each other's rhythms. Families develop their own ways of offering comfort, sometimes without needing to say very much.

These experiences aren't always harmonious, and they don't magically resolve every difficulty. But ordinary life gives us opportunities to practice being with ourselves and each other.

I think we've underestimated the importance of that.

From Living Systems to Digital Soothers

Somewhere along the way, more of our lives moved onto screens. We gained extraordinary ways to communicate, learn and stay connected across distance, but we also changed how we spend our time together.

Play increasingly competes with platforms, boredom with endless feeds, and neighbourhood connections with online networks.

When a child is restless, lonely or overwhelmed, handing them a device can be an understandable response. Parents are often juggling work, household responsibilities, safety concerns and a shortage of places where children can simply go and play.

That isn't a failure of parenting. It's worth looking at the wider conditions that make screens such an appealing solution.

Digital entertainment can be enjoyable, educational and genuinely comforting. It can even help people find communities they wouldn't otherwise have access to. But occupying our attention isn't always the same as meeting our need for company, movement or shared experience.

Sometimes what we're looking for isn't another thing to watch. It's someone to do something with.

The Ordinary Power of Safe Touch

Another part of connection that interests me is ordinary, welcome human touch.

A hug from someone you trust, a hand held during a difficult moment or sitting close enough to lean into a friend while you're laughing. These small interactions can carry an enormous amount of meaning.

Touch isn't comfortable or desirable for everyone, and nobody should be expected to accept it. Consent and individual preference are part of what makes an interaction feel safe in the first place.

But for those who enjoy it, affectionate touch can be a valuable part of feeling connected. Even when touch isn't involved, simply sharing physical space with someone we trust can offer something quite different from communicating through a screen.

There's something lovely about being able to sit with another person without having to explain, perform or accomplish anything.

Just enjoying their company.

Chosen Family Is How We Stay Human

I don't think family needs to be defined solely by genetics.

Some of our most meaningful relationships are the ones we've built ourselves, often over years of ordinary interaction, shared experiences, disagreements, forgiveness and showing up for each other.

Friends who know your rhythms. People who notice when you've gone quiet. Someone who can sit beside you when life is difficult without immediately trying to fix everything.

These relationships take time and effort, but they also give us somewhere to share the weight of living.

We can lend each other courage, offer perspective and remind one another that we don't have to figure everything out alone.

That matters at every age.

When “Too Much” Is Really “Too Alone”

I wonder how often we interpret the effects of isolation and overwhelming demands as personal shortcomings.

Someone feels anxious, exhausted or unable to keep up, so the search begins for what's wrong with them. Perhaps they need a better routine, another technique or a program to improve their resilience.

Sometimes additional support or treatment is exactly what's needed. But sometimes the person's circumstances deserve just as much attention as their individual responses.

Are they getting enough rest? Do they have meaningful relationships? Is there anyone to share responsibilities with? Do they have opportunities to play, move, laugh and enjoy themselves without another demand attached?

It's difficult to feel supported when there is very little support available.

We can learn all sorts of useful ways to manage stress, but those skills shouldn't become an excuse to ignore the conditions people are living in.

We Didn't Outgrow This

We haven't outgrown our need for closeness, belonging and shared experience. Yet many of the things that once happened through ordinary daily interaction now have commercial alternatives.

There are breathing guides, connection courses, confidence programs and apps designed to help us feel calmer or less alone. Some are genuinely useful, particularly for people who don't have easy access to the relationships or resources they need.

But they aren't interchangeable with every aspect of living alongside other people.

I don't think the answer is to abandon technology or romanticize the past. There's plenty about earlier generations that I have no desire to bring back.

What interests me is how we create more opportunities for actual human contact in the lives we're living now.

More time together without an agenda. More places where people can gather. More opportunities for children to play with other children, for neighbours to know each other and for friends to show up without needing a special occasion.

And perhaps a little more permission to enjoy ourselves without turning everything into personal development.

Remembering How Life Holds Us

“Go outside and play” may have been an ordinary instruction, but there's something worth revisiting in it.

Move your body. Explore the world around you. Make things up. Spend time with people. Get a little dirty, have a laugh and occasionally do absolutely nothing productive.

We can still do those things as adults, too.

Not every difficulty needs another framework, and not every valuable experience needs to be measured or improved. Sometimes what we're missing is the chance to enjoy being alive with other people.

In kitchens, backyards, parks and living rooms. Through friendships, chosen families and the communities we help create.