Lila, Iterations of Divine Play

There’s a concept from Hindu philosophy that I keep returning to: Lila, or divine play. It’s the idea that the universe wasn’t created by some all-knowing master planner, but instead came into being as a spontaneous expression of joy — like the play of a child.

Alan Watts explained it like this:

“Hindus, when they speak of the creation of the universe, do not call it the work of God; they call it the play of God, the Vishnu Lila, Lila meaning play… They look upon the whole manifestation of all the universes as a play, as a sport, as a kind of ever-evolving dance.”

People sometimes ask why I return to the same ideas and imagery. It’s not because I’ve run out of ideas. Some ideas are so rich, so layered, they deserve to be revisited. The process of repeating a concept, is one of further exploring. It’s how I challenge myself to grow, to deepen my mastery, to outdo my last attempt. I've found, it also itself becomes an act of play, as if you've noticed, I don't redo the concept exactly. Instead I change up things about it, playfully asking "What if I tried this instead?" Robin Sharma said, “Don’t fear repetition. Repetition is the secret to mastery.”

When you do something you enjoy, over and over again in a playful way that ritualizes the process you become better faster. And there’s science that backs this up. Research shows that play actually helps the brain form new neural connections faster. Where it might take hundreds of repetitions to build a new synapse through rote learning, creative acts of play can do the same with far fewer. Play sparks curiosity, problem-solving, emotional balance. It helps us integrate what we’ve lived. It gives us agency. It puts us into that flow state where we stop trying so hard to control everything — and just are. 

Why is that so important well. For much of my adult life, I’ve lived with anxiety, PTSD, chronic pain, and fibromyalgia. I dealt with health issues that most doctors seemed unable to explain. More than once, I was told it was all psychosomatic — the body keeps the score, and chronic stress did real damage to me. In 2017 alone, I had multiple surgeries that year, thanks to IBD. My body had found a new and inventive way to surprise me and a few doctors- needless to say it was not fun and I wouldn't wish on anyone. During those times, I often couldn’t get out of bed. Art became my lifeline. Without it, I think I would have lost my sense of sanity, purpose, and possibly my sense of self.

Creating art, what started as a silly little escape and distraction, became an essential part of my healing and is still essential, because when I paint or draw, I eventually find that playful space where flow takes over.  My pain isn’t constant anymore. My PTSD is mostly manageable. Art — along with therapy and movement — have been how I process trauma, how I heal, how I keep evolving.

This painting  is a meditation on creation as play. On the act of bringing imagination into form. It’s also a conversation with my younger self, the one who spent hours drawing, lost in her own world, dreaming about space. I’m telling her: It’s okay. Play. Explore. Be Curious. Don't listen to voices of doubt. Just BE. 

May we all remember that we are the child — that we breathe life into the world through our actions. That, like the planets, we spiral back to familiar places and situations. And that in those moments, we get to choose: what patterns in our life do we honor and keep, and which ones do we change? Because those choices can shift our entire path — and even alter the world around us.