There’s a lie many of us absorb early and carry quietly into adulthood:

That seriousness equals depth.
That productivity equals worth.

And when life becomes heavy, play must step aside until things feel “better.”

Grief dismantles that lie.

Grief doesn’t ask you to become more disciplined or more efficient. It asks you to become more present. More honest. More human. And in doing so, it reveals something unexpected: vitality is not sustained by effort alone. It is sustained by moments that soften the nervous system enough for the heart to stay open.

When life contracts, when loss rearranges the internal furniture of your world, you don’t survive by tightening further. You survive by letting small pockets of light in. Breath. Stillness. Tenderness. And sometimes, play.

Not the loud kind.
Not distraction dressed up as relief.

But the kind of play that keeps your spirit from calcifying while your heart is breaking.

Grief has its own intelligence. Its own rhythm. Its own timeline.

You don’t “move through” it by pushing forward. You make space for it. You sit with it. You learn how it moves through you. And slowly, you discover that grief and vitality are not opposites. They are intertwined.

Love and loss always are.

This is where play becomes essential, not frivolous.

Play interrupts the stress cycle in ways discipline cannot. It lowers cortisol. It releases endorphins. It gives the nervous system a signal that says: you are safe enough to breathe again. Creativity returns not because you forced insight, but because tension loosened its grip. The mind becomes more flexible. The heart becomes less defended.

Even the simplest forms of play do this. Music playing quietly in the background. A walk without an agenda. Sitting in nature and letting your attention wander instead of perform. A moment of laughter that arrives uninvited and leaves you slightly surprised it still knows how to find you.

There is a version of strength that looks like holding everything together. Many of us were trained in it. Praised for it. Rewarded for it.
And then there is another kind of strength, the kind grief teaches.

• The strength to fall apart.
• The strength to cry without explaining yourself.
• The strength to sit beside someone you love, hold their hand, and realize that love in its purest form doesn’t require words.

Play keeps something essential alive during moments like this. It protects your vitality from depletion. It keeps your inner world from collapsing into pure survival mode. It restores energy not by escape, but by reconnection. To joy. To relationship. To yourself.

This is why play strengthens bonds, too. Playfulness builds empathy. It softens edges. It reminds us that connection doesn’t only happen through seriousness or suffering, but through shared humanity. Through lightness that doesn’t erase pain, but coexists with it.

Winter teaches this if you let it.

• Darkness is not a mistake.
• Stillness is not failure.
• Pausing is not quitting.

There are seasons when the most aligned action is to stop performing strength and start practicing presence. To allow moments that recharge you instead of drain you. To remember that vitality is not the same thing as busyness, and rest is not the same thing as disengagement.

If you are in your own season of grief or transition, this is not a call to cheer up or look on the bright side. It is an invitation to stay human. To let yourself be held by small, gentle moments that keep your spirit alive while you learn how to let go.

Something new always emerges from these thresholds. Not immediately. Not on demand. But faithfully, when space is made.

And when the light returns, it will find you softer, clearer, more creative, and more alive than before.

Strategic Reflection Prompt

Where in your day could you allow a moment of gentleness or play not to escape what’s hard, but to preserve your vitality while you meet it?

About Giselle

I’m Giselle Hudson — writer, possibility thinker, musician, Organization & People Development Sensemaker™, and MCODE Legacy Coach. I help leaders and soul-driven professionals decode the deeper patterns shaping their business, work, identities, and results especially when it look like a performance issue but it’s really misalignment in disguise.

If something in your life or business feels off and you can’t quite name it, message me. Sometimes one conversation is all it takes to see what’s really going on.

About Giselle

I’m Giselle Hudson — writer, possibility thinker, musician, Organization & People Development Sensemaker™, and MCODE Legacy Coach. I help leaders and soul-driven professionals decode the deeper patterns shaping their business, work, identities, and results especially when it look like a performance issue but it’s really misalignment in disguise.

If something in your life or business feels off and you can’t quite name it, message me. Sometimes one conversation is all it takes to see what’s really going on.