Present and Playful: The Path to Feeling Fulfilled and Empowered

In this fast-paced, often chaotic world, I keep coming back to a simple reminder: be present… and don’t forget to play.

In my new role at work, I have the privilege of sitting in 1:1 conversations with more than 130 teammates. Each conversation is different. And each one offers at least one golden nugget.

Recently, one stayed with me. A colleague shared that her supervisor begins every meeting the same way: phones down, email closed, chat silenced. Just one hour of being fully present with each other. She said it felt like a relief. And then we laughed, asking the question so many of us quietly carry: Why don’t we give ourselves that same permission?

If you had asked me a few months ago whether this highly sensitive introvert would enjoy a calendar full of 1:1 meetings, I would have said, without hesitation, “Absolutely not.” Some days, I have 6 to 8 conversations scheduled. And yes, I’m the one who set them up.

But here’s what’s different.

I don’t show up with a checklist. I’m not there to perform or produce. My only job is to be present. To hold space. To stay curious. And in doing so, something beautiful happens.

These conversations become spaces where people can feel safe and seen. Where we talk not only about work, but about fulfillment, inside and outside of the job. I find myself gently reminding others, and myself, that we are allowed to choose differently. To choose presence. To choose play.

I think part of why I’m enjoying this work so much is because of how I feel in my own body.

Safe.
Seen.
Fulfilled.
Empowered.

Those words didn’t come easily. They came from doing the inside work. The personal development. The reflection. The therapy. All of it.

The result? My nervous system softened. It settled. And in that settling… I remembered her.

Little Lori.

The curious one. The adventurous one. The one who wandered and explored and played without apology.

There’s a long-running family joke that everyone at the campground knew my name because my mum was always calling it out or calling me back to the campsite: “Lorrrrrrrriiiii….”

I used to think I had lost her. But maybe I didn’t lose her at all. Maybe I just got lost. Lost in the striving. Lost in the pushing. Lost in the years of trying to keep up and hold it all together. The weight of stress and life’s challenges slowly pulled me into survival mode.

And now, at 54 years old, I find myself returning. Not to who I was… but to who I’ve always been. Maybe this is what it really means to be a human being. Not constantly doing. Not constantly proving. But being present enough to notice what matters. And playful enough to actually enjoy it.

So, I’m making space for my own version of recess. Quiet mornings on my porch, enjoying the stillness, watching the sun come up. Afternoons spent working on a puzzle. A coffee date with a girlfriend where the conversation meanders without an agenda. A day on the water, fishing, breathing, letting time slow down. Riding my bike, feeling the rhythm, the freedom, the simple joy of movement. Nothing extraordinary. And yet, everything essential.

Because play isn’t frivolous. It’s restorative.  It’s connective.  It’s where parts of us come back to the surface. And maybe that’s the real invitation.

To give ourselves permission to be fully here. To create moments where we feel safe and seen. To choose what brings us fulfillment. To trust that we are allowed to feel empowered in the smallest, simplest ways. One present moment. One playful choice at a time.

Play isn’t a break from life. It’s how we come back to it.

 

©2026 Lori Ann King