Society, in general, has taught for many generations that when

“Society, in general, has taught for many generations that when you reach a certain age, you have to learn to stop playing.” — Matthew Mercer

Thus spoke Matthew Mercer, a voice born from the realm of imagination, a creator who has given breath to countless heroes and worlds unseen. In this reflection, he unveils a quiet tragedy of the modern age — that play, the sacred fire of curiosity and creation, is treated as something to be outgrown. He reminds us that society, in its hunger for order and productivity, has forgotten the wisdom of the child, the wild joy of invention, and the spiritual nourishment of wonder. To play is not childish; it is divine — for from play springs creativity, connection, and the courage to dream.

From the earliest days, humanity has played. Before temples were raised or empires built, people gathered to dance, to tell stories, to mimic the gods through art and laughter. Play was the first prayer — the soul’s way of rejoicing in existence. Yet as civilization grew and the burdens of industry replaced the rhythms of nature, society began to equate seriousness with virtue. The child was told to become “practical,” the dreamer was told to “grow up,” and the playful spirit, once celebrated, was chained beneath the weight of expectation. Mercer’s lament is for this loss — for the quiet killing of imagination in the name of maturity.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci, the eternal child of the Renaissance. Even in his later years, he would play with inventions as others might play with toys — crafting wings of parchment, sketching impossible machines, peering through lenses as though the world were a game of endless puzzles. His genius was not born of solemn study alone, but of playfulness — the freedom to ask, “What if?” The same spirit that animates a child building castles in sand fueled his designs that would one day reshape human history. Leonardo never forgot that to play is to create.

And yet, as Mercer observes, we are taught from youth that play must end — that adulthood demands we abandon the imagination for the sake of respectability. The result is a generation that works without wonder, that plans but no longer dreams. The heart grows weary, not from labor alone, but from the exile of joy. A society that forgets how to play forgets how to hope; its art becomes hollow, its faith mechanical, its laughter forced. For play is not escape — it is renewal. It reminds us that we are not machines of production, but beings of infinite curiosity and light.

In the ancient world, even the wisest knew the sanctity of play. Socrates himself, that philosopher of eternal questioning, was often seen playing games with children, using their laughter as lessons in humility and truth. He understood that wisdom is born not from solemnity, but from wonder — the ability to approach life without presumption. Likewise, the Greek festivals were celebrations of divine play: theater, music, and competition were not distractions from life, but its essence. They wove joy into duty, imagination into ritual. To them, play was sacred — a reminder that life’s greatest truths are discovered not through control, but through exploration.

Matthew Mercer, as a storyteller and performer, stands within this same lineage of wisdom. His craft — whether through voice, story, or game — is built upon play. He and those like him have reignited an ancient truth: that through play, people rediscover community, empathy, and courage. When people gather to imagine, they return to the roots of creation itself. The walls of age, gender, and status dissolve; all stand equal in the realm of shared imagination. Play is not immaturity — it is immortality, the eternal flame of the soul refusing to be dimmed by time.

Practical counsel for the seeker:

• Guard your sense of play as you would guard your wisdom; both are sacred, and neither survives neglect.

• In your work, leave room for imagination; it keeps the spirit alive when duty grows heavy.

• Do not let the scorn of others silence your joy; those who mock play have forgotten the art of living.

• Spend time with children, artists, and dreamers — they will remind you of the freedom you once knew.

• And above all, remember: to play is not to escape reality, but to enrich it, to see the world anew each day.

For as Matthew Mercer teaches, the soul that stops playing has already begun to wither. Age is no enemy of joy; only fear is. The wise do not abandon play as they grow — they refine it, turn it into creation, laughter, and love. Let us then live as the ancients did — not as prisoners of duty, but as players in the grand game of existence, where imagination is the breath of life itself.