Sometimes life feels too serious. Serious even if I can't pinpoint a single reason for it.

       We get caught up in chores. We get caught up in the chase of portraying the picture image of responsibility. We bring our worklife home. We place too much pressure on certain goals, ourselves and relationships.

      We wake up and immediately start planning our day. Make the bed. Cook. Send that email. Workout. Go to the post office. Root through the bills. Do the dishes. Do a load of laundry. Cook again...

      Life can sometimes feel like it becomes robotic. Like we're just moving through the motions and trying to survive.

      We lose our sense of play.

      We ignore the child within.

      This morning, as I laid on my yoga math after a workout trying to catch my breath, I spent a few moments looking up at the ceiling and had a flashback to my childhood.

      Staring at my house upside down, I remembered one of the games my brother and I used to play. We called it, "la maison qui tourne" which is French for the house that spins.

      It was very simple. Side by side, we'd stick our arms out and spin. And spin some more. We kept spinning until the dizziness made us unsteady, and then we laid on the carpet floor. We laid on our backs and stared at the ceiling above us, as our house appeared to spin out of control.

      Something so simple, yet it kept us busy for hours. It was the type of game that came when you had only creativity to work with, and no screen clutched between your sticky little fingers.

      It made us giggle for hours. Somedays we even thought that we could feel the earth beneath us shifting slowly.

        I miss that child who could spend hours, twirling and laughing at the ceiling, and feeling no pressure to do more. The only thought in mind: having fun. No thoughts of wasted time.

       So, I decided to delve into the nostalgia, and play the game once more. In my pyjamas, dishes still piled high, groceries pending, I twirled around my living room, and laid on my wooden floor.

       I certainly didn't recover as quick as my younger self did. I couldn't imagine spinning like that for hours, at this age, without bringing my breakfast up, but it changed my mood instantly.

      The anxiety, impatience, and sense of urgency that I woke up with vanished. I was able to relax again, and I'm still smiling hours afterwards.

      What are you doing for yourself?

      What are you doing for the child in you screaming to be set free?

       Take a breath. There's no need to rush through life. You are wherever you need to be. So slow down and then get ready to speed up again. Gain momentum as you twirl on your feet, and drop on the floor to watch the spinning roof above your head.

       You'll be amazed by the power that laughing at yourself holds.

      Let yourself feel the freedom of being silly.

      Let the child in you shine free.