It's got to be serious if the New York Times

puts a cover story of their February 17th Sunday magazine about play.

At the bottom of this, it says, "It's deeper than gender.

Seriously, but dangerously fun.

And a sandbox for new ideas about evolution."

Not bad, except if you look at that cover, what's missing?

You see any adults?

Well, lets go back to the 15th century.

This is a courtyard in Europe,

and a mixture of 124 different kinds of play.

All ages, solo play, body play, games, taunting.

And there it is. And I think this is a typical picture

of what it was like in a courtyard then.

I think we may have lost something in our culture.

So I'm gonna take you through

what I think is a remarkable sequence.

North of Churchill, Manitoba, in October and November,

there's no ice on Hudson Bay.

And this polar bear that you see, this 1200-pound male,

he's wild and fairly hungry.

And Norbert Rosing, a German photographer,

is there on scene, making a series of photos of these huskies, who are tethered.

And from out of stage left comes this wild, male polar bear,

with a predatory gaze.

Any of you who've been to Africa or had a junkyard dog come after you,

there is a fixed kind of predatory gaze

that you know you're in trouble.

But on the other side of that predatory gaze

is a female husky in a play bow, wagging her tail.

And something very unusual happens.

That fixed behavior -- which is rigid and stereotyped

and ends up with a meal -- changes.

And this polar bear

stands over the husky,

no claws extended, no fangs taking a look.

And they begin an incredible ballet.

A play ballet.

This is in nature: it overrides a carnivorous nature

and what otherwise would have been a short fight to the death.

And if you'll begin to look closely at the husky that's bearing her throat to the polar bear,

and look a little more closely, they're in an altered state.

They're in a state of play.

And it's that state

that allows these two creatures to explore the possible.

They are beginning to do something that neither would have done

without the play signals.

And it is a marvelous example

of how a differential in power

can be overridden by a process of nature that's within all of us.

Now how did I get involved in this?

John mentioned that I've done some work with murderers, and I have.

The Texas Tower murderer opened my eyes,

in retrospect, when we studied his tragic mass murder,

to the importance of play,

in that that individual, by deep study,

was found to have severe play deprivation.

Charles Whitman was his name.

And our committee, which consisted of a lot of hard scientists,

did feel at the end of that study

that the absence of play and a progressive suppression of developmentally normal play

led him to be more vulnerable to the tragedy that he perpetrated.

And that finding has stood the test of time --

unfortunately even into more recent times, at Virginia Tech.

And other studies of populations at risk

sensitized me to the importance of play,

but I didn't really understand what it was.

And it was many years in taking play histories of individuals

before I really began to recognize that I didn't really have a full understanding of it.

And I don't think any of us has a full understanding of it, by any means.

But there are ways of looking at it

that I think can give you -- give us all a taxonomy, a way of thinking about it.

And this image is, for humans, the beginning point of play.

When that mother and infant lock eyes,

and the infant's old enough to have a social smile,

what happens -- spontaneously -- is the eruption of joy on the part of the mother.

And she begins to babble and coo and smile, and so does the baby.

If we've got them wired up with an electroencephalogram,

the right brain of each of them becomes attuned,

so that the joyful emergence of this earliest of play scenes

and the physiology of that is something we're beginning to get a handle on.

And I'd like you to think that every bit of more complex play

builds on this base for us humans.

And so now I'm going to take you through sort of a way of looking at play,

but it's never just singularly one thing.

We're going to look at body play,

which is a spontaneous desire to get ourselves out of gravity.

This is a mountain goat.

If you're having a bad day, try this:

jump up and down, wiggle around -- you're going to feel better.

And you may feel like this character,

who is also just doing it for its own sake.

It doesn't have a particular purpose, and that's what's great about play.

If its purpose is more important

than the act of doing it, it's probably not play.

And there's a whole other type of play, which is object play.

And this Japanese macaque has made a snowball,

and he or she's going to roll down a hill.

And -- they don't throw it at each other, but this is a fundamental part of being playful.

The human hand, in manipulation of objects,

is the hand in search of a brain;

the brain is in search of a hand;

and play is the medium by which those two are linked in the best way.

JPL we heard this morning -- JPL is an incredible place.

They have located two consultants,

Frank Wilson and Nate Johnson,

who are -- Frank Wilson is a neurologist, Nate Johnson is a mechanic.

He taught mechanics in a high school in Long Beach,

and found that his students were no longer able to solve problems.

And he tried to figure out why. And he came to the conclusion, quite on his own,

that the students who could no longer solve problems, such as fixing cars,

hadn't worked with their hands.

Frank Wilson had written a book called "The Hand."

They got together -- JPL hired them.

Now JPL, NASA and Boeing,

before they will hire a research and development problem solver --

even if they're summa cum laude from Harvard or Cal Tech --

if they haven't fixed cars, haven't done stuff with their hands early in life,

played with their hands, they can't problem-solve as well.

So play is practical, and it's very important.

Now one of the things about play is that it is born by curiosity and exploration. (Laughter)

But it has to be safe exploration.

This happens to be OK -- he's an anatomically interested little boy

and that's his mom. Other situations wouldn't be quite so good.

But curiosity, exploration, are part of the play scene.

If you want to belong, you need social play.

And social play is part of what we're about here today,

and is a byproduct of the play scene.

Rough and tumble play.

These lionesses, seen from a distance, looked like they were fighting.

But if you look closely, they're kind of like the polar bear and husky:

no claws, flat fur, soft eyes,

open mouth with no fangs, balletic movements,

curvilinear movements -- all specific to play.

And rough-and-tumble play is a great learning medium for all of us.

Preschool kids, for example, should be allowed to dive, hit, whistle,

scream, be chaotic, and develop through that a lot of emotional regulation

and a lot of the other social byproducts -- cognitive, emotional and physical --

that come as a part of rough and tumble play.

Spectator play, ritual play -- we're involved in some of that.

Those of you who are from Boston know that this was the moment -- rare --

where the Red Sox won the World Series.

But take a look at the face and the body language of everybody

in this fuzzy picture, and you can get a sense that they're all at play.

Imaginative play.

I love this picture because my daughter, who's now almost 40, is in this picture,

but it reminds me of her storytelling and her imagination,

her ability to spin yarns at this age -- preschool.

A really important part of being a player

is imaginative solo play.

And I love this one, because it's also what we're about.

We all have an internal narrative that's our own inner story.

The unit of intelligibility of most of our brains is the story.

I'm telling you a story today about play.

Well, this bushman, I think, is talking about the fish that got away that was that long,

but it's a fundamental part of the play scene.

So what does play do for the brain?

Well, a lot.

We don't know a whole lot about what it does for the human brain,

because funding has not been exactly heavy for research on play.

I walked into the Carnegie asking for a grant.

They'd given me a large grant when I was an academician

for the study of felony drunken drivers, and I thought I had a pretty good track record,

and by the time I had spent half an hour talking about play,

it was obvious that they were not -- did not feel that play was serious.

I think that -- that's a few years back -- I think that wave is past,

and the play wave is cresting,

because there is some good science.

Nothing lights up the brain like play.

Three-dimensional play fires up the cerebellum,

puts a lot of impulses into the frontal lobe --

the executive portion -- helps contextual memory be developed,

and -- and, and, and.

So it's -- for me, its been an extremely nourishing scholarly adventure

to look at the neuroscience that's associated with play, and to bring together people

who in their individual disciplines hadn't really thought of it that way.

And that's part of what the National Institute for Play is all about.

And this is one of the ways you can study play --

is to get a 256-lead electroencephalogram.

I'm sorry I don't have a playful-looking subject, but it allows mobility,

which has limited the actual study of play.

And we've got a mother-infant play scenario

that we're hoping to complete underway at the moment.

The reason I put this here is also to queue up

my thoughts about objectifying what play does.

The animal world has objectified it.

In the animal world, if you take rats,

who are hardwired to play at a certain period of their juvenile years

and you suppress play -- they squeak, they wrestle,

they pin each other, that's part of their play.

If you stop that behavior on one group that you're experimenting with,

and you allow it in another group that you're experimenting with,

and then you present those rats

with a cat odor-saturated collar,

they're hardwired to flee and hide.

Pretty smart -- they don't want to get killed by a cat.

So what happens?

They both hide out.

The non-players never come out --

they die.

The players slowly explore the environment,

and begin again to test things out.

That says to me, at least in rats --

and I think they have the same neurotransmitters that we do

and a similar cortical architecture --

that play may be pretty important for our survival.

And, and, and -- there are a lot more animal studies that I could talk about.

Now, this is a consequence of play deprivation. (Laughter)

This took a long time --

I had to get Homer down and put him through the fMRI and the SPECT

and multiple EEGs, but as a couch potato, his brain has shrunk.

And we do know that in domestic animals

and others, when they're play deprived,

they don't -- and rats also -- they don't develop a brain that is normal.

Now, the program says that the opposite of play is not work,

it's depression.

And I think if you think about life without play --

no humor, no flirtation, no movies,

no games, no fantasy and, and, and.

Try and imagine a culture or a life, adult or otherwise

without play.

And the thing that's so unique about our species

is that we're really designed to play through our whole lifetime.

And we all have capacity to play signal.