The Detour is the Destination: Notes on Sensitivity and Spontaneity
There’s a voice in many of us—practical, measured, maybe even stern—that whispers (or shouts): You should be getting home. There’s no time to play, take unnecessary detours, or go on frivolous adventures.
It’s the voice of “better judgment,” the one that keeps us efficient, predictable, safe.
But sometimes, softer yet more insistent, another voice rises: What if we just… followed that curiosity?
- A stray thought: Stop and watch the light hit the puddle.
- A sudden urge: Take a different way home.
- A quiet nudge: Let your body move.
This is the doorway, not to irresponsibility, but to aliveness.
When Does the Detour Begin?
Detours don’t announce themselves with fanfare. They’re quiet and easy to miss:
- The five-minute pause to watch birds outside your window instead of rushing to the next task.
- The doodle in the margin of your notebook that wants to become something more.
- The conversation with a stranger that “should” feel like a distraction but instead leaves you feeling lighter.
As philosopher Edward Slingerland observes, “We overstructure our lives and plan too much… Most people don’t have any gaps in their day to play.”
For highly sensitive people (HSPs), this overstructuring can feel especially suffocating. Our nervous systems thrive on depth, meaning, and moments of unstructured presence—yet we’re often the first to dismiss our own impulses as “too much,” “too childish,” or “too impractical.”
The Myth of “Enough” Preparation
It’s tempting to believe we’d be more playful if only—
- If only I had the right supplies.
- If only I were less tired.
- If only I knew nobody was watching.
But play isn’t in the toy. It’s in us.
A child doesn’t need a pristine playground to invent a game; they need permission—from themselves—to engage with what’s already there. A stick becomes a sword. A blanket becomes a fortress. A detour becomes the main road.
Gentle Courage
For HSPs, play isn’t always loud or exuberant. It might look like:
- Letting yourself daydream without labelling it “unproductive.”
- Wearing the outfit that feels like you, even if it’s “extra.”
- Saying no to a plan that drains you, even if it’s expected.
These are acts of defiance in a world that prizes relentless forward motion. They require courage because they’re vulnerable: What if I look foolish? What if I fall behind? What if I disappoint someone?
An Invitation (Not a Demand)
This isn’t about adding “play” to your to-do list. It’s about noticing the invitations already around you:
- Where does your attention linger when nobody’s judging?
- What makes time feel fluid instead of fragmented?
- When do you forget to second-guess yourself?
Start small. The detour isn’t always a grand gesture. Sometimes, it’s a breath. A pause. A silent yes to the thing that feels like coming home.
