Finding the Play (in Playing Games)

For most of my life, I have loved playing games (board games, card games, etc.) but I a while ago took a bit of a game playing hiatus when I realized I wasn’t playing the way I loved to play.

I love playing games when everyone has fun and the deeper intention behind the game playing is spending time and connecting with the people playing.

Yes, I like to win – it is exciting, but having fun throughout the game is much more important to me. The collective level of enjoyment is key.

Over the last five or so years, I’ve been playing games with more competitive game players, and about two years ago, I began to realize that I wasn’t having as much fun – hence, the hiatus.

One factor behind my lack of fun was a game frequently played amongst my friends called The Settlers of Catan. In this game, I felt like one person was always left having a crappy time because the dynamics of the game left one player with very little opportunities to make moves. And, whether this person was me or not, I felt the collective level of enjoyment was seriously impacted.

A second factor was feeling like the “play” aspect of playing games was lost when people would get mad at other people for moves they made and when players would take 10-15 minutes (or more) to agonize over strategy before making their move.

And, a third factor was taking on the focus of winning myself and feeling my self-esteem take a hit every time I lost. Was I not smart enough to win? Did I not have the intelligent to play strategically? Am I dumber than everyone else?

I have recently been getting back into playing games, and late last fall, I had an epiphany around my game playing.

I was playing Puerto Rico, and in one turn, I had two possible moves – both were of the same benefit to me, but one of the moves made it so the player after me wouldn’t be able to move. I was leaning towards the move that allowed the other player to move because not being able to make a move sucks!

But, just before I moved, there was some rustling amongst the other players – trying to draw my attention to the opportunity to block the player after me. I realized that they thought I didn’t see it – and they were right. I didn’t see the opportunity to block a player; I saw the opportunity to let another player play.

In that that moment, I clearly saw how my game playing is different. There isn’t a lack of awareness or intelligence; I simply move from a different place and look at things in a different light.

Gaining this understanding led me to a place where I feel more connected to my motivations and intentions, and I am more confident and joyful playing board games because I am consciously playing in a way that honours what I value and believe in.

Who are you dragonifying?

The Dreamworks’ film How to Train Your Dragon has been the inspiration for my yoga classes this week. Without giving away too much about the movie, I will tell you that it is about a village of Vikings whose lives revolve largely around fighting dragons, and that in the movie the Vikings come to realize that the dragons are only fighting because the Vikings are fighting – and vice versa.

I found this (unnecessary) battle between the Vikings and the dragons to be a powerful reminder about how dangerous it can be to blindly operate on assumptions.

Of course, assumptions serve us well in many ways. I assume that Warm Goat Cheese, Beet and Argula Sandwiches are going to be delicious (because they have been every other time I’ve eaten them), so I gladly eat them again. I assume that the car at the red light will stop, so I drive through the green. I assume that the orange stove element will burn my finger if I touch it, so I don’t.

Assumptions bring so much ease into our lives that it is easy to see why we have come to rely on them and how we sometimes lose touch with the places where they lead us to suffer. One of the areas I have been focusing on in my classes is holding assumptions about the actions of others.

The conflict between the Vikings and the dragons illustrates how relying on assumptions about the actions of others can bring more suffering, turmoil and stress into our lives. You might be thinking that a long-standing war with fire breathing dragons is an extreme example. You are not actually fighting a war – or are you?

In her book Practicing Peace in Times of War, Pema Chödrön, a Buddhist teacher, writes:

War begins when we harden our hearts, and we harden them easily – in minor ways and then in quite serious, major ways, such as hatred and prejudice – whenever we feel uncomfortable. … We can talk about ending war and we can march for ending war, we can do everything in our power, but war is never going to end as long as our hearts are hardened against each other. (16-17)

Do you make assumptions about the actions of others that stir up a hardening in your heart? Do you make assumptions that lead you to feel like you need to defend or protect yourself from another person?

Are you fighting dragons that don’t need to be fought?

I know I am.

And, one way I’ve been working on moving through my initial assumptions is by challenging myself to come up with at least three different explanations for actions of others that I experience as harmful.

Honouring that I may never truly understand the intentions of another, I believe that this practice cultivates an openness to the likelihood that the actions of others revolve much less around me than I experience them to – or that, in some situations, the dragons are simply protecting themselves from me.

A Seeker seeks Non-Seeking

One of the fabulous things about teaching yoga with YYoga is the opportunity to attend the weekly teacher development sessions they hold. The topics covered in these sessions are very diverse (from anatomy to philosophy to the Feldenkrais Method), and the trainings also provide the opportunity to connect with and learn from other teachers in the community.

I recently attended a session led by Lisa Gibson called Big Mind Meditation.  While even my own understanding of the Big Mind approach is likely still limited, I offer an introductory sentence from their website:

The Big Mind Process, created by Zen Master Genpo Merzel, is a combination of Eastern non-dual wisdom and Western psychological understanding to transmit the essence of Zen in a way that is readily accessible and relevant to the modern day.

The Big Mind process that Lisa led us through involved engaging with different voices, or different aspects of our consciousness. She first asked us to put our named sense of our self aside (so imagine “Sarah” on the other side of the room), and asked to speak to “The Controller.” She then led us to develop our own sense of the voice of “The Controller,” as she asked about what we did, what our role was, how we helped our named self (in my case, Sarah) and how we hindered her.

Lisa then asked “The Controller” permission to speak with different voices. All Controllers in the room said yes, so she moved on to speak with The Skeptic, The Innocent Child, The Damaged Self, The Protector, Fear and a number of other voices.

(If I am losing you completely, this Wikipedia article outlines the technique with more depth: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Mind )

One of the voices I was able to speak from with ease was The Seeker. I am very connected to my seeking self – to put it mildly. But, when Lisa shifted us from the voice of The Seeker to the voice of The Non-Seeker, I was stumped.

She asked the group of Non-Seekers questions about being a non-seeker, and I couldn’t answer because I couldn’t relate to not seeking. While I’m not always seeking things that are commonly lauded as things to seek, I’m always seeking. When I sit in meditation, I am seeking peace, insight and ease. When I sit on the couch and watch my favourite TV show (How I Met Your Mother), I am seeking laughter and light-heartedness.

I wasn’t the only person in the room who felt the lack of a non-seeking voice. A couple people commented on their struggle with the concept, and finally I said, “I don’t think I have a non-seeking voice.”

Lisa directed her attention to me and repeated, “I am speaking to the Non-Seeking self,” a few times.

And, then it hit me.

Only for a moment – maybe two, I was completely present.

I experienced a level of presence that I have never experienced before, and I realized that the non-seeking voice is only accessible when I am completely present. As soon as I start to reflect on the non-seeking voice, I am no longer in it because I am looking to the past.

My mind was metaphorically blown.

I usually have a sense of what my blog posts offer to people, but with this one, I’m not certain what – if anything – I am offering. I am still processing this mind-blowing, “Aha” moment of sorts, but my gut tells me there is something important here.

Maybe I’ll write about that next week…