I was reminded this week that life is a game. And as with any game, what’s important is how you approach it.
Games should be fun. Yes, there are hoops to jump through and rules you have no influence over. Dice rolls and missed turns. And you can either choose to enjoy yourself and see how it turns out, or lament your lack of control over the outcome.
Of course, the rules never feel fair when you think you’re losing. You stumble and it makes you afraid. You look around at the other players. So-and-so clearly has an unfair advantage…or maybe they’re cheating. They must be! How else did they get so far ahead of everyone else?
It’s easy to forget that life isn’t a triathlon, really, but a game of snakes and ladders. It’s as much about luck as it is about strategy, and if chance is what calls the shots, then how futile is it to get all bent out of shape when things don’t turn out as you hoped?
We were given the game of Trouble a few years ago and it initially caused serious altercations when we played it as a family. The game would devolve into tears or shouting. Winners would gloat, although the randomness of the play meant that victory always felt undeserved. It truly brought out the worst in everyone.
But we adjusted and recognized that we don’t have to play to win at any cost. What a great analogy for real life: you get set back, you have to wait patiently until the time is right to make the next move, you build rapport with the other players in the hope that they will be less likely to knock you out of play. You have allies and nemeses — you need to figure out who feels threatened by your chances of success and who wants to help you to win.
And ultimately, no matter what your chosen game is, it feels better when you’re playing for the fun of it. Victory is fleeting anyhow. Seeing how far you can get and pushing yourself to beat your personal best? That’s joy. Playing to beat everyone else? Well, that’s fear. That’s a whole lot of pressure and stress around something you really can’t control. And if you believe that the only thing that will make you happy is to beat everyone else…well, what kind of a life is that?
True, many of us buy into the idea — starting in childhood — that competition is how we rank ourselves and compute our self-worth. It’s rarely about how well I’m doing based on me, but on what everyone else is achieving: am I better, am I worse? Where do I stand among my peers? It took me until well into adulthood to really and truly feel that how fast I run, how well I write, how quickly I can grasp a complex mathematical concept has absolutely nothing to do with my value as a person. Being a good dancer, simply makes me that: a good dancer. And rather than looking around the class to see who I need to compete with, I will be much happier spending my time looking at myself and working to improve my steps, my timing, and having as much fun as I possibly can while doing it.
What that doesn’t mean is judging ourselves constantly as not achieving our potential. The part of us taunting that we’re not good enough can fuck right off. Even professional athletes take rest days. If we’re ceaselessly pushing ourselves to work harder, better, faster, stronger every day, then what happens to the time to contemplate, to mull over and reflect and really be present in our lives? We miss out on enjoying our growth and successes because we’re so focused on what comes next. Our achievements begin to feel like empty markers on an interminable road to some unattainable ideal. How exhausting.
Taking the time to be present, on the other hand, to truly experience this moment rather than constantly focusing on future outcomes — that’s what makes whole and happy people. And if we can play the game for the love and exhilaration and show ourselves what we’re capable of when we’re in flow, in the moment, having fun… well, that’s real success — no matter if we “win” or “lose” the imaginary race. Because, when it comes down to it, nobody is actually keeping score. And if you are, then that’s your loss.
I hope you have a beautiful week and remember not to take it all so seriously.