It was a hot summer evening and we were playing Sorry. As these games go, we competed with (friendly?) rigour, ruthlessly knocking one another off the board at every opportunity, the heat and a burgeoning thunderstorm heightening our competitiveness.
Lightening flashed, a purple sky rumbled open and in a few minutes it all passed, leaving in its wake a moderate rain.
Lucas, 14 at the time, jumped up and ran out of the house. The rest of us gathered at the picture window. He dashed around in the rain. He danced on the soggy front lawn, hooted, did silly-walks, hopped like a rabbit and turned cartwheels.
We leaned over the couch, faces against the glass. Our small kids squealed with delight while the rest of us stood behind and laughed.
Luke was at play in a game with no rules. Making everything up as he went. He was running the game — and I loved him for it.
Here were two games with vastly different rules and outcomes and ways of participating. The one, a tit-for-tat game we all know how to play, the one that plays us; the other, a game that has at its heart an offer to join, a welcome to create, to discover — the antithesis of rivalry.
It’s this new game the Spirit of the universe is inviting us to play. Where getting our share by any means has no currency; where defining ourselves over and against others has no coinage; where play itself is the benevolent partner, the benign contender.
This age of in-or-out and tooth-for-tooth is hard on those who are gentle at their core. To survive they have to put on armour that never fits, never really protects, almost always harms.
~
Today I’m thinking about my son Lucas — it’s his 40th birthday. I’m also thinking about my tender-hearted mom, who would have been 98 today. And I’m remembering that today is the first day of Lent: that curious season when some people give something up in order to better remember a person who, at his peril, played a nonviolent game that ended up exposing our mechanisms of scapegoating, our systems of reprisal, our ghettos of association by class, colour, religion, orientation and privilege.
Blessings and Peace.
…a season for willful discovery ‘outside the lines’ of habit and routine.
Well said, thanks Ike.
I wish Lucas and my granddaughter Megan a very Happy Birthday , and many more to come . Lets all grab our hats and run for shear joy on those lush, green soggy lawns of life … best wishes from Phil
Lovely! Thanks Phil!
Very timely for me as I’ve been brought up short recently at the damage done by competitiveness: the underlying fears that drive it, and the unsavoury consequences of a “must win” or “me first” addiction.
Thank you for that Joyce.
“to better remember a person who, at his peril, played a nonviolent game that ended up exposing our mechanisms of scapegoating, our systems of reprisal, our ghettos of association by class, colour, religion, orientation and privilege.” Thanks for this, Steve. Lucas, Mom, and this One in a class together…
Thank you Sam.
Love this idea of being invited into play! Thank you for sharing challenging and life giving words.
Thanks so much Sue!