Back in the Box
I've always loved board games. Family gatherings always had their share of hotly contested strategies: hotels on Boardwalk, cunning Clue sleuthing, six-marble jumps in Chinese checkers. The best games happened when everyone played with utmost sincerity, crying out in anguish when sent to jail, or acting like an arrogant genius declaring that Professor Plum did it in the Billiard Room with the lead pipe. And yet, with all the enthusiasm and emotions on display, there was just enough spaciousness, just enough awareness, that we were just playing a game - to laugh at the end and to put all the pieces back in the box. This game-ending ritual of putting the lid on the box somehow put it all in perspective.
But with some games, the stakes appear to be higher, and this spaciousness of perspective can get lost. Recently I was watching the Boise State/Nevada football game. Boise State is a team from a less prestigious conference, does not have a great football legacy, and resides in a remote western state. And yet Boise State had a 35-game winning streak over three years and was ranked fourth in the entire country. A win would have given them a real shot at the National Championship, one of the most coveted prizes in American sports.
With 9 seconds left, the University of Nevada tied the game 31-31. After the ensuing kickoff, the Boise State quarterback completed a miraculous pass 70 yards, to the opponent's 10-yard line. Time-out with 2 seconds left, just enough time for an easy field goal, by a kicker who was the all-time scoring leader in the school's history. The entire nation assumed that Boise State had won again. And then, the inexplicable happened - the kicker missed. In disbelief, they go into overtime. Boise State gets the ball and ends up in almost the exact same spot for another field goal. And, again - the kicker missed!
Boise State's dream - its three year winning streak, its National Championship hopes, the pride and joy of the entire state of Idaho - was dashed on a kick that was as natural for this kid to make as you tossing a crumpled-up piece of paper into your office trash can from a few feet away.
Will the pieces go back in the box for this young man?
We all know there are significant life-altering events that can happen in any one of our lives, more crucial than a missed field goal. But the question is still the same. Can we play the game of life with utmost sincerity, and yet with the spaciousness that allows us to let go of the emotions and reactions, move powerfully and joyfully forward, and accept the outcome, no matter how difficult?
The tougher the game, the more discipline we need to put the pieces back in the box. Our strong emotions are helpful cues to remind us to breathe and center into the present moment. It helps to remind ourselves that we aren't the emotion, we simply have it, just like we have sunny weather one day and rainy the next.
Similarly, with the thoughts that accompany the emotion, we aren't those thoughts, we simply have them. But we can train our minds, just like we train our bodies at the gym, and the tough times are great opportunities to do this. Gandhi said, "I never let anyone walk through my mind with dirty feet." In an aware, centered, state we can notice the erroneous and temporary nature of these harmful thoughts, and then mindfully choose ones that are life-enhancing, not those which have the dirty feet of guilt and self-loathing. We can be fascinated by the stormy emotional "weather", rather than suppressing the emotions through negative behavior, medications, or avoidance.
Pain, loss, and sadness are emotions - they are part of life. But suffering, guilt and resistance/avoidance are behavioral choices. Like physical training, mental training takes time and practice, but over time, the payoff is big. Any prolonged shame or guilt the Boise State kicker might have is optional.
We can play all our "games" as opportunities for centered awareness. With each new game, we learn to play with utmost sincerity, developing an indestructible sense of wonder - like a child fascinated by all the colors of the board and the new pieces to be explored.
Tom Crum