Reflection 18
TO CONTEMPLATE BEYOND THE GAMES
- What is the goal of philo-sophical practice?
- I cannot talk about THE goal. My reflections express only the personal voice of a particular person.
- Alright, so what is YOUR goal in philo-sophia?
- As I see it now: to go beyond the boundaries of games.
- Games? What do you mean?
Consider a chess game. We toss a coin – “I am white!”
Indeed, I AM white. The white plastic figures on the wooden board are not just mine – they are ME. When I am absorbed in the game, they are the focus of my hopes, of my thoughts, of my regrets and my joys. When your black queen takes my white bishop, I feel a very real pain. The actions of the white pieces are my actions. Through them I move, attack, take revenge, triumph, live. Because they are me. For the duration of the game, the 64 black and white squares are my world.
To play a game is to be transported from 'real life' into another reality – into a chess board, or a set of cards, or a basketball court. When I sit down to play, I am no longer the man who was born in Israel, who teaches philosophy, and who has a dentist appointment tomorrow. These facts make no difference to where my mind is now. They have almost no existence for me.
Nevertheless, in the back of my mind I am aware that it's only a game, and that I have a dentist's appointment tomorrow. In effect, I am split into two parts: One part of me lives the game, while another part of me is vaguely aware of the wider world. I live in two different realities at once: the game, and the 'real' world.
Playing games is such a common phenomenon, that we usually don’t realize how amazing it is. It is amazing that I can BE the white soldiers on the board and forget my normal concerns and identity. It is amazing that I can live two different lives. Different lives – because in each of them I have different intentions and preferences, different hopes, fears, and behaviors. It is as if there are, inside me, two sources motivation, of thought and emotion, of life.
Games are devices that enable me to live a second life, an alternative reality. In this respect, they are similar to movies and novels. In a movie I bite my fingernails when the hero is attacked, and sigh in relief when he is rescued. I identify myself with the protagonist, with his concerns, fears, hopes.
And yet, I usually don’t confuse the two realities. I never confuse a person on the movie screen with my neighbor sitting next to me.
How is a game different from the ‘real’ world?
A game has rules that limit the player’s behavior (e.g., the king can move only one square, or you cannot kick the ball). But in the ‘real’ world, too, our life is governed by rules: the law of gravity, psychological patterns, social norms.
A game has a goal (e.g., you should try to take the opponent’s king, or to insert the basketball in the basket). But in ‘real’ life, too, our actions are governed by our goals: having fun, success, fame, security, etc.
Games are therefore imitations of reality, and this is why they are so fascinating. But they are not reality. Because the rules and the goal of a game are imaginary. They are make-believe. In the game I behave AS IF it is important to put the basketball inside the hoop; AS IF the ball cannot be kicked but only touched by hand. These rules and goals don’t have a real power over me. I am bound by them only as long as I accept them, only as long as I identify with them as determining my reality.
The amazing power of games comes from our capacity to identify with imaginary rules and imaginary goals as if they were real. We identify ourselves with fictional situations and push ‘real’ reality outside our awareness.
There are board-games and ball-games and card-games, but there are also psychological and social games. I may play the game of ‘I am pretty’ or ‘I am wise’, or the game of ‘I am a philosopher’. These are games if I identify myself with them; if I pretend that they determine who I am. For example, I may let the idea of ‘I am pretty’ control my way of acting and speaking. Or, I may adopt a certain posture and speech according to ‘I am wise’. I impose on myself specific standards (rules, goals) and restrict myself to them. My reality is now narrower.
There are also intellectual games: I impose on myself specific standards of thinking and believing – ‘I am an existentialist’, ‘I believe in dualism’, ‘I have a refined taste’. I adjust my thoughts to specific patterns, ways of thinking, assumptions.
These are games if I identify my reality with them, if I let them restrict my way of thinking and being, if I imagine that they determine who I am.
To play games is, then, to confine myself to a narrow imaginary reality. This is not necessarily bad. Games can be fun. They can also help us achieve certain goals. Social games save society from chaos.
But if I fall into games without awareness, if I lose myself in them for long periods of time, then I don’t fully live my life. I then lose touch with much of human reality. I start living the virtual world that is constructed by lofty ideals and philosophies, by the demands of society, by my whims and fantasies.
We are amazingly ‘good’ at losing ourselves in fictional rules and goals. Israeli children quickly learn the rules of Israeli identity, and Arab children the rules of Arab identity. The American cheers to his baseball team, and the Italian cheers to his Italian soccer team. The poor farmer in Africa dreams about plentiful banana trees in his field, while the American philosopher dreams about becoming famous (famous among other intellectuals!).
We are amazingly good at adjusting our thoughts, our emotions, aspirations, and behavior to a narrow aspect of human reality.
But it seems that we are not totally imprisoned in our games. The chess-player has some vague awareness that he is playing, and that his reality is broader than the chess-board. A rich lady in a high-society party may act and feel according to the social norms, and yet something in the back of her mind may whisper to her that she is acting.
I am not totally imprisoned in my games. Even when I am forced to play by the rules of my society or of my psychology, I don’t have to completely identify with them and restrict my existence to them. Even when I find myself controlled by my habits or obsessions or fears, I can realize that my reality is greater than these games.
Modern psychology has developed ways to help people become aware of their psychological games (‘emotional patterns’, ‘defenses’, ‘repressions’, etc.) and go beyond them. But this task, as important as it might be, is still very limited. Because going beyond psychological games is not yet going beyond our more fundamental prison, the conceptual prison – the games of our understanding: the rules and goals which we follow in constructing the basic coordinates of our world. These are the games of our cognitive patterns, of our cultural biases, of the structures (or rules) which our particular autobiography imposes on reality.
Is it possible for us to become aware of those more fundamental games and to go beyond our normal conception of reality? Is there a way to transcend our usual ways of understanding which shape our world?
This would be a tremendous task. It is hard to think of a more ambitious aspiration. And yet, I believe that it is not altogether impossible. Of course, as a human being I cannot be free of all boundaries. I cannot get rid of all my cognitive and cultural patterns. But the point is that I don’t need to identify myself with them. I don’t have to limit my awareness to specific intellectual games. I can ‘listen’ to a broader awareness of the greater reality. I can contemplate beyond my boundaries.
If this is indeed possible, if I can be greater than my games and be in touch with a broader realm of human existence, then this seems an appropriate task for philo-sophia. Because, to use Plato imagery, it is the goal of the philo-sopher to step out of the narrow cave towards a wider world.
This, then, is my personal answer (at least at the moment) to the question at the beginning of this reflection. My goal in philo-sophia is not to look for answers or theories or explanations, and not to limit myself to the voice of reason or the voice of morality or beauty. My goal is, rather, to go beyond the boundaries of my normal understanding and to be a witness to a broader horizon of human reality – through my awareness, through my thoughts and writings, through my relationships, and throughout my daily life.
