Tag Archives: Alternative Perspectives

6 Signs You May Be an Infinite Player

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“What will undo any boundary is the awareness that it is our vision, and not what we are viewing, that is limited.” ~ James P. Carse In his book Finite and Infinite Games, James P. Carse demonstrates a way of looking at the world that is truly unique. He breaks human reality down to at least two different games: finite and infinite.

A finite game is played for the purpose of winning, even at the expense of play itself. An infinite game is played for the purpose of continuing play, for the sake of play itself. While there are endless finite games (chess, football, war, romance, politics, religion) there is only one infinite game: the game of life.

Finite players play to win, and are often superficially rewarded for their play. Infinite players play to continue playing, and are often cosmically rewarded for their play. “It is an invariable principle of all play, finite and infinite, that whoever plays, plays freely. Whoever must play, cannot play.”

Here are six signs you may be an infinite player.


planet_earth_with_sunrise_in_space_by_macinivnw-d68n2je1.) You have the ability to transform boundaries into horizons

“He who lives horizonally is never somewhere, but always in passage” ~ James P. Carse

You realize –balls to bones, ovaries to marrow– that boundaries are a “phenomenon of opposition,” while horizons are a “phenomenon of vision.” Where finite players play within boundaries, you play with boundaries. You play with boxes by actually thinking outside of them instead of just saying you’re going to do so. You play with comfort zones, stretching them in order to persistently challenge yourself, even if that means inadvertently stretching the comfort zones of finite players.

You play with mental paradigms, questioning them to the nth degree until cognitive dissonance is literally stinking up the joint. You are adept at playing multiple games, wearing multiple masks, and practicing multiple songs and dance, all of them finite games within the overall infinite game. You are able to do this because you realize that all the petty finite games are but trivial sideshows of the only game that really matters, the one true infinite game: the game of life.

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2.) You understand the absolute necessity for changing the rules of the game

“I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.” ~ Robert A. Heinlein

You are compelled to change the rules rather than keep them the same. You realize that the only fundamental constant in this universe is change. Indeed, change is the essence of the game of life. As such, you understand that in order for the infinite game to continue it must constantly be changing. The worst thing that can happen is for the rules to become rigid, stagnant, or dogmatic, since that would mean the end of all play, because play must be free, otherwise it is not play at all.

And so you adapt and overcome to the vicissitudes of life and to the many finite games that pop in and out of the unfolding human drama. You are adept at holding those games accountable that seek to become “the only game in town.” You poke holes in all sacred ideologies. You question all games where the finite players declare the rules of their game to be unquestionable.

You plant seeds of doubt in the minds of all finite players who falsely believe in certainty, while comforting those who are uncertain. You realize as Plato did: “For a state in which the law is respected, democracy is the worst form of government, but if the law is not respected, it is the best.”


adcbec11dc4c7b83b2157591583236833.) You play with jest as opposed to seriousness

“There is something in the nature of all play that is not serious, but at the same time can be sincere.” ~ Alan Watts

Where finite players play in all seriousness, the infinite player plays with sincere jest. Infinite play resounds with a kind of divine laughter. You have learned to laugh in this way. Your play is sacred and so too is your sense of humor. You have no problem playing the joker card on any and all self-serious card players. You are jester-perfect in your ability to laugh at the imperfections of the human condition.

Fallibility is the wave you use to surf over all the floundering finite players vainly seeking infallibility. You find all finite games to be trivial and petty and you handle them with sincere mockery, even if that means that, by mocking the game, the particular game comes to an end.

Mockery and tomfoolery are an important and vital function of the overall infinite game, especially when the accountability derived from such mockery extinguishes the potential for future evil. Indeed, the more finite games mocked and poked fun at, the more vital and sacred the overall infinite game becomes.

4.) You are internally defined as opposed to externally defined

global-interdependence“When individuals try to balance self-interest with a consideration of the bigger picture, they discover, as Socrates did, that deep self-interest actually includes
concern for the good of the whole.” ~ Louis G. Herman

You are an interdependent agent. Your codependency of the past, with any particular finite game, has been reconditioned into an independent ability to engage with the ever-changing infinite game of life. This independency is not externally defined, but internally defined.

Indeed, it has blossomed into full-on interdependence with the greater cosmos. With this interdependent understanding you see how all things are interconnected; especially how all finite games are connected, and even how finite players stubbornly try to disconnect each other in order to “win at any cost.” You realize that their finite zero-sum games are divisive systems that only keep them separated and segregated, thus destroying any potential for equality, creativity and diversity.

Like Theodore Roosevelt said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” You see how their finite games are preventing them from seeing the bigger picture of the infinite game. So it is that you are constantly trying to reconnect the disconnected (sometimes even despite them) to the awe-inspiring joy of infinite play.

5.) You play to generate time instead of consume it

infinite-time“Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.” ~ Rumi

Where finite players seek to consume time, you seek to generate time. This means you are devastatingly clear with your intent. Your attitude toward the infinite game of life is obvious so as not to waste any time. You don’t pull punches. Your every word is a full disclosure of truth. You say what you mean and mean what you say. You are impeccable with your word.

Your honesty is paramount, because you understand that only through your honesty can others be free to decide what they can (or cannot) do with their time regarding you. So it is that you are brutally honest with your disposition toward the human condition. You are clear with your commitment to the infinite game, even at the expense of all finite games. You understand that infinite play requires complete vulnerability.

So you initiate your own actions in such a way that others respond by initiating their own action in kind. Where finite players are waiting for their turn to speak, you have learned how to listen with conscious intent, which generates time as space for the dialogue to continue, and healthy dialogue is the heart of good play.

6.) You are concerned with vision rather than power

“Real confidence has no bluster or bombast. It’s not rooted in a desire to seem better than everyone else and it’s not driven by a fear of appearing weak. Real confidence settles in when you have a clear vision of exactly what you need to do. Real confidence blooms as you wield the skills and power you have built through your hard work and discipline.” –Rob Brezsny

8-infiniteA finite player plays for power, while an infinite player plays with power. In your roll as infinite player, you have discovered sheer unadulterated joy in playing with power and with people’s notions of power. Where finite players want people to see how powerful they are, you want people to see how powerful they are. While the finite player brags about winning and fawns over trophies, accolades, and titles, you are busy with your passionate hard work and unwavering discipline.

Your confidence is focused and clear on what you need to do in order to keep the infinite game vital, healthy and, most importantly, fun. So you embrace a healthy mockery of the power-that-be. You use power as a tool to leverage vision into action, rather than as a weapon to force people into action. Unlike finite players, you see how play, good humor, laughter, and especially all of these combined, are essentially more powerful than power itself. Indeed, they are ways of getting power over power.

Being concerned with vision rather than power leads to courage, which leads to liberation, which leads to the need to empower and liberate others, which leads to other visionary people, which leads to accountability, which leads to sustainability, which leads to a healthy community for all, and therefore a healthy infinite game for all.

Like Paul Tillich said, “It takes tremendous courage to resist the lure of appearances. The power of being which is manifest in such courage is so great that the gods tremble in fear of it.” Let them tremble! Our infinite play depends upon it, and the play must go on. Where the finite player aims for eternal life; the infinite player aims for eternal rebirth.

Image sources: Invisible man Earth horizon Break the rules like an artist Jester trickster Water drop Infinite clock Infinity symbol

The Cure for Aging

By

David Cain of Raptitude.com

Here’s a depressing reality that everyone eventually notices: time goes faster as you age. The days and years seem to get behind you with increasing speed, and it’s easy to understand why: to a one-year-old, a year is a lifetime, while to a 40-year-old it’s only one-fortieth of a lifetime.

This means we are, essentially, accelerating towards our graves — but there’s something we can do to make this a non-issue, and I’ll explain how.

I turned 34 last week, and when I think about that number, it seems to belong to an entirely different stage of life than 33 does. A 33 year-old is just a 31 year-old you haven’t checked in on for a bit, and a 31 year-old is just a 29 year-old plus a quick pair of summers, and 29 is what everyone wants to be anyway.

But 34 is the mark at which the rounding begins to go the other way. We know that 34 might as well be 35, and one president later you’re 39, which is the same as 40. And at that point, while you’re nowhere near old age, you’re probably on the leeward side of the mountain of time that is your life, and your days of being a young person are over.

All of this is just a pointless thinking exercise though. It doesn’t mean anything. Numbers make fools of us. That’s why retail prices still end in 99, statistics mislead us relatively easily, and the Monty Hall Problem still blows people’s minds.

When I put the numbers aside, and look at my actual experience of aging, life has gotten consistently better, not worse. I am calmer, happier, more confident, wiser. I get more enjoyment out of ordinary moments, I experience fewer crises and less fear. I have just as many problems more quickly. I find it easier to do hard things as I get older.

Yet it’s suggested repeatedly to us, that aging is something to be feared — that an older you is a worse you, and that any birthday beyond your 29th is a small tragedy.

I am also aware that I only turned 34 and not 64, and that I’ve barely begun to experience the effects of aging. But I have every reason to believe that all of the improving qualities listed above will continue to improve until I’m about dead.

There are tradeoffs of course. When I was five I could fall down and probably not hurt myself. I used to be able to drink Slurpees for lunch and not feel like crap afterward. My skin was clearer. And eventually I’ll probably experience joint pain and other goodies. But I believe that with age I will gain vastly more than I lose.

What do we really lose as we age? Why do we think it’s such a bad thing?

Well first of all, what we’re most afraid of isn’t aging, but the thing that happens when we’re done aging — and we often confuse the two. Death and aging aren’t really the same problem, and I don’t think it makes sense to worry that aging is bringing you closer to death. The fact that life ends has been a part of the deal from the beginning, and you knew that. And death, whenever it comes, will render all of the problems of aging irrelevant. 

Your body will tend to get weaker over the decades. We know that. But it’s important to note that your level of fitness and physical ability has a lot more to do with how you spend your years than how many of them you’ve spent in total. I’m a total novice in the world of fitness, but I’m already in much better shape than I was at 25, and still there are 65-year-olds who can run circles around me, or even bench-press me a few dozen times. While it’s true that our limits for physical prowess do decrease as we age, not many of us live in such a way that we’re bumping up against these limits.

We do experience more age discrimination, which is obnoxious but not exactly insurmountable. It’s also not really a function of aging; it’s a consequence of living in a culture that overvalues youth. In other words, getting younger isn’t what’s required to overcome age discrimination. As we know, many cultures (past and present) revere age.

We do get less physically beautiful, at least in terms of raw biological sex appeal. I will certainly have less hair and more lines in 20 years. But even as you gain wrinkles, you can simultaneously become a more articulate, likeable and admirable person, if admiration is important to you. While the most superficial aspect of your beauty may wilt, you can cultivate charisma and appeal indefinitely in every other area. Even outward beauty can be preserved or improved over the medium-term, with an investment in fitness and health, if that’s still something you value.

For women there is a unique aging issue: the loss of the capacity to give birth to healthy children occurs relatively early in life, so beginning a biological family is one of the few things that might be regarded with a bit of urgency (again, if that’s something that’s important to you.)

I’m willing to accept the gradual fading of my physical qualities, knowing that I’m steadily becoming more learned, more easygoing, more skilled and more wise. I have no reason to believe I will lose any of those qualities from age alone, until I’m pretty close to the end.

Of course, getting better year after year requires an intention to get better year after year. Self-improvement doesn’t happen by accident. A lot of what age apparently “takes” from us — health, possibility, optimism, confidence, personal power — is really just what we’ve given up on voluntarily. If you make a standing priority of improving in the areas that matter to you, then your birthdays will come to mark increases in capability and skill, rather than atrophy and loss.

But if you tell yourself the fitness ship has sailed, then it has. Same goes for the dream-career ship, the traveling-the-world ship, and the write-a-great-novel ship. You didn’t miss them, you just stopped thinking of them as your ship.

I think what many people particularly feel they lose is possibility. The range of what you can do with your life seems to shrink as you become more entrenched in your current obligations.

I don’t think this is due to age, but rather the cultural norm of letting your habits stagnate once you hit 30, and the subsequent slipping from improvement mode into maintenance mode. If you’re 5 or 10 years into a career, it’s harder to switch to something better because it usually means taking a pay cut. We take on family and work obligations that can easily consume all of our energy, if self-improvement is allowed to slip off the list of non-negotiable priorities.

If you’re living life in maintenance mode, then you are losing a step when you age. If you’re just getting older without a focus on getting better, then the same things become harder.

The passage of time isn’t a problem to someone who’s determined to improve every important aspect of their life over time. You still experience some tradeoffs, but it’s easier to say goodbye to your smooth skin and Olympic aspirations when you know you’re moving towards greater wealth, wisdom, skill, personal freedom and equanimity.

If you have long-term goals, age creates some pretty excellent consolation prizes. For example, if you’ve got a goal of getting into marathon-shape and doubling your income in the next three years, is it really that bad when you do find yourself three years older?

Disease and physical breakdown are inevitabilities, but they can be slowed with a long-standing commitment to health. When they do eventually set in, they can be managed gracefully with wisdom and presenceif developing those qualities has been a part of your lifestyle.

What the self-improver is really creating is ease — long-term ease. Taking five years to transition to a career that doesn’t drive you nuts might be harder in the short term, and much, much easier in the long term. Working out is harder than skipping a workout, but beyond the hour it takes to do either, the first option creates much more ease in life.

The lifelong self-improver is always setting up life so that it delivers increasing dividends in ease and joy. If it’s just a matter of course for you to spend every year of your life building skill, wealth, and wisdom, then birthdays come to feel like “leveling up” instead of losing out.

David Cain of Raptitude.com

Photo Credit to Joe Del Tofu

How to Be a Good Stranger

By David Cain of Raptitude.com

During a moment in the checkout line at Costco, it occurred to me that it wouldn’t be the worst time for the apocalypse to strike. There might have been two hundred souls in the building, and if we were suddenly thrust into a survival situation by nuclear attack or zombie outbreak, we would have hundreds of tons of food, along with plenty of pharmaceuticals, first aid supplies, and toilet paper on hand.

If a crisis forced you to spend weeks or months together with a fairly random selection of strangers, you’d soon find out which of these people are a positive, helpful presence, and which aren’t.

Like most people probably do, I like to think I’d be one of the more helpful and welcome members of this new post-apocalyptic family, but I’m not sure why I think that. It’s probably the “Lake Wobegon Effect” — our tendency to overestimate our value and capabilities in relation to others. It’s the same phenomenon that has 90% of us believing we’re better-than-average drivers. (Clearly about 40% of us are wrong on that count, but I’m still somehow nearly 100% sure I’m not one of them.)

As Sam Harris points out in Waking Up, one of the reasons we feel so comfortable watching movies and television is because they allow us to observe and judge the intimate happenings of other people’s lives, while at the same time being completely shielded from their scrutiny of ourselves.

In any case, I’m fascinated by how readily we make judgments about strangers, yet how little we actually know about their personality and character (until, perhaps, some unlikely crisis brings them to the surface.)

Over the years I’ve become more aware of my snap judgments, but they still happen all the time. I frequently catch myself damning certain strangers as altogether bad people, on the basis of one instance of their not using their turn signal, or having a conversation that blocks a doorway.

I’m trying to overcome the habit of trying to justify these casual, internal condemnations of strangers. Instead, I see if I can overcome my initial negative impression completely, whenever I notice I’m being judgey. My new response to that negativity is this: I decide to drop the low-level resentment, and instead become their secret ally, for the few minutes we are in each other’s presence.

I’ll explain what I mean. This practice started spontaneously on an ordinary day a few months ago:

I’m walking several blocks to a little grocery store down my street, stuck behind a slow-moving man who is walking directly down the center of the narrow sidewalk. There’s no room to go around without stepping into the street, or shimmying past him on the building side.

At first I have my normal reaction of disdain and character judgments. The usual self-righteous internal monologue starts up: Some people just never think about how they affect others! I would never be that unaware of my surroundings! And so on. The fundamental message of all of these thoughts is, “I’m better than you.”

It’s telling that I only become interested in the Ethics of Proper Sidewalk-Sharing in moments when I’m being personally inconvenienced. Even though the issue undoubtedly affects millions of people every day, it never seems to be an important topic to think about at any other time. Many or most of our internal moral complaints about others are really just petty reactions to being inconvenienced, and not any kind of meaningful examination of personal ethics or how to run a society. I’m learning to distrust these kinds of thoughts when I have them, but I still have them.

Anyway, on this occasion I’m lucky enough to feel a pang of guilt for judging this person. He’s a middle-aged man, dressed in a golf shirt and dad jeans, almost certainly unaware that he’s blocking all but the most aggressive and acrobatic attempts to pass him. Still, it’s not fair to deem him a less aware or less considerate person than I am, because even though I’m frustrated with what he’s doing right now, I really know almost nothing about him.

Although I tend to walk at Manhattan speeds wherever I am in the world, right now I’m not exactly in a rush. So instead of making a move to get past this man, I decide to just relax and walk a good ten meters behind him, at a pace of his choosing. And instead of my normal habit of presuming he’s an especially bad or inconsiderate person, I’ll presume he’s an especially good one, or at least good enough not to deserve bitter glares from a stranger. 

Casual disdain for the odd stranger, for those of us who are prone to it, is a long-conditioned reaction and it doesn’t take much to trigger it. But in spite of my conditioning, I’d rather err on the side of being too approving and too forgiving of strangers, than settle into lasting resentment at the slightest offense.

So to keep myself on the fairer side, I decide that for as long as I’m behind this man, not only will I refrain from judging him, but I will watch out for his well-being, and come to his aid if necessary.

Whatever happens, if I really think I can help, I will offer my help. If he looks like he’s searching for an address, I’ll ask him if he needs directions. If there does happen to be a meteor strike or an alien invasion during my short tenure as his guardian angel, I will help him get to safety, phone his loved ones or fend off roving bandits. Even if there’s no obvious way in which I can help, I’ll still harbor a secret hope that this walk and the rest of his day goes well for him.

Now, it’s not important whether any of these events are likely to happen. The point is to locate that feeling of being willing to help, of being someone who cares about this other person. These feelings are incompatible with that of being just another cold stranger.

By doing this I’m creating a total, deliberate inversion of my initial feeling towards him. In the first moment I noticed him, he was an adversary, just another instance of evidence that the human world is mean, and that we are a selfish, thoughtless species — an irony that was almost lost on me. And now he’s someone I’m cheering for, someone whose well-being is worth something to me.

The most gratifying part is knowing that this man has no idea he has gained a secret ally — just as he probably had no idea when he gained, briefly, a secret detractor. My new role makes me feel good in the way judging him made me feel bad.

We make snap judgments of others all the time, and it’s not really on purpose. Those kinds of thoughts happen like reflexes. But we don’t have to believe them. If my initial impression of a stranger is a negative one, there’s no reason to take for granted that he truly is undeserving of respect, help, or well-wishes. In fact, I am almost certainly wrong to come to any conclusions about a person’s character after only “knowing” them for three seconds.

And I no longer believe that these kinds of judgments are somehow helpful to the world at large — that I’m somehow upholding order and civilization with my intolerance of any perceived infringement of sidewalk ethics. They are only helpful in a completely self-serving way: to convince myself that I shouldn’t be experiencing the inconvenience I’m currently experiencing.

If you live among strangers, chances are you are constantly becoming a private adversary to other people in ways you could never comprehend. Maybe somebody at the grocery store secretly hates you because of where you lock your bike up, or because you ride a bike at all. Or maybe you stand too close in the ATM line, or you use too many buzzwords, or you’re breaking some unwritten rule in a restaurant, or you’re in the way and have no idea. When you think of all of the petty things for which you’ve privately condemned someone at one time or another, it’s no stretch at all to imagine how often you are, in someone else’s eyes, clearly a bad person.

I’ve discovered that as much as I value good sidewalk etiquette and awareness of one’s surroundings, I want to be the secret adversary of as few people as possible. So part of my recovery is this new habit of becoming a secret ally to a given stranger the moment I notice I’m tempted to become his secret enemy.

Not only does it make that particular instance a much more positive and enjoyable interaction for me, but it’s quickly lightening up my overall relationship to strangers, even to the entire species.

I wonder a lot about the private grievances (and fondnesses) that arise between strangers, as we briefly pass into and out of each other’s lives. Imagine if you could hear every verbal thought that occurs between strangers during a single minute in a typical public square, airport, or street corner.

I would love to think that we’d hear more words of compassion, fondness, and willingness to help than words of disdain, but I really doubt that. Casual coldness to strangers is probably the norm.

But every norm has exceptions. You certainly have had secret allies, at times you will never know. And you can also be one, any time you like.

David Cain of Raptitude.com

Photo credit: Kamal Hamid