During the day when I want to take a five or ten minute break, I sometimes play the word game Scramble on my iPhone. This is a game of skill and you always have an opponent, so I am greatly motivated to work hard to win, even when I play with strangers.
My sister often plays this game with me, but my sister doesn’t care about winning. She just likes to play. And since I’ve had more experience at it than she has, I win 99 out of a 100 games.
That means I could relax when playing against my sister, and just do it for fun, but my instinct to do whatever it takes to win is too strong. I always play to win.
At night before going to bed, I play a very different kind of game—one played with a physical deck of cards on my dining room table. Relaxing with solitaire is something I learned from my parents, and I think several of my brothers and sisters still use it this way.
My habit was not so entrenched before Adrian died. We spent our evenings together, and there wasn’t always time for solitaire. These days I find that even after a night out with a friend, I still want to relax with the cards before going to bed, no matter how late it is.
The advantage of solitaire over other games is that you may play it alone, and therefore can refine the rules to suit your own needs. But it’s a game that depends more on luck than skill. If you don’t get the cards, you don’t win, and that aspect of it teaches me about life.
I can’t force the cards to go my way. No matter how diligent I am in playing thoughtfully, the outcome is not mine to control. I may “go out” or win in the first game I deal, or I may play for an hour without success.
My nightly routine is to play until I win and then retire. Sometimes I achieve my goal in ten minutes, other times I go to bed without a win at all.
Since I have no control over the outcome, it’s best to play mindfully, placing the cards neatly on the table and serenely enjoying each little success, but without clinging.
Some nights I get so frustrated with bad cards that I speed up the play to end a game quickly, anxious to get to the next opportunity and a chance at better cards.
When I play like that, clinging to the desire to win, I become more agitated, not more relaxed.
I remind myself to slow down and take pleasure in the process, not the result. I remind myself to treat the cards with respect.
For me, playing solitaire is a mini-lesson in accepting life as it is, treating it respectfully, mindfully, and patiently.
Play the game to play the game.
My friend Ginny sitting near the pine tree sticking straight out from the cliff edge. We would always stop to look at this tree on our walks. But last week we saw that it had finally fallen into the gorge.
