On Staying in the Game

Surat Lozowick
4 min readFeb 6, 2019

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Monopoly by William Warby on flickr.com — CC BY

I’ve been playing games for as long as I can remember. As a kid — before phones were ubiquitous, before I had an Xbox, before HD, 4K, 3D, VR — it was invented missions in the forest and adventures in the field, spending afternoons far from anything that resembled civilization, and coming back with stories to tell, some “true,” others something else, but the difference didn’t seem to matter so much.

There were tree forts and pine cone wars, snow sculptures and sledding.

There were boardgames in the evening with the family, and card games based on speed and slapping the table first. Wham! “Mine.” Wham! “Too slow.” There was solitaire and Minesweeper on the family PC, running Windows 98. There were games from Miniclip, downloaded from the library before we had internet at the house.

Then there was PlayStation 2 at a friend’s house, and finally an Xbox of my own. Halo, Gears of War, Ghost Recon. Chatting with friends over Xbox Live, a team that would assemble online every night.

When friends came over, we’d hook up Rock Band, with all its instruments and attachments. Even the friends who weren’t into games would join the fun, belting out Blue Oyster Cult and Red Hot Chili Peppers.

In the summer, we’d assemble in the park for Ultimate Frisbee and capture the flag. On special occasions we’d hit up the arcade, loaded with quarters, like an adventurer carrying a bag of gold coins in the Elder Scrolls.

As I grew, my interests changed. The “games” turned into real world challenges, with real stakes: college, work, relationship.

The games I played growing up were never primarily about getting to the finish line. They were about staying in the game. The fun was in the playing.

This seems even truer with the “real world” games I’m engaged in today, but somehow it’s easier to forget. I feel like I always need to be winning… or I start to worry I might be losing.

Tell me if this happens to you: you forget that getting serious doesn’t mean finishing with fun.

The truth is, in many areas, getting serious has meant rediscovering fun, not abandoning it.

Opportunities for playfulness, enjoyment and appreciation are all around. “Getting serious” can deepen these. But I need regular reminders that taking things seriously doesn’t have to mean being strictly serious.

Taking things seriously means I consider the consequences of what I do or don’t do. It means being aware that how I act and who I am (all of it) ripple out from around me like stones dropped into a lake.

The thing is, I’ve always liked to skip stones and see how far they reach.

Being fully engaged in life and the consequences of my participation can be a lot of fun, if I’m willing to take the risk of knowing I’m responsible for the ripples I send out.

I’d say the games I’m engaged in these days are some of the most rewarding, most worthwhile, most fun I’ve ever agreed to join.

But, it takes regular reminders not to get too serious about myself, while still saying serious about how and who I choose to be. It’s a balancing act.

Life has stakes, that’s certain. And it can still be a lot of fun.

As I’ve taken on new games, I’ve been willing to learn new understandings of fun.

Fun can mean…

  • the deep joy and satisfaction of worthwhile hard work
  • fully taking on the challenges of responsibility
  • being afraid and uncertain and leaning into the unknown, and moving forward step-by-step, to discover what’s on the other side of uncertainty

If we’re lucky — and willing to work at it — we can be having fun at home, at work, and in between. It’s not easy to have fun in a metro car packed from door to window… but it’s not impossible…

Working on projects we’re passionate about can be fun, and if we’re fortunate this shows up (or we find it anyway) in our professional work. Learning can be fun. If we’re lucky — and willing to work at it — we’ll have some of both (applying what we know, and learning some of what we don’t yet) in our daily routine.

But to learn we have to be willing to not know something (otherwise how can we attempt to learn it?), and to be uncertain, take risks, make mistakes, and keep playing.

Here’s to staying in the game. And when a game is plain bullshit, setting it down (when we can, without harm to ourselves and others) and finding a game more worth playing.

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Surat Lozowick

Writer, editor, gardener, family man, serial questioner, and creative thinker, in search of human utility and harmony.