What is it to play the game well?
At the root, not to violate the law.
To commit the sin of boredom.
Whatever’s your game. . .
Drinking whiskey on moonlit patios.
Having coffee with sparrows that bathe their wings in dirt.
Contrived dancing to heartless 80’s music.
Organizing the production of persuasive documents.
Displaying some flavor of enthusiasm to sell related products on social media.
Teaching others to play well.
Breast feeding the next generation of game players.
Whatever it is. . . the only failure is your own disenchantment.
The law is the law, and you’ll gauge it by witnessing the human applause – subtle upturned mouths with crinkled eyes, outright laughs, or even sobs of passioned grief.
Signatures of non-boredom show you’re moving along subtly righteous lines.
To be known as the delightful entertainer could be worth more than a billionaire’s genius peddling goods in a virtual store.
And to be fully awake is to know there’s no such thing as legitimate boredom.
The leaves that twitch in a slight morning breeze.
The bee manipulating a micro-flower on shoots of thyme.
The furious burst of white iceberg roses from a lone green shoot among the other gray stalks.
A tantrum of nature, saying “this is not boring.”
Something as simple as washing a dish to wash that dish and marvel at the hands, bubbles, the faucet’s water flow, and all the shiny turnings involved.
There’s a scene as beautiful as a Yosemite waterfall in there.
To hear the wholeness of a marine layer covering all.
None of the fullness boring – not the echo of an airplane in the clouds, the clang of a harbor bell buoy, the gnashing bicycle sprocket, the giddy birds and demanding crows, car tires humming to each other as they pass.
Your breath and insistence under it all, and a heartbeat somewhere beneath that.
And rotating electrons in your cells just like the planets around you.
No. Not boring.