The Games of Life

From Monday, December 5, 2011. I was prompted to find and type up this story after some friends of mine gave me another copy of Thomas's pamphlets and game at Pub over the weekend. Some other friends stuck around later and we played it. But that's for another post...

Ah! Nothing like the first bit of writing with the first pen from a brand new box. Because I worked at the shop yesterday I took today off, and strolled downtown to buy six months of blue notebooks and a couple boxes of pens at Alko Stationers. On my way there I stopped in at Games of Berkeley for my occasional browse through their game books. I don't think I've bought anything at a game store in almost a year, and I think the reason is (besides the fact that I don't play any games) that there just isn't anything that grabs me on all the necessary levels for it to be a compelling purchase. I'm studying all this magic theory now, and I love fantasy art and tabulation, but even though I noticed last weekend how role-playing game books were one of a few genres that still produced quality overall packages, I didn't flip through any books yesterday which just blew me away. I guess what I'm looking for anymore is a lush Guide to Life, a game which encompasses so many of the activities we do every day and turns them into an adventure. Of course I'm about to embark on one such journey soonish, and I'm sure I'll be wanting that imaginary book more than ever at that time!

What I look for is artwork and a world concept which evoke, or bring forth, true wonder, and games are only half about that, the other half of their existence being about quantifying and readying for calculation and outcome the risks the characters take in the game. The theory behind the mechanics always fascinated me, in a way,  but no more really than the idea that there could be some way to put a percentage score on one's chance for success.

So I left empty-handed and happy and strolled the block or so to Alko to buy the notebooks and pens, then retraced my steps back toward home. As I neared the intersection where Games of Berkeley is, I noticed there was a tall, bearded man standing on the sidewalk wearing a sandwich board and a hat with a sign taped to it. One thing Berkeley never runs out of is demagogues, and although I was curious to know what this fellow was proclaiming, I also wasn't in the mood to talk politics with him. Or with anyone, for that matter. I don't know if it's been the result of studying magic or just a fortunate side-effect, but my thoughts on what is or isn't "good" for humanity has been shot somewhere else -- I'd say elevated, but spirituality isn't any more important than putting dinner on the table. Both are arenas of life, and a happy situation in either realm can make for a happier existence. I'd rather discuss spirituality, though, given the choice.

Which is why I was moderately thrilled when I got close enough to the man to see that it wasn't a sandwich board at all he was wearing, but a stack of laminated posters absolutely loaded with colorful esoteric symbols. I recognized the style as being from a completely indecipherable pamphlet I'd picked up at a coffee shop or somewhere similar, maybe just found it on the sidewalk. Well, here were more, on the sidewalk no less, and wrapped around what appeared to be their publisher. I walked right up and said hello, asking him what he was selling. What followed was a ten-minute-or-so, mostly one-sided conversation with the gnomic fellow, who said his name was Thomas and who had the most optimistic outlook of anyone I'd met in a long time. His colorful, seemingly offset-printed, type-and-image dense pamphlets, posters, and cards seem to be about finding wonder in life, hidden somewhere amidst Zodiac figures, Egyptian tomb iconography, and pictures of everyday objects including Barbie dolls and G. I. Joes, other toys, food, smiley faces, and words words words words words, the sentences colored black but with words or sometimes mere sets of letters within words shaded gray or tinted red or green to draw out layered meaning. An essay about insects compares the physiology of the praying mantis to a centaur in pictures, and states among the dense text, "We may not Bee [colored brown] so differ-ant [bold black] in our True [gray] Form -- Self [grey]!"

All I can say so far, without having yet read one through or investigating the "game" Thomas said was included in the pack of pamphlets and cards and poster I bought (just five bucks!) is that this ephemera proves that there is more out there in the world than anyone truly supposes. He hinted that this very fact was what he attributed some of his positive outlook to -- the Law of Infinite Data. Who knew that not knowing everything, or knowing that there is so much you don't know, could be spiritually liberating? It does all come down to perspective, though, and I can see how the same realization could depress some people. Thomas also noted that the act of complaining is the basis for much of the world's evil, how people get so contracted and constricted focusing on the negative. He conceded that there was much to complain about, but said that it is the focus on the negative which is ultimately destructive. Another interesting topic he spoke about was how multifaceted each of our senses of self (worldviews, Bonewits would call them, or meta-patterns) is, and that this is wonderful because not only do we have to align ourselves individually with one philosophy or organization or another -- Conservative, Liberal, Episcopalian, et al -- but that as human beings we can pick and choose, making up who we are as a constantly changing and growing mosaic, not simply a monolithic belief.

I think the conversation did both of us a lot of good today. Thomas said that I'd made his day by stopping to chat, and I was glad to engage a fellow artist, publisher, and optimist, even if I left the meeting not one step closer to figuring out what in the world Thomas' enigmatic work is about.