At first it may seem unclear how Vipassana meditation is connected to divine play. However, upon arriving at the conclusion of this story its connection becomes quite clear. This manuscript represents the struggle to find play on unfertile grounds – one of rigid, disciplined orthodoxy, and another of inner torment and challenge.

James Carse wrote a definitive book on play called, “Finite and Infinite Games.” The book explains how life is composed of two differ- ent kinds of games – finite and infinite. The basic difference between the two is that finite games are played to win, and infinite games are played merely to continue the process of play. Carse’s book provides a brilliant expansion upon these definitions, showing how these two kinds of games unfold into all sectors of life and culture. Infinite games bears striking similarities to divine play. What follows is a lengthy exegesis on one key passage of Carse’s text, bringing these similarities into focus, and revising the passage itself by following Carse’s logic to its more playful extremes.

The following is an extract taken from a meditative play manual. In the complete manuscript, this manual describes meditations for various forms of play: musical, imagistic, felt, embodied. This particular meditation is devised for the play of thought with a group, perhaps with about 3-10 people. It seems as though the meditation could be performed in as little as 30 minutes, or in as much as 1-2 hours. The main pedagogical content of the meditation resides in the first half of the text. The second half of the text is an expanded metaphysical outline of the possible unfoldings of the conversation. It is recommended to read the entire meditation through before undergoing its directions.

The Amidah (Hebrew: העמידה) is one of the most important prayers in Jewish liturgy. It is sometimes simply called hatefila (התפילה) or the prayer. This text represents a highly revised version of the Amidah, where the prayer is not made directly to the Judaic God – Yaweh, or Elohim – but to divine play. Whether or not divine play is one cosmological force amongst many within the Judaic God’s powers does not seem to be relevant. The structure of the Amidah is retained; its contents are highly edited.

Inside of you lies your darkest darkness – a darkness even greater than fear. Fear is typically some sort of external threat, some- thing that may end your life, or a thing that brings about great tor- ture or pain. The darkest darkness, the most shadowy shadow, the most bilious evil, is something inside of you. It could be horrific thoughts or actions that you could commit to others – grave violences, horrible and malicious acts such as murdering your friends or axing up your lovers. But the most horrific acts, the most splendid atrocities are always more than just pure physical violence. As Nietzsche and Foucault tell us, there are spiritual or psychic sufferings that are far worse than the greatest physical violences. The greatest pains are never physical. The greatest horrors are not the kind of fears that horror films express. What are some examples of these horrors? Abandonment. Feeding someone with hope and then pulling it away. Feeding someone with security and then pull- ing the rug out from under them. Allowing someone to trust you and then, once you become their source of comfort and security, feeding (into the very core of their being) words that puncture their entire self image and dissolve any sense of comfort or stability. Moulding someone to your own will to make them a mere puppet of your desires. Stealing away from someone the only true happiness they contain.

Darkness is upon me. It is here, in the room. Everything is weighty and hard. So weighty, so hard, so challenging. Such weight and heaviness. Heavy heavy heavy. Oh God of Play, where are you? Where have you gone? Even the little bits of light that you exude are so hard to see. How is it possible to bring you here when in this condition? What would make you possible? Wouldn’t the only thing that could make you be here be some kind of detachment? Does divine play necessitate departure? Is play responsible for cosmic avoidance? It is so easy to avoid, to leave behind, to forget. Play, the forgetful. Play, memory’s opposite. And memory? It is gravity’s ally, the forever weighty, hard and non-buoyant.

Say I enter into play with a plan – to win, to prove that capitalism is evil, to play in A minor, to eliminate a disease, to cut down a tree. In each of these, divine play is cut off, negated, and not allowed to flourish.

But for you, oh God of Play, all conversation, all thinking, all feel- ing, all making of music, all dance, all drawing, has one simple di- vine goal – to play. And yes, I don’t always achieve this goal. There are moments when I get riled up, where I get furious, sometimes because I see another holding so dearly onto an idea or desire so firmly. “This must be that,” they say. And now I am so angry! I put all my energy into a negation so that this person sees how wrong they are. I put all my energy into the opposing position (no matter how right or wrong it is) to loosen up the certainty of their position.

You are certain. You say something and what you say has a tone of absolute finality. “Oh actually this is the way things are.” How can one play with such certainty? Play is responsiveness. So then what is the responsiveness that I can give here? My options are limited. I can agree with you – “Oh yes, that is the way of things, and here is why.” I can build upon your words. We make an idea-house together. You put a plank, I put a plank, you put a plank, I put a plank. We build together. Yes and yes and yes and yes. But this yes-building is rather difficult. Why? Because buried in your words, buried behind your idea is a feeling. This feeling isn’t said, but I can feel it. It’s so very loud for me. And it is this feeling that is so hard to play with. This feeling says, “This must be so!” This feeling says, “Anything otherwise is not acceptable.” The feeling says, “Arg! The world is so fucked up! Ahhhh this is bad! Ahhh badness badness badness badness unto all that is not like this.” But I am too sensitive. I notice the tiny peaks of this feeling slipping through the surface of your words. And to build plank upon plank, to build a house in this fashion together (saying yes and yes and yes) is to build a house whose foundation is built on anger and negation. Certainty has roots in fear. Certainty contains hidden anger and rejection. Certainty is a resistance to play.

In divine play everything bad or problematic is integrated into the play – every mistake, error, and mess up. But what happens when the mistake blurs one’s entire vision? What happens when we are living in a mistake? What happens when all is viewed as error and wrong?

How to play when there are thousand-fold worries? How to play when [fill in the blank]? When I might get stuck? When I am being graded and evaluated and judged? When my teacher doesn’t care about me? When my family is angry at me? When I’m sad and alone? When the play could make me more sad and alone? When the play could make me embarrassed and ignite childhood trauma? When I don’t have enough money to pay rent? When my brother is going to jail? How can I play when I feel like I am a piece of shit? When I have nothing good to offer? When everything I do is worthless?