"You've been on my mind lately because I've been thinking about your concept of half-belief that you shared at the last NASAGA conference [see this]. I have been noticing how many contexts in which this concept is relevant. It's a big component in just about anything creative: art, amusement parks, literature, fiction, movies (it explains how we can become 'lost' in a book or film), and theater. (Locally the New England Youth Theater did a version of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. The entire play, all the parts, were done by two teen-aged girls! It took place in their bedroom and, just the way kids play and make up games, they acted the whole show evolving into different characters as needed. So here you had the actors demonstrating the half belief that we as an audience engage in to enjoy a performance!)
"A couple of weeks ago, I was working with some nurses who support some medically fragile children in their family's home. The nurses were critical of the parenting in the home so I wanted them to look at some of their assumptions and get in touch wth some empathy for the family. I used Thiagi's Least Preferred Patient jolt. Three patients in a hospital noted for its geriatric work are described and people choose the one they'd least want to care for. It's set up so most people will choose one that turns out to be a cuddly infant.
"The surprise effect was lost on this group. One said, 'I always work the night shift so I wouldn't mind dealing with the patient that can't sleep (the baby). It'd give me something to do.' It seemed I'd chosen a jolt that was too close to the experience of these nurses for them to get into the half belief necessary to be caught off guard.
"So there's this tension or balance between having the 'game' be close enough to the person's experience to be relevant yet not so close as to be dismissed as ordinary and expected. I've seen this too in role plays where people begin discussing a real issue rather than practicing a role.
"You probably said all this in Atlanta, Bernie, so if I've forgotten the details, the general concept still lives on and informs me. It even explains why people support stupid politicians, wars, cults, and more: the need to believe in something that used to be meaningful."
The funny thing being that somehow we know that we don't "really" believe in these politicians, wars, cults. Not entirely. Not fully. At some level, we are not fooled. It's half-belief. And in trying to make half-belief whole, we end up fooling ourselves.
Brian adds:
"We do end up fooling ourselves! And we can choose to fool ourselves negatively or positively. I can say, 'That rubber alligator is such a fake,' and have a miserable time on the Disney jungle ride. Or I can say, 'Yikes, look out for the monster!' and have an adventure. I can say, 'Jane tried to float a pretty lame idea at the meeting,' and turn things into a dull day. Or I can say, 'Jane is quite an innovator. I think her idea might have some merit,' and, when I make the half-belief whole, fool myself into having a terrific day. A friend of mine says the only thing you can control is your own attitude - I think this is how she does it! Have we also, now, explained how a self-fulfilling prophecy works?"
Simages is a publication of NASAGA - the North American Simulation and Gaming Association, the very same North American Simulation and Gaming Association that honored me with the Ifill-Raynolds award for "outstanding achievements in the field of fun."
I am honored to tell you that I have been honored again. I was interviewed by Brian Remer, and the result closely approximates something one might call "cogent," if one were prone to using words of that ilk.
The interview, which is one among many fine articles, appears on page 12.
See also the excellent article by Dave Blum "Healthy Competition, an Oxymoron?"
I found another reference to something similar to the Me/We idea - the one I thought I had made up, and that recently someone in Al Gore's sphere also thought they made up, only differently.
In Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor's TED presentation, she talks about the "we inside of me." You can find this particular part of her talk at around 16.50 on the video. Here's the text:
So who are we? We are the life force power of the universe, with manual dexterity and two cognitive minds. And we have the power to choose, moment by moment, who and how we want to be in the world. Right here right now, I can step into the consciousness of my right hemisphere where we are -- I am -- the life force power of the universe, and the life force power of the 50 trillion beautiful molecular geniuses that make up my form. At one with all that is. Or I can choose to step into the consciousness of my left hemisphere. where I become a single individual, a solid, separate from the flow, separate from you. I am Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, intellectual, neuroanatomist. These are the "we" inside of me.
My explorations of the idea of the We inside of Me, can be found here.
In yesterday's New York Times Week in Review, there was an article describing a new logo that was designed for Al Gore's We Can Solve It (the "Climate Crisis") campaign, an offshoot of his Alliance for Climate Protection. You probably noticed a certain connection between the logo design for We Can Solve It, and my Me-We logo. Allow me to disabuse you.
The Gore logo is of the word "WE." If you turn it upside down, you can see "EM" - which, as you perhaps almost immediately perceived, is "ME" spelled backwards.
Just to note a distinction. For Al Gore, and most people who are trying to address the public, WE is the real target. ME is only there because it is necessary - without it, there can't be a WE. I, on the other hand, have been using the Me-We connection to describe a relationship between two equal parties - individual and group. When you turn my Me/We logo upside down, it's still Me/We. The Me is never in a lesser position, never backwards.
This is the idea of Fun Community, which has become so central to my work, and play - the equal weight of Me and We, the equal value, importance, significance.
Thanks for finding that article, Lee. And telling me about it.
"As I approach my 35th birthday, I wonder if I'm having too much fun....Granted, what I call 'fun' is not what most people do. Here I use the term in a broad and intentionally self-deprecating way, to refer to anything my heart deeply wants, from meditation retreats to writing a novel...I think that, when push comes to shove, I have made these choices because I deeply wanted to make them. Sure, these deep yearnings are different from simply wanting to get some kicks. But they are still about 'fun,' I think: about the juiciness of life itself, about experience, about enjoying life, in the deepest sense.
"...Why are we supposed to grow up and stop having fun, anyway? First, at least for me, there is what Anthony Kronman called the 'firestorm of regret.' I am now at the age where peers of mine are not just rich tax attorneys, but also influential politicians, respected professors, and writers and editors at publications (even) more well-known than Zeek...These pangs of regret occur because of an underlying anti-fun value: that one should make something of oneself. This is a particular, Western value that is not shared by all civilizations. Probably the most obvious counterexample is the Rastafarian (or pop-Rasta) value of spending an entire life delighting in the pleasures of Jah -- working, to be sure, to better social justice, but never losing sight of the gifts of creation, which are here to be enjoyed.
"A third reason to stop having fun, along with regret and the value of achievement, has to do with dignity and maturity. It's just undignified, isn't it, to be the balding guy on the dance floor.
"A fourth reason to stop having so much fun is, of course, that life isn't always fun. Pleasure, even in its deepest form, is only one of the important aspects of life. In a long-term relationship, for example, pleasure waxes and wanes, but if the pursuit of immediate sensual pleasure (affairs -- fun!) is placed above commitment (less fun), the end result will likely be sorrow. Or in terms of health: the burger is fun, but heart surgery is not....
"Fifth, if life is only pursued for the delights of the self -- even highly refined delights like reading post-structuralist theory or creating art -- it becomes a dead end. It's too easy to keep searching for the next thrill; this is how people become addicted to drugs, like an acquaintance of mine who died, at age 38, because of his years-long crystal meth addiction. At first it's fun; then it's less fun; then you need to do it to have any fun at all. So, too, with spirituality. The first meditation retreat is such a high! You think you'll never come back down. But then you do, and you start searching for the next high: samadhi becomes a narcotic.
"Finally, I think we're meant to stop having fun, at some point, because of a sense of deeper responsibilities, most importantly to family and community. Of course, since I've defined 'fun' to include anything that provides a sense of joy in life, family is fun too. But I think it's distinguishable, in that the intention of the family man or woman may be less 'I am doing this to taste the joys and sorrows of life' than 'I am doing this because it is my role, or my duty, or my responsibility.' Likewise for career; it may be fun, but it's mainly responsibility."
Of course, Michaelson's six reasons not to have fun: "...regret, achievement, maturity, truthfulness to life, avoiding the dead-end, and taking responsibility" are, at the same time, of course, six very good courses to take, actually, to bring more fun into your life: try letting go of regret, the need to achieve, the illusion of maturity, the belief that you could be anything other than true to life, try letting go of dead ends, taste responsible fun.
Top Ten Tips for Run-of-the-Mill Players to Enjoy Outstanding Games - from Craig Conley, guest blogger
There's nothing so comfy as mediocrity. Indeed, our culture teaches us both explicitly and implicitly that "okay" is good enough. But when it comes to fun, the middle-of-the-road game players cheat themselves out of something precious. Lackluster players miss out on the special spark that characterizes outstanding game play. We're not talking about the thrill of victory versus the agony of defeat. An outstanding player will have more fun losing a game than an average player will have winning a game. The fact is that mediocre players cannot, by definition, get caught up in the lighthearted spirit of the game.
Following are ten techniques for transforming yourself into an outstanding player of your favorite game.
1. Seek your game's hidden source of entertainment, its heart of fascination. In Classical times, Greek and Roman games consisted mainly of running, wrestling, jumping, riding, and racing. On the surface, these games were nothing out of the ordinary, yet their players made them the world's most extraordinary entertainments, exciting the enthusiasm and awakening the spirits of the spectators.[1]
To find your game's heart of fascination, observe those moments when players become carried away, when they exclaim joyously, when they leap into the air or rise off their seats as if suddenly weightless. Notice those moments when teams cheer one another, when the thrill of the play dissolves rivalry. When you identify the dynamic at playthe true spirit of the gameyou can foster it, prolong it, and take it to Olympic heights.
2. Improve your flexibility and agility (whether muscular or mental). To stretch your gray matter, a Web search for "lateral thinking exercise" will offer puzzles unsolvable by traditional step-by-step logic. To increase your physical flexibility, the "sun salutation" of Yoga is a 12-step series of poses that exercise every muscle and joint of the body. Do a Web search for "sun salutation" to find free pictorial guidance.
3. Use drills to work on weaknesses (whether muscular or mental). If another player is one step ahead of you mentally or one second faster than you physically, that's a winning edge. A single increment of improvement may be all you need for success. Set simple goals and work one step at a time.
4. Better your memory. A good memory is a boon to virtually any game. A Web search for "memory game" will yield hundreds of free online resources for exercising your powers of recollection.
5. Dispel falsehoods that hinder you. Are you convinced that golf isn't a woman's game, or that softball is a young person's game, or that pinball is about making lights blink with a rolling ball? Educate yourself about your game. Read books, explore websites, talk to other players. There's always more to learn.
6. Sharpen your concentration. This is the age of the eleven-second attention span. Being easily distracted is ruinous to game play. Sharpening your concentration takes conscious, prolonged, repeated effort. Keep a journal about your game. Thinking and writing about your game will help to increase your power of concentration.
7. Manage your stress. Stress management techniques will help you improve virtually any game. A Web search for "stress management" will yield hundreds of free online tips and techniques. One marvelous stress reducer is laughter. A Web search for "laughter therapy" will inform you about how laughter reduces stress hormones, boosts immunity, promotes a positive attitude, and engenders a feeling of power.
8. Practice solo. If your game involves two or more people, don't let that fact discourage you from practicing any aspects you can work on by yourself.
9. Embrace change. "Change is necessary to improve your game. You must not be afraid to risk giving up the known for the unknown if you wish to play better."[2]
10. The final tip is too specific to apply to just any game. You already know what it implies, or will soon discover it through your ongoing self-education. Perhaps this tip will require the help of a coach or the advice of a teaching pro. Perhaps it will involve visualization techniques, or the use of a video camera, or familiarization with quantum physics. This final tip may be the ultimate key to your fullest enjoyment of your game.
Once I learned to see the connections between theater and children's games, I began to understand the wisdom contained in their playful dramas.
Once I started sharing this wisdom with adults, it became the thing I liked to do best - more, even, than designing games or reviewing games or writing about games and fun and stuff. I first discovered this when I was leading a workshop for teachers at the Durham Child Development Center in Philadelphia, and rediscovered my joy in ths at the Games Preserve and at the Esalen Institute.
I play with grown-ups, especially playful grown-ups. We play a kids' game together. I talk a little about the theater of the game - the play and interplay of roles. And then everyone talks about the "drama" of the game, as if the game were really some kind of theater piece - especially about the drama they experienced, personally. Not so much about their own, personal drama, but about about the drama of the game itself, about relationships, about the way of things in gameland.
I like what happens as we play and talk, play and talk - some kind of healing, playful, loving wisdom starts manifesting itself. Because we are grown-ups playing these games. Because of the growing honesty and openness and depth of sharing we are capable of, just the act of playing each game reveals to us a depth, a drama more profound, more personal, a truth more mutual, more freeing.
"I have learned to see children's games as scripts," I write, "for a kind of children's cultural theater. I see them as collective dreams in which certain themes are being toyed with - investigated and manipulated for the sake of sheer catharsis or some future reintegration into a world view. They are reconstructions of relationships - simulations - (myths) - which are guided by individual players, instituted by the groups in which they are played or abstracted by the traditions of generations of children."
I like to do this best. Teach people to see this. The artistry, the clarity, the wisdom of games.
And frankly, I'm hoping that by telling you about it, I'll get to do this more.
Clive Thompson, a contributing writer for The New York Times, writes:
...By the looks of it, we're entering a new golden age of social, face-to-face game playing. Consider that in the last year, the biggest breakout hits have been music games like Guitar Hero and Rock Band, and the Wii's sporty and casual titles.
Each of these games explicitly encourages social playing -- people hanging out together. (Here's a revealing cultural moment: I was walking down the street in the East Village last month and overheard two female college students complaining vociferously that they hadn't been invited to their friend's Rock Band session.)
Perhaps we're simply going back to the roots of gaming. Though you wouldn't know it from the perennial hysteria about games turning kids into walleyed, anti-social zombies, videogames were originally a social pursuit, because the best games were available only in arcades, and those places were as convivial as Irish pubs. You'd watch one another play, you'd share techniques, you'd talk trash, gossip.
In the late '80s, the rise of home consoles broke up that sociality, making gaming a more solitary pursuit -- something you pursued alone in a basement or a bedroom. But 10 years later, the rise of multiplayer gaming brought the public vibe back to games. That was particularly true of world-games like World of Warcraft, where players log in often for the sole purpose of chatting.
So maybe it's no surprise that we're coming full circle. We don't want to play alone. We want play dates.
Playing alone is fun. There are puzzles and solitaire and running around trees and stuff. Playing together is funner.
The Spirit of the Game - from guest blogger Craig Conley
The "Spirit of the Game"
by Craig Conley
Without the spirit of the game, what would the game be? Nevin H. Gibson, The Encyclopedia of Golf
Arabian folklore tells of a wish-granting genie imprisoned in an oil lamp or bottle. Might players innocently conjure such a spirit in a game of spin-the-bottle? Indeed, every game has a motivating force at the heart of it -- its own sort of soul. Whatever we might call it -- essence, atmosphere, intention, or ethos -- it's that special spark that distinguishes the game from all others. Like a genie of folklore, the Spirit of the Game grants good sports a wish -- the ultimate wish. (We'll get to that in a moment.)
The Spirit of the Game is not necessarily spelled out in the rules. Indeed, "There are situations in which adherence to the so-called letter of the rules can be taken to violate the spirit of the game."[1]
The Spirit of the Game is a distillation of the intent of the rules. It has been called "a self-regulating set of norms without which some games would degenerate into anarchy."[2]
It is a frame of mind, not a commandment carved in stone. It's a point of view, a sense of humor, a strength of character. Novelist Richard Le Gallienne summed it up perfectly: "To be whimsical, therefore, in pursuit of a whim, fanciful in the chase of a fancy, is surely but to maintain the spirit of the game."[3]
Because it is typically undefined, the Spirit of the Game can be abused. Unsportsmanlike conduct (like taunting and intimidation) is one indication of abuse; bringing the game into disrepute is another.[4]
When honored across the board, the Spirit of the Game turns opponents into equals. Most importantly, it engenders fun. While camaraderie is jolly and competition is stimulating, "the real spirit of the game is all about having fun."[5]
Though each game has its own unique Spirit, there are some universal characteristics. The Spirit of the Game is:
Ultimately, the Spirit of the Game "is the only thing in the game which is lasting."[6]
Corporate trainer Julius E. Eitington makes an interesting observation: when players become caught up in the Spirit of the Game, they "become themselves."[7]
What is one's true self, but that of a player on the grand game board of life? Edward Clark Marsh once described being enlivened by the Spirit of the Game: "If it was not for a moment real life, it at least made you wish it were."[8]
Other signs that the Spirit of the Game is present include:
both sides wish each other good luck both sides cheer one another (winning or losing is secondary; the game itself is a victory for all [9]) everyone plays fair (no cheating, no bending of the rules) players celebrate the game's tradition, safeguard its precedent, and carry on its legacy players supervise themselves.
Game scientist Andrew Thornton notes that "There is no agreed upon definition of the Spirit of the Game, but there is a pervasive sense that one should play by it. The Spirit of the Game is the Police" inside each player's head.[10]
But we've neglected the quintessential sign that the Spirit of the Game is present. And that's when the ultimate wish is granted: the firing shot that sets play into motion. When the game is afoot, all else is inconsequential!
Fun Facts about the Spirit of the Game:
In Ultimate Frisbee, where there are no referees and no penalties, the Spirit of the Game is the underlying philosophy. "The Ultimate player will always praise and support successful actions on both teams. It is a normal thing to introduce yourself to the opponent at the beginning of every point and to wish him a good game. And after the game both teams stand in a circle talking about the game and singing a song for the opponent team. So it is a lot more t
In yesterday's 
Just to note a distinction. For Al Gore, and most people who are trying to address the public, WE is the real target. ME is only there because it is necessary - without it, there can't be a WE. I, on the other hand, have been using the Me-We connection to describe a relationship between two equal parties - individual and group. When you turn my Me/We logo upside down, it's still Me/We. The Me is never in a lesser position, never backwards.
The "Spirit of the Game"