I recently was asked to write a piece for the newspaper which formed the programme for the recent Hide&Seek weekender.  I think play and games is a really important part of meditation and this is what I wrote:

You probably can’t read that so I’ve included the text down here. You can also listen to me reading the first bit in an Audioboo (if you’re into that sort of thing)

It’s a swelteringly hot September evening in 2007, I’m sitting in a room an hour or so outside of Rangoon and a moon-faced monk is laughing in my face. Considered to be one of the most gifted Buddhist teachers in Asia today, Sayadaw U Tejaniya is a lot of fun to hang out with. I’d come a long way to train at his centre for a month and as well as the challenge and rewards that so many days of non-stop meditation practice bring, I particularly enjoyed the opportunity every four days to sit down with him for some time and discuss any questions I might have. And it typically began by him asking me to talk about my experiences since we last spoke.

“Sayadaw”, I begin – that being his monastic title – “Sayadaw, my meditation has become like a game. It feels a bit like I’m just playing” This is the point at which he sits bolt upright and starts laughing, so energetically that I can only join in. In his somewhat broken English he squeals:
“People think this meditation, this Buddhism is hard work. And yes sometimes it is, sometimes it has to be – you know that. But remember the point of it all. The purpose of this teaching is to come to the end of suffering. We stay aware at all times, watching our minds. And as we watch we learn about the mind. And what we learn is how to let go. And what we let go of is everything that stops us from being happy and free. And then we are free.”
Then in an instant his eyes went from an open smile to an equally energetic but piercing seriousness.
“When you play at meditation are you learning or just playing?”
“I’m learning Sayadaw”
“Good. Keep playing.”

Now let’s move from Burma to Japan and meet Ryokan, a Zen master and poet who was around at the turn of the 19th century. Epitomising the beautiful aesthetic of that Buddhist school, his writing is direct and often enigmatic. In one of his poems he speaks of a morning when some children asked him to join their games:

I carry my monk’s bowl and walk to the village
to beg for my daily meal.
The children spot me at the temple gate
and happily crowd around,
dragging at my arms till I stop.
I put my bowl on a white rock,
hang my bag on a branch.
First we braid grasses and play tug-of-war,
then we take turns singing and keeping a kick-ball in the air:
I kick the ball and they sing, they kick and I sing.
Time is forgotten, the hours fly.
People passing by point at me and laugh:
“Why are you acting like such a fool?”
I nod my head and don’t answer.
I could say something, but why?
Do you want to know what’s in my heart?
From the beginning of time: just this! just this!

For me this is a poem about freedom. And through it, I think that Ryokan has a lot to tell us about the qualities he has developed through his meditative practice and their relationship to play and playfulness.

Something about availability and wonder. We are often so fixed on achieving particular tasks and going particular things that we miss out on a wider sense of what is available to us. If Ryokan was stuck on getting his food in town then he certainly would not have made the time to play with the children but instead he took the risk of not getting any food at all, and made himself available to the opportunity that was being presented to him in that moment. At its heart, Buddhist meditation – or mindfulness-based meditation – is a practice of awareness, a training in opening our minds and our hearts to all that is happening. In this sense, play is an attitude – the readiness to be open to whatever might happen. Look at the world in this way and we can only see its wonder.

Something about the holy fool. It is interesting to see just as in 21st century Britain, in nineteenth century Japan, when so-called grown-ups play child-like games, they are seen as fools. Throughout all religious and spiritual traditions there is the appearance of what is known as the holy fool – the person who despite being incredibly wise and spiritually gifted – is seen as their society as frankly idiotic. Ryokan plays this role beautifully in his poem – for importantly he has no vanity with regards how he is seen – and just lets the bemused on-lookers think what they think. What is this monk doing playing with street-children? That’s not very good behaviour for someone of his position surely? Ryokan however knows that all his actions in the world are simple expressions of his training – and he’s so confident in his wisdom and understanding that it’s irrelevant whether anyone thinks he’s acting appropriately or not.

Something about freedom and the sense of self. The more you go into the deep end of meditation practice, the more you start exploring the sense of self – asking the big questions about identity, perception and the subtle mechanics of the mind. When I read Ryokan’s words I see a man who has understood himself completely. Never once does he assert himself or take a position which he’s then have to defend…I could say something, but why? And it’s this, his twin ability to fully abandon myself to the simplicity and joy of the game and not have to defend his way of being either to himself or to others that point to his freedom. What a way to live your life!

Due to its richness and diversity, summarising meditation is such a difficult task that I rarely do it. But when I do, I describe it as a stance – a way of standing in the world. We have a choice of how we stand in the world, a choice in how approach life. We can do so with a sense of self-centredness, fixity and limitation. Or we can stand in a way that is open, curious, alive to possibility and ready to be amazed at every turn.

Whichever stance we choose, all I ask is that we be aware of how we’re standing and ask ourselves with honesty and integrity if adjusting it in any way will result in our feeling more free.

I know how I want to stand. I want to stand like Ryokan. I want to stand playfully.

We think games are important. And are looking at how they can be applied to meditation. Do you have any ideas?