Musical Chairs messed with my mojo

I loved playing musical chairs in my early years. Whether it was the running around, the competitiveness, or the music that created the delight I cannot recall. I just loved playing the game and can still picture  one or two in my mind.

You likely remember the drill. Chairs are set up inside a circle of participants. Initially there is one chair per participant. Then, sequentially, the number of chairs is reduced and the participant who cannot find a seat is eliminated from play. The process continues until two players compete for the last single chair. Competition-writ-large allows for only one winner. I am certain that Donald Trump thrived in such a nursery school environment. The world is divided into winners and losers. How helpful is that?

It’s a horrible game. Along with another childhood pastime, British Bulldog, such games were surely designed to enhance primeval survival skills. Why don’t we do more, and re-enact William Golding’s Lord of the Flies together. That’d be fun.

Actually, let’s not. Let’s find some games which promote collective strength, intuition, shared initiatives and a commitment to the common good. Such frivolity might not be seen as much fun as more traditional options for some; well too bad; the effect on ourselves, our souls and bodies is unhelpful and unhealthy. We end up taking the rules of childhood play into the private and public spheres of our adulthood.

Relationships can however be different. Consider two stories, the first told by American writer Parker Palmer. Read the full story here—it’s worth a careful read. Finding himself lost in a city Palmer turns to strangers for help. Some are white; others are persons of colour. In the end, it is the persons of colour who provide comfort and a solution to his difficulties. (I hear the story of the Good Samaritan beneath his tale here.) Palmer concludes these words:

“The next time some fascist fool tells me that people of color are ‘poisoning the blood of America,’ I know what I’ll say: ‘You’re wrong about that. What’s poisoning this country is people like you. Feel free to live your cramped, fearful life if you’d like, but we’re not going to let you diminish life for the rest of us.’ Pass the word! And when you can, practice random acts of caring and random acts of trust. We’ll all be the richer for it.”

A second story, also on Facebook, concerns the African concept and practice of Ubuntu.

“An anthropologist proposed a game to children in an African tribe. He put a basket of fruit near a tree and told the children whoever got there first won the sweet fruits. When he told them to run they all took each other’s hands and ran together, then sat together enjoying their treats.

When he asked them why they had run together like that as one could have had all the fruits for himself they said: ‘Ubuntu, how can one of us be happy if all the other ones are sad?’ Ubuntu in their civilization means: (I am because we are). That tribe knows the secret of happiness that has been lost in all societies that transcend them and which consider themselves civilized societies.”

As they say on Westjet* “there are other options out there; we’re glad you chose us.” I cannot fully justify my title claim that Musical Chairs damaged my life permanently. My coming of age and awareness has included only the wisdom of the common good and the value of collaboration and trust. The stories above clearly demonstrate that there are better ways to live, work, and play together. Thanks be to God.

*Ironically at the time of writing Westjet and its mechanics are embroiled in a bitter labour dispute.