Time to Toss the Dice

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Mariko's blank expression melted away, revealing a devilish grin as she laid down the five cards she held in her sweaty hands. "Frush," she said confidently. A broad grin spread across her face as her eyes flashed upon the hefty pot of coins in the center of the table. Shinske threw his cards down on the table in disgust as several others laid theirs down gently with sighs of defeat on their lips. Shoko called out uncertainly, "two pair?"

When the kids asked me what some of the more fun things I used to do in high school were, one of the things that came to mind (which I could tell them about) was me and the guys' occasional poker games. I decided at the next English Club meeting I'd show them how to play using the massive pile of coins that I'd accumulated in the three months of living here and not using change. Although I think I would have reconsidered my decision had I known what my JTE's face would look like when he walked into the meeting room and saw cards in his students' hands and coins piled high in front of them.

"What are you doing?!?" he stammered. And in my best feigned innocence I answered, "teaching them English". Which was, strictly speaking, true. If he'd looked at the blackboard he would have seen phrases such as "three of a kind", "two pair", and "I fold" (Mariko's favorite new phrase is "poker face"). He nodded absently and left the room after scanning it one more time, mentally taking down the names of the students to whom the ALT showed the path of decadence.

One might argue the morality of teaching a bunch of impressionable youngsters the value of gambling, but there's something healthy and downright human about taking chances and I thought the kids would appreciate it. They loved it, of course, and attendance at the next English club doubled. We never played again, but the subject still comes up; every now and then, the kids ask me when we'll play next.

I think I'd be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't gambled at something and not felt the double-edged thrill of fear and excitement. If we're not betting money, we could be betting something more valuable like our careers and futures by majoring in obscure fields at university (I know I sure did. There's about as great a demand for philosophers as there is for underwater basketweavers). More radical people are risking their lives in activities such as skydiving or hang gliding. Why is it that we love to hear stories of risk-taking or dangerous exploits, whether in books, interviews, or people we come to know? And why is it that people who do not seek such things in the slightest seem devoid of interest, vigor, and passion?

Some acquaintances of mine argue that every action which humans do is simply another has its roots as a biologically evolved urge or impulse; it's goal being survival, the avoidance of death. Rubbish, I say. If leaping off of a bridge with only a thin elastic cord between you and certain death is a common manifestation of a survival impulse, then Humanity needs to check itself into a psychiatric hospital. My friends and other people I've known who've jumped out of planes, been in a good ol' fashioned brawl, done a fair share of gambling, or traveled extensively have all said the same thing. It makes them feel more alive. I've felt the same when I faced my first enemy in a fist fight and while traveling I realized I'd nowhere to sleep for the night. It's not about the avoidance of death, but the exploration of life. The exploration of a human existence.

You see, I think it's true to a certain extent that you must know one thing to know its opposite. Which must mean that you must know death to truly know life which is a contradiction, but makes sense in way when you consider the extent to which people go to risk comfort and security to come close to that edge. To taste what's on the other side, whether it be failure, injury, or death. And when you've come back from brushing the edge, maybe you're better able to understand or appreciate what you have, which side of the wall you're on.

It doesn't even have to be a real risk; imagination is an amazing thing. That's why I love paintball and playing poker for dimes. The stakes are less, but the spirit is still there; that's real.

Mariko still gets a mischievous, look in her eye when someone brings up that infamous poker game (for which I got severely lectured for afterwards). Yes, I know I may have created a couple compulsive gamblers that day, but I prefer to think of it as an eruption of the human spirit. A mountain that would have exploded sooner or later. It doesn't take a truly life-or-death situation to make that happen. All it takes is a young woman with a train ticket, a man with a parachute, or a girl with a deck of cards. Take a chance, hop on a plane, toss the dice.

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