Tami Simon
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Tami Simon
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
Alan Watts
What do people do most of the time when they—what would they like to do, really? What’s your idea of heaven? When people are unoccupied, as far as I can make out, they get together and they sing and dance. Or else watch somebody else do it. Nowadays we live in a non-participative culture and we don’t do very much singing and dancing. We are lugubrious. But we watch other people do it on television. What we really are interested in is to be able to spend all the time going, gohooda-bada-doo boom-di-di-boo-ba, bee-boo doodie-boodie doo-doo tchi-ko boom-boom-boom, you know, something like this. And that's what our heart is doing, that's what our lungs are doing, it's what our eyeballs are doing, and it’s what all these fantastic capillaries of the veins are doing. They're just going, joo-di-boo-di, huppa-bubba, umpa-buba jee-dee-dee-dee, you see? And that’s the point.
Now, the thing is: ought this to be allowed? You know, dare we admit it? Because we’ve been brought up, you see, in a cultural context in which the universe is presided over by somebody serious. And it’s only very, very occasional obscure references in the Jewish and Christian scriptures to the idea that God dances. Of course, in Hindus—they know Shiva dances, and all the Gods dance, and they are represented in the dance.
But in our way of looking at things—no. Back, deep down in, there is something that you must respect with a very, very—you mustn’t laugh in church, especially if you got in front of the throne of heaven. Everybody would be dead silent. Wow! You see, I mean, that’s really serious. Here is the Father Almighty, world without end, and you watch out! Don’t you laugh! Why not? Because Father Almighty, world without end, is a very insecure fellow. And if anybody laughed he might feel uneasy, you know? Like something wrong going on; someone challenged his power. So he is a funny fellow, you see, as we’ve mythologized ultimate reality in the form of this cosmic grandpapa, who is also a king and is demanding—above all things—reverence and respect.
So it’s difficult for us—because of that cultural heritage—to accept, to accommodate our common sense, to the idea that the web might basically be playful. That it might be like somebody saying, Won’t you come and play with me? A child. And the other child has some little hesitation. I don’t know whether I ought to play with you. You come from the wrong side of the tracks. Or, I don’t feel like playing today; I feel serious. I don’t think play is important. We ought to do something real, like wash the dishes for mother. Who, incidentally, has forgotten that the whole point of washing the dishes is playful. You know, you don’t wash the dishes for a serious reason. You like the table to look nice, you know? You don’t want to serve up the dishes with dinner with all the leavings of breakfast still lying on them. So why do you want the table to look nice? Well again, it’s f’nice, you see? You like the pattern of it that way.
People get terribly compulsive about doing these things, and they think that going on arranging the patterns of life is something that’s a duty. That means a debt that you owe it to yourself, or to your family, or to someone or other. You’re in debt. See, that’s the trouble. When a child comes into the world, the parents play an awful game on it. Instead of being honest, they say, We’ve made such great sacrifices for you. Here we are, we’ve supported you, we’ve paid for your education, and you’re an ungrateful little bastard. And the child feels terribly guilty because what we do is we build into every human being the idea that existence is guilt. The existentialists make a big deal out of this, and you watch out for them because they’re hoaxers, and they say that guilt is ontological. If you’re not feeling guilty you’re not human. And that was because papa and mama said, Look at all the trouble you've caused us. You shouldn’t dare to exist. You have no rights, but maybe we’ll give you some, out of the generosity of our hearts, so that you’ll be permanently indebted to us.
And so everybody goes around with that sort of thing in their background, unless they had different kinds of papas and mamas who didn’t play that trick on them. But so many papas and mamas do do that. And if they don’t do it, somebody else does it. Aunty comes around and says, You don’t realize what your father and mother have done for you. You think, you know, you can just stay around here and goof off! But they’ve sweat blood to give you your clothes, and food, and so on, and you ought to be grateful for it. But that’s not the way to make people grateful. They won’t be grateful that way. They’ll imitate gratefulness. They’ll go and put on a big show and say, Oh thank you so much! I feel so indebted to you! And so on, and so forth, and they’ll make it look good. But it isn’t real. Because, actually, one’s father and mother had a great deal of fun bringing you into being—or we hope they did. And they wanted to do that the worst way. They have no reason to complain about all these things, and try and make the children feel guilty.
But, you see, it’s an amazing thing in our culture that everyone is afflicted with ontological guilt. For example, if a policeman comes to the door, everybody is instantly frightened; you wonder, What on Earth have I done? And there are certain clergy who are absolute experts in making you feel guilty. They’re really marvelous. And there are clergy of all kinds, for all classes, and for all levels of intelligence, and they can make you feel real guilty. Only, you have to watch—always—what games people are playing.
Now, you see, the thing is—that really is a puzzle—is that they don’t admit they are playing games. And when a person is playing games, and doesn’t admit that they are playing games, then you have some kind of a trickster who isn’t really being fair to you. Now, of course, the game that this game is not a game has a certain kind of a fascinating quality to it. How mixed up can we all get? Let’s try. See? There’s a certain possibility in that. I would like to go insane, and be as insane as anybody has ever been, and be the far-est out crazy nut in the world. See, that’s a game. But it’s not a good game. It’s a game being played by a person who didn’t really understand that everyday life was a game too. And I think the most important thing is to admit this.
The Web of Life, Part 13: What Game Would You Like to Play? was written by Alan Watts.