A few hours later I am riding a courtesy van through the hot and dusty streets of Las Vegas. The people here have an added cruelty of greed which can be seen lingering in the dull shine of colorless eyes. I am now on home soil, but the land gives no ease or comfort, and I decide to seek it at a poker table. It is the rules which define the game which attract me. Chaos arrives in random cards along with the faces and words, but these are navigated easily enough.
I gaze at the men, anticipation brightening their tired eyes, sitting around the clean, felted table, seeing various cultures shaped into the color and curve of their faces - Asian, Indian, Spanish, European, American, all are seeking solace here, but for varied reasons. I doubt I am the only one who comes not for potential monetary gain, but rather grasping for an odd sense of fulfullment through the discovery of a world where correct decisions and noble ambitions are rewarded with a peaceful mind and a quiet heart. I have learned that to accept the cards and the faces which are delivered to this morning, church-like room, will bring, if only for a few moments, meaning and happiness, a potential Toaist lesson dealt with every hand.
Luck or bad luck arises from the attitudes and reflections of my mind. As the cards arrive and leave, I experience a wide range of images and colors, pushing away fear, greed, anger, as I would a poor hand into the muck. Even with a set of rules in place, each moment allows for a foolish act or word to pass from me to the table. If I remain silent too long, throw every hand away, the faces which gaze upon me will make note. It occurs to me that I could be dealt weak cards for an eternity, it is within the range of possibility, but as likely as flipping a coin which comes up heads forever. Perhaps every person at the table hates the sight of me. I check myself and find no hatred for the faces which surround me. I look at my cards, throw them away. I say nothing. As the game continues to be shuffled and dealt, words are exchanged, which are hazards to my freedom. A single response leads to another, and expectations soon arise. To remain unaffected and free, I push the closeness of the words and people away. I imagine this to be the point where the hatred begins - am I too good to speak, to become part of the group?
My thoughts are interupted by the arrival of an ace and a king. I am required to act differently from the past, and the men will watch closely as I do. I feel my pulse quicken, a sign that danger has approached and is following along like a purple shadow. “When surrounded by people act as if you are alone in a field”. I breathe, seeing trees and sky. Birds fly quickly with grace through tangles of branches. Fear is absent as I feel with slow moving fingers the smoothness of the round chips. Instead of raising, I simply push the minimum amount past the line on the table, nevertheless, it is still an action which is closely observed. A talkative man who is on the button announces confidently that he is raising. I look at his face and sense that he will soon attemt to intimidate me, but he has little chance because fear is nowhere inside my heart. I think about my ability to correctly read the emotions and desires in another, and wonder if he instead could be holding two jacks. The man in the big blind calls, and I am again required to act. I sense the confidence in my heart rising like a morning sun. I consider raising. Should I push all in? I breathe and decide not to act quickly. All of my future cards could be trash, so this may be the only important decision I will be required to make. I decide to call, and wait for the cards which the dealer will bring to the table. They come, and I see an Ace. With alarming immediacy the man in the big blind announces he is all in. I straighten my back so that I can breathe deeply. I don't look at the man's face, or anything else. In this moment of stress I seek my intuition and the clues inside my heart, attempting to get a sense of what just happened, and what the correct response is to be - I am searching for the truth. A simple yes or no question repeats - does he have a better hand than me? Other questions surface - would he push all in with a single pair? Does he have two pair, or a set? Is he on a draw? All I have is one pair, but it is the best possible one pair - not great, not bad. I continue to seek and an image comes into focus that I have a better chance of winning than losing, and although it is against logic to call, I do so anyways. The man on the button says “oh well” and mucks his cards, and the man in the big blind turns over one pair of Aces, with a 5 kicker. I show him my Ace and King and am surprised by his graciousness as he sincerely nods his head and says “nice hand”.
As I move away from the completed tournament, $550 clutched inside my hand, I am already missing the rules of the game. My legs are weak from sitting at the cramped table, and I feel a desire for food. Outside the hall, walking alone in the achingly bright desert sunlight, the sky cloudless and blue, images of faces, cards, emotions, mix with my immersion into solitude. There is no need to talk, the chaos has returned, and I am free.
