Roll the Dice, Pay the Price

Life is like sitting down to a game of Monopoly.

The board game Monopoly is a micro scale and system. It's all about having your weaknesses exposed, facing your fears, trying times, and progression. There are smaller, day-to-day tasks, and then there are bigger fish to fry.

Of course the looming threat of landing in jail is always there. The chance of winning the lottery always exists. And with every round of the board, we pass Go and collect $200 dollars just as every year we pass birthdays, holidays, and vacations that rejuvenate us.

The money represents self-worth. Everything from property prices to taxes and rent, and everyone from the Hat and the Shoe to the banker is trying to take it away from you. The idea is to not only keep as much as possible but earn as much as possible. How much is in your bank?

The properties around the board--the Oriental Avenues and St. Charles Places--represent life's smaller ordeals. These ordeals fluctuate in color, worth, and impact. Some of these ordeals are more expensive, and thereby, take more of a toll than others. For instance, having food stuck in your teeth might be your $60 Baltic Avenue. Whereas, encounters with snakes might be your $400 Boardwalk.

They are inevitable and uncomfortable. They rattle our nerves and cause us stress and anxiety. But, they are nothing we can't handle. We never know where the dice is going to take us next, but we know the majority of the board is made up of these properties. Therefore, landing on one of them is most likely. And, because we know we can get through them with little to no damage, we mostly move safely through these properties as day-to-day tasks.

That is until we see them being owned by others. Once into the game, we realize we're surrounded by property owners. Those with ownership over life's ordeals. And, where we once flitted unthinkingly now becomes a minefield of insecure steps. We compare ourselves to others and find ourselves lacking. We wish we owned those properties.

Therefore, the strategy of the game is to own as many properties as possible. The more properties you own, the more secure you sit.

The other players in the game--those chasing us around the board, those out to stifle us, debilitate us, drain us, and destroy us so they can win--will try and own the property first. The other players represent life's bigger ordeals: financial ruin, lack of acceptance, loneliness, failure, insecurity, dying, etc. When one of these other players lands on a space you own, they owe you rent.

When you are self-assured, you own your space. When another player like loneliness then comes knocking on your door, you can take his power by charging him rent. The more rent you accumulate, the more you can gird your property. You may already own the space, but now you can fortify and protect it by building houses and hotels. Houses and hotels only increase the price of rent. The more rent a player has to pay, the weaker they become and the stronger you become. Until, finally, you have all their money and you own the other player as well. You have drained loneliness of all his power. He is no longer a player in the game.

However, if loneliness beats you there and owns the property first, the opposite will happen. It is not impossible, but regaining control of loneliness' property will be a tough uphill battle. It is always a race to see which side will edge the other out.

When you bankrupt an opponent in Monopoly, all of their assets become yours. Similarly, when you bankrupt a fear in life, you own its power. The power it had to exert over you becomes your power to exert over it. And, it all stems from purchasing those pesky little ordeals in the beginning when you have the chance.

To win the game of life (which is ironic because The Game of Life is an actual game. But, in this analogy I've likened Monopoly unto life) you start by owning the smaller ordeals. When you face an issue head on and overcome it, you own a piece of yourself that you didn't before. It may seem small and insignificant. But, by and by, you become formidable to other opponents the more of yourself you accumulate. You build up the strength and resources you need to take them down.

I'm not saying that Marvin Gardens is going to be life-altering. On a conscious level, you probably won't even notice a difference. But, I don't believe a person can vanquish a fear (no matter how tiny it may be) without filling a crack in their character (no matter how tiny it may be). I believe that somewhere a chink in the armor will be soldered. And, I think fusing one makes it easier to address the next, and the next...and so on, until you are a chain that cannot be broken.

A chain of hotels and houses in every property across the board. A chain having exclusive control. A monopoly.