Rock, paper, scissors


Rock, Paper, Scissors

You may think that rock, paper, scissors is only a child’s game, but they actually have a world championship in which contestants from all over the world compete. Well, that got me to thinking about the game. This is a game for all ages. The entire family can play. There’s no equipment to buy. The rules are simple and cheating is impossible. Chances are no one will get hurt while playing, unless college students play it as a drinking game. The game is easy to play. Everyone forms a circle and makes a fist that is raised and lowered three times. On the third downward stroke, the hand must form one of three things: Rock (fist), Paper (hand held open with palm down), or Scissors (index and middle fingers mimicking a pair of scissors). Rock breaks Scissors. Paper covers Rock. Scissors cut Paper. The beauty of this game is that no one player has an unfair advantage. Size doesn’t matter. Neither does gender or speed. Not even skill or luck! Everyone has a shot at winning. Each item, is a potential winner or loser. Beauty, eh? It’s a great game for choosing who goes first for another game.

Well, we are like each of those items. We, too, possess this duality that coincides beautifully with the yin and yang symbol. We are a rock in that sometimes we must be strong and forceful, but that won’t always work for us because someone who becomes paper will defeat us. So we have to choose what we become carefully. Unlike the game in which chance plays a huge part because we don’t know what the other player(s) will show, in real life we can adapt to the situation and use the appropriate object. We must constantly change accordingly. Anyone who consistently uses one object will surely fail. We must constantly evaluate our surroundings and adapt. Rock, paper, scissors is the perfect metaphor for life.

Rock! No, wait! I meant paper. No, I mean scissors!

Kiss


Once, soon after my son started getting into the latest cool music, according to his friends, my son asked me if I had ever heard of the rock band Kiss. He described the band before telling me the name because he just assumed that I had never heard of them. Not only that, but I also knew all their names. Wow! Was he in for a surprise! I told him that not only had I heard of them, but that I also had all of their albums–on black vinyl, of course! He was shocked. I then proceeded to show him the Kiss albums and he was in awe of me. I truly believe my cool factor with him increased exponentially at that precise moment. Flattered by all this, I gave him all my Kiss albums. That nearly floored him. Then, I pulled the ace from up my sleeve: “I once went to a Kiss concert,” I told him. He was truly impressed by this. “And I can prove it, too!” I opened up the Kiss Alive album and pointed to a fan in the audience who resembled me when I was younger. That was perhaps the coolest moment between my son and me! Sometimes the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Why don't we go to a rock concert together?