My true experience

On a recent train journey, a common modern scene unfolded before me: a child utterly absorbed in a mobile game, prompting his mother's familiar lament, "You play all day on your phone; give your eyes a rest!" A child specialist, observing the interaction, nodded knowingly. "It's the reality for every child today," he remarked, before sharing a truly illuminating anecdote.

He recalled a 5-year-old patient whose mother brought him in for an eye issue, casually itting, "He plays games the whole day." Wanting to understand beyond the symptom, the doctor spoke with the boy alone.

"What's your favorite game?" he asked.

"Temple Run."

"Why do you love it?"

The boy's answer was disarmingly simple, yet profound: "I love to lose."

The doctor, like most of us, was momentarily stunned. We are conditioned to pursue victory, to avoid defeat. "Why would you want to lose?" he pressed.

"Because then I can start a new game," came the innocent reply.

"But couldn't you just lose instantly if that's what you wanted?"

A thoughtful pause, then, "But then how would I get the coins?"

"So, you want coins, but you also want to lose?"

The boy's smile was pure, unburdened wisdom. "You don't know," he explained, "Temple Run is a game I play alone. So, if I lose, I lose in front of myself, and if I win, I also win myself."

This young mind, perhaps without full comprehension, articulated a fundamental truth about our existence. Our lives, much like his solitary game, are not primarily about triumphing over others, but about the continuous, intimate struggle and evolution within ourselves. Every "loss" offers a chance to reset, to gather new "coins" of experience, and to begin anew. Every "win" is a personal affirmation. In this grand game of life, both the losing and the gaining are for us alone, shaping us, forging us into new beings. We are perpetually striving, not against the world, but to win the game of self.