I watched my mother die. Our parents are our first source of education in this world, with regard to how to be a human being. My mother was a constant source of lessons for me, both while she lived and now that she has passed. She died when I was just coming to grips with seeing the illusory and usurious imprisoning system that culture snares us all in.

In the last years of mom's life we had frequent debates about the amount of cash value she had accumulated in life, and how she was hoarding it "for you kids" (my brother, and I) after she died. I was of the position that she should use as much as possible before she died to both extend her life, and improve her level of pleasure for the balance of her remaining years. She won that debate. When she passed there was a good insurance policy in place, some savings, and a piece of real estate in San Francisco. In accordance with her wishes (which she had been expressing to me since I was seven years old) the property was sold, and the proceeds split between my brother, and I. All of this money that she could have enjoyed now came to us. She not only could not take with her the property and wealth she had accumulated through decades of hard work, but she also did not get to enjoy those fruits while still lived.

In going through the process of watching my mother die, and (as I was the executor of her estate) exercising her final wishes, the scales of the game that culture had put over my eyes were pulled away. I began to reflect deeply on this issue by way of working through my grief over the loss of my mom. What had life brought her that was good? What had been taking from here through her participation in the cultural drive to accumulate things and money? What could have been done differently?

Obviously these questions were more about me than about my mother. She was a strongly opinionated person, and if I learned one thing in my relationship with her it was to not to assume that I knew her mind. If she wanted me to know something about her, she would tell me herself, thank you very much. I respected that about her. In using my mother's life as an example of life, I wanted to learn what might be of use for mine.

So, what in life is good? It's a huge problem, and many minds better than mine have grappled with it, and I don't presume to know the answer any more than they do.

One way of dividing types games is into the classifications emergent and convergent. A convergent game is one that converges play towards an inevitable goal. A convergent game has a definite end.

Emergent games, on the other hand, have no distinct end. They are meant to go on forever.

Studies have shown that convergent games, across the board, give a much higher degree of satisfaction. When one is playing an emergent game, joy and engagement eventually and inevitably give way to boredom and dissatisfaction.

Luckily for us, life is so constructed to be a convergent game. In all life, there is an end. That end is death. Though we may fear it, and agonize over it, death might be what ultimately provides the basic joy of life. Without death's sting, life would stretch on to the point of meaninglessness.

Death may be the ultimate source of fear. It represents the absolute unknown. On the other hand, it also may simply be the one thing that drives the engine of life's poignant pleasure.