Yes. I admit it. I was one of the people who saw Pokemon Go launch in the United States and then waited expectantly for it to be available in Canada. Within hours of the game appearing in the Canadian App Store, I had it downloaded -- just in time for the server crash that kept everyone offline for hours. Then, finally, I was able to log in and start playing. I’ve been catching and training up Pokemon ever since.
The game has also made me think about how I approach my spiritual practices. For example, when Pokemon Go first came out, I heard a lot of criticism from people who 1) hadn’t played it and 2) had no intention of playing it. Without any direct experience, they dismissed it because it didn’t fit their picture of a worthy pursuit. It wasn’t for them, therefore it wasn’t to be taken seriously.
I often do this when examining my spiritual practices -- even to the point of having a hierarchy in my head about which one is better than the other. Contemplative prayer, lectio divina, going to Mass -- these are the “worthy” practices, I tell myself. The problem is that, sometimes, those practices just don’t work for me, don’t foster my connection with the Divine. I might be too restless to meditate, or too wrung out from a tough week to get to Mass. Then, when I can’t engage with those “worthy” practices, I judge myself, even to the point of thinking I don’t have a very robust spiritual life. I give up on it altogether, thinking I just can’t do it.
The reality is, I need to remember there’s no “right” way to engage with the Divine. What matters most is that I engage in a way that speaks to me, feeds me. I have been gently reminded over and over by people I look up to that, for me, the act of writing is prayer. In focusing on the page, getting my thoughts out, I build a connection to the Divine that I find very powerful. I don’t even have to be writing about “spiritual” topics -- the creative act, in and of itself, is prayer. For someone else, writing might not do it. For me, though, it does. And I need to remember that, especially when my brain begins its dualistic monologue about the “best” kind of prayer.
Another thing about Pokemon Go is that it has gotten gamers -- typically thought of as a sedentary lot -- up and moving. There are even goals in the game that you can only reach if you have walked a certain distance -- up to 10k in some cases. And there’s no cheating -- the game can tell if you’re walking or riding in a car. Pokemon Go has made moving the body, being embodied, part of the game.
When I’m having a tough day, feeling uneasy or rootless, I go for a walk. It grounds me. I put on my walking playlist -- which has a lot of Peter Mayer and Jennifer Berezan -- and hit the pavement. Again, I see this is prayer. My footfalls, my breathing, the soothing music -- it all strengthens my connection with the Divine. And reminds me that being aware of my body is a spiritual practice -- perhaps the most important one.
I realize I am constantly invited to re-evaluate how I engage with the Divine. I think that’s a good thing.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve heard a rumour about a wild Pikachu roaming the Ogden Point Breakwater.
Kevin Aschenbrenner is a Victoria-based writer, poet and communications professional. He holds an M.A. in Culture and Spirituality from the Sophia Center at Holy Names University in Oakland, Calif. He blogs at www.dearpopefrancis.ca.
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