Years ago, a friend of mine invented a board game.

Following rolls of dice, players move their colored stones around a purple and green spiraled path and land on squares, which direct them to pick different colored cards from different piles.

So far, what I’ve described is not unlike many other board games, but this game is unusual in that there’s no winner. It’s a game without rivals.

The object is purely to increase your understanding and perspective. Before the first roll of dice, everybody chooses an area of their life to examine. Each card that is pulled offers compelling quotes or questions aimed at provoking reflection on each player’s chosen topic.

The game is called CATALYST. You can play alone or play with a small group.

There’s something about playing with others that makes it a very special experience. According to the rules, when a player picks his or her card and responds to the question or quote, the other players just listen.

After the player whose turn it is relays an initial reaction, the others might ask additional questions or suggest other ways to interpret the idea on the card, but doesn’t dispense advice. No one tries to FIX anyone else’s life.

We play together just to witness another’s perspective and awareness on how they might want to live.

After my successful virtual Mardi Gras celebration, several of my friends decided to play Catalyst over Zoom.

I thought about the word, “catalyst.” There are two main definitions. One comes from chemistry describing a catalyst as a “substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change.”

This definition is backed up with examples from the physical world, like the rate at which the ozone layer breaks down from exposure to certain chemicals.

A second definition has a much broader application; “a person or thing that precipitates an event.”

This means a “catalyst” can be a person or approach or a simple thought that can change everything it touches. I think a catalyst can be a piece of information or a leader of a movement or a window of time when you are willing to see things differently.

In the ‘50s, Roger Bannister, a British medical student, broke the four-minute mile, a record in track that previously was thought as impossible to break. The achievement forever changed the way athletes, in all range of sports, viewed ceilings of achievement.

When Rosa Parks, a black department store worker from Alabama, refused to give up her seat on a bus to a white man, she helped catalyze the Montgomery Bus Boycott, which, in turn, dramatically impacted other great civil rights initiatives.

Many years ago, I remember taking a long walk around the Lincoln Park Conservatory. I was dealing with depression, which was not uncommon. I felt stuck in so many aspects of my life.

While trying to feed myself positive thoughts, I remembered repeating a phrase to myself. “I am willing to change.” Over and over, I heard the voice in my head echo this sentiment as if repeated often enough, I’d come to believe it.

What actually happened was a slowing down of the thoughts I heard in my body.

I realized that the words I was saying to myself did not really feel true. I was vowing my willingness to change (in order to have a different experience of life), but I really wanted to be and do things as I had always done. I just wished outcomes would be different. I wasn’t opening myself up to change. I wanted results to change for me.

Ah what a catalyst I experienced by hearing with my body.

So, in preparing to play the game, I considered different areas of my life to examine. I held space for an aha moment. But, I decided that even if no lightbulb went off, marking some dramatic departure from the status quo, I became aware that just playing the game is a “catalyzing” event.

I live alone. I have many good friends, but I don’t have regular conversations with others about things that matter to me.

For me, sharing more of my thoughts, even incidental ones, is huge. Having other Catalyst players witness my mind’s meanderings as I work something out reminds me that my process is important. Being witnessed, feeling heard, reminds me that what I feel matters.

Feeling listened to is no small thing.