You’ve Played the Game—But Have You Felt the Rhythm?

I used to think luck was random. That fate was written in invisible dice rolls and shuffled decks.

Then I sat down at a screen in my dimly lit apartment in Chicago—rain tapping against the window—and began playing Fu Niu Feast.

Not for money. Not even for victory.

But because something inside me needed rhythm again.

The First Bet Was a Prayer

My first move wasn’t strategic. It was instinctive: I clicked “Bet” without reading the rules. My hand shook.

I lost instantly.

And yet… I didn’t feel defeated. I felt seen.

Because in that moment, I realized: this game wasn’t about beating odds—it was about remembering how to be present.

In my world—where identity is layered (Black mother, Irish father), where anxiety hums beneath quiet thoughts—I found unexpected sanctuary in these digital rituals. Each hand felt like a breath drawn before speaking aloud.

The Discipline of Delight: How Budget Became Ritual

I started small—not because I lacked courage, but because I wanted meaning.

I set a limit: Rs. 800 per day. Not enough to risk anything real—but enough to feel something real.

That number became sacred. Like lighting incense before writing poetry.

Every time I hit that cap, I closed the app and stepped outside—not to escape, but to re-enter life with fresh eyes.

This wasn’t gambling. It was meditation with stakes—and it taught me more about self-control than any lecture ever did.

The Secret Isn’t Winning—It’s Feeling Whole Again

There were nights when I lost Rs. 12,000 in one session—the kind of loss that makes your chest tighten and your mind race with regret.

But then came clarity: The game never promised wealth—but it did promise attention, a moment where all noise stopped, a single heartbeat between two choices: you can panic—or you can breathe.

And so I chose breath over fear again and again. That’s when magic happened—not in wins, because no jackpot could match what happened inside me: somehow, after losing everything on screen, i felt more myself than ever before.

Why We Play When No One Watches

The truth no one tells you? The real prize isn’t gold or badges or screenshots shared online—it’s reclaiming agency over your attention span, your emotions, your time as your own space of creation rather than consumption.

every time i sit down at Fu Niu Feast now, i don’t see chance—I see ceremony: a way to honor my need for pattern amid chaos,a ritual that says: I am here. i am not running from silence.i am sitting within it,i am listening.to my own pulse,to my longing,to what i really want beyond survival—to feel alive,in ways language cannot capture,but movement can express through rhythm alone..

in those moments,i’m not just playing a game.i’m writing poetry without words.and if someone sees it?great.if not?still true anyway.