Send This To Your Non-Poker-Playing Partner

Dear love of mine,

To the deepest depths of my soul, I am a poker player.

Poker is not just a game for me, it is the lens through which I view life.

Every action at the table reflects things much more profound—patience, self-improvement, and resilience.

It’s the desire to succeed greatly while accepting that on any given day, even my best may not be enough. It’s about persevering through the dark side of destiny, over and over again, and continuing to seek progress. It’s about soldiering on in the face of adversity, continuing to have belief in myself, and learning that the only way to succeed is to outwork Lady Luck.

Poker has taught me humility, showed me how deeply I ought to appreciate the stretches of good fortune in my life. It has taught me, too, that even the people I think I understand will sometimes show up with an unexpected hand. It has proven to me, time and time again, that without emotional control, no good fortune will ever be enough.

When I play poker, I’m not looking to bring my enemies to their knees but learning how to conquer myself.

It is never about perfection but learning to siphon value from my mistakes. It’s about adapting to whatever fate throws at me, knowing that sooner rather than later, if I dedicate myself to it with enough purpose and intention, today’s hardship will become tomorrow’s strength.

I know poker can sometimes seem like an obsession, but it’s anything but an escape—it is a deep tuning in, it is a practice. A practice of presence, of staying observant, of being ready to strike when opportunity comes.

So the next time you find me yelling at my monitor, throwing a mouse at the wall, acting grumpy at dinner, or late thanks to a deep run, the next time I bore you with tales of what might have been, or come up a little short when it’s time to pay some bills, know it’s not due to a lack of love or appreciation for everything that you are—it’s only my soul’s relationship with the game that I love.