I wrote not too long ago about some lessons that you can learn by playing Go, and I came to the conclusion that Go is better served as a game to reinforce those lessons rather than teach them; in other word, you have to be in the right frame of mind.
Backgammon gives me a different set of lessons, with the same proviso that you wont learn (or be reminded) unless you are in an open state of mind.
Being a game of chance, any game can be lost if the dice turn totally against you. The same sources that read Go as a game of competing with yourself, and Chess as a game of competing against others, therefore conclude that Backgammon is a game of competing against chance. I to some extend disagree. Any one game, or small sample, of Backgammon will be about luck, Fate, chance (and that makes it possible to occasionally drum up some games), but Backgammon and Poker helped me to see that such short term results are a illusion.
Back in my younger days -- which Jim Morrison so aptly described as being a time when things were simpler and more confused -- I would worry often about my luck. I even complained about my bad beats. I knew this was wrong, but I didn't feel it. So I make a little log of my good luck. I but some bad beats on people, sure. But I also had longer than average streaks of good luck holding up, too. Doing this changed my outlook on life, and helped me to understand the importance of the long run, a phrase often given lip service, but I don't think truly respected enough.
Games of chance gently whisper the lesson that the ebbs and flows of luck do not heed our wishes. Will we listen to those whispers or scream at the outcomes? Perhaps not as great a poet as Jim Morrison, but still a good one, Kipling asks us to "meet with Triumph and Disaster/And treat those two impostors just the same" (seriously, read the poem if you never have). In the case of Backgammon, because the game's variables are mathematical, and demonstrable by computers, you can see your variance even more clearly, if you are willing to look. Life really is more mysterious than a game, but all those confounding variables almost beg us to come up with simplistic narratives about why we succeed or fail, which adds an extra layer of illusion to remove.
The understanding that our moment, no matter how pronounced the extremes of their swings, are illusions when taken in isolation, but instead are pieces of a much bigger whole . . . well, that sounds like as much like Eastern philosophy as my musings on Go,
Note: just because others don't see the practice of Backgammon (or Poker) in the same way, but get trapped in the illusions and their bad beat stories, doesn't change how I like the game as meditation-in-action.
Eh, one more note: while I don't let myself play Go when I am less than centered moods, sometimes I let myself play games of chance that way. I try to keep the experience of Go pure, but I sometimes play Backgammon too quickly, and that means, sometimes, too emotionally.
You can't be perfect all the time. (All things in moderation, including moderation).
