It’s June 2023, and I’m sitting on a beach in northeast Brazil. The afternoon sun beats my shoulders and back into leather. Ahead, golden dunes race away from the other side of a small bay. Behind me, a bike lies flat in the sand. I’m alone and silent. The only sounds are the waves and the light Atlantic breeze.

Today is my day off from the hostel where I volunteer. I work the reception.

It’s not interesting work, but it pays for my bed.

I rationalized taking the job as a way to practice Portuguese with guests, meet new friends, and write during my downtime.

Instead, I spend most days on the computer watching soccer highlights or practicing Portuguese on Duolingo. Occasionally, I’ll check a guest in; fun conversations are even rarer.

I would leave this hostel to its misery, but I have nowhere to go. Rather, I have everywhere to go, but nowhere that pulls me in strongly enough. What’s another coastal Brazilian city to me?

My adventurous spirit is utterly dead. I yearn for that drive to return, if ever.

I took the bike out today to clear my head. Surely, a day cycling solo outside of the city would reignite some of the excitement I felt arriving in Brazil five months ago.

It was fun. I found an untouched beach and floated in the waves. My bike flipped from a snagged chain. I ate a crab. My wanderlust was lifeless throughout.

Now, watching the dunes across the bay, I sit searching, crushed, for an answer as to what’s next.

During my first few months in Brazil, I had a purpose for my wanderings. I wanted to learn Portuguese, visit the places with strange names I heard in passing, meet residents and listen to local histories.

I successfully managed all of that. While there were still more stories to be heard or better refinement of my Portuguese to be had, those goals were now long-completed and remained as excuses to keep moving.

My sole mission had devolved into the most soulless of pursuits: to continue traveling for the mere sake of it.

The goal of the infinite game is to keep playing.

There is no goal, no next chapter, no final level, no end credits.

The infinite game allures because it requires no evolution. It is, at its core, a call to maintain the game as is.

If all we have to do is not lose, then the means to sustain it can be flexible, impersonal, and unthoughtful.

We love infinite games.

Think back to the early days of the iPhone, when mindless games like Flappy Bird and Temple Run dominated the app store.

The aim was never to reach a level but to go as far as possible. Bragging rights went to those who went furthest.

The infinite game gives us a framework to justify our current state or behavior rather than reflecting on why.

It is an excuse to continue playing the game without questioning why we even hit “Start” in the first place.

The concept of the infinite game is one embraced by contemporary grind culture. To them, it means working relentlessly, no matter the cost.

Unfortunately, this is the same culture that believes they will lift their heads up one day to enjoy the fruits of their labor but never will.

This pursuit of earning is an attractive game, indeed, with a low barrier to entry. No one will ever ask you to justify playing it, nor will you ever consider stopping it once you begin.

The easiest games to keep playing are the ones that have the most players.

Alongside the rest of them, the goal will become to continue earning without taking a moment to think about why or how you would like to enjoy it.

Rest assured that, in this game, with proper effort and sustained “grind” you certainly will not lose.

You will also never win.

The goal of the infinite game is to keep playing.

Don’t change too much or you’ll risk losing.

Many of us, myself included, use the infinite game as a means to hold onto a goal long after its been achieved.

We half-heartedly repeat the habits that brought success, as if the first achievement can be relived.

Do you continue running half marathons, or do you go for the full?

Do you keep refining a language you’re fluent in, or do you take on another?

Do you keep working an unfulfilling job because you’re proficient at it, or do you switch gears to a more meaningful challenge?

One cannot persist in trying to climb a mountain when at its summit.

The goal of the infinite game is to keep playing.

When applied as an overarching attitude toward life itself, playing the infinite game means to keep on getting by.

Whether subscribed to a religion or not, I can promise you this: we are not placed in this world to simply survive; we are here to purposefully complete a mission.

As American novelist Jack London wrote,

The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.

Our goal should be to win the game, gain some XP along the way, and then take it to play a new game.

It’s November 2024, and I’m sitting in my apartment in Buenos Aires. Sunlight beams through my floor-length glass doors. Ahead, a laptop sits open displaying an essay draft. Behind me, a construction worker squashes a post-lunch cigarette under his boot on the block below. I’m alone and silent. The only sounds are my keys typing and the cars buzzing by.

It’s not my day off today. I work odd jobs online now.

It’s not interesting work, nor is it stable, but it pays the bills.

I rationalized coming down here to pursue a life that I created on my own terms, in a city I perceived optimal to actualize that vision.

I’m pleased to have achieved that.

I rent a comfortable apartment, I’m in a loving relationship, I have a close community of dear friends, and I finally have a sense of home.

I’m glad I gave myself time to enjoy these things without worrying about the next step.

It’s now been enough time idle though. I once again find myself in the infinite game, playing it out without an intention to win.

I want to take on work that fits my long-term vision and not just keep doing enough to continue playing.

So, off I go, taking yet another leap—this one in hopes of fortifying what I’ve built here in Buenos Aires.

In equal parts, I feel excited, terrified, and curious.

I’m about to hit “Start” on a new game.