In 2006 George Saunders wrote, of "The Incredible Buddha Boy," who had allegedly been meditating without food or water for seven months: “It seems impossible he's not dead. He looks made of stone, utterly motionless, as impervious to the night as the tree he appears to be part of. Can I see his breath? I can't. Does his chest expand and contract? It doesn't, not that I can see.” So it is with me, while I play The Sims. Though I am a renowned fidgeter, I do not fidget. I am aware of the woke bikers who smoke below my window sharing their thoughts on “Cat Person,” but I feel no anger. I do not pause for snacks. I do not check my phone. I do not notice as day turns into night. My mind is clear. The Sims, agrees our photo editor Jared Schwartz, “is HELLA therapeutic.” It is the closest thing I have to meditation.

For me it started over the holiday break in 2015, when I saw The Sims 2 in the App Store. (I have not upgraded beyond The Sims 2, and I don’t fuck with The Sims FreePlay.) I bought it out of nostalgia and boredom, and because for the low price of $29.99 I would get nine expansion packs including “Glamour Life Stuff.” I began playing The Sims occasionally, then moderately, and then, as the weather got colder, frequently. I developed a whole ritual around it: I get a little smoky, put on soft favorites radio, and climb into my bed with my computer. My laptop is old and overheats after prolonged use, which is very nice on cold days—like how Laura Ingalls Wilder sleeps with a heated brick in Little House on the Prairie. In this way I sustain myself, like a gecko snoozing on a heat rock.

The Sims is not escapism. Some disciples of The Sims are builders, spending hours crafting homes that Sims will never live in. These people are sociopaths. The rest of us are livers. For us the point of the game is to create and control. “I think a lot of people assume us Simmers play to escape our real-life shortcomings and live our dream lives,” says fellow Sims disciple Kelsey Wentz, 29, of Jackson, Wyoming, “You get a job as an astronaut, marry that super sexy Sim from down the street, and have Sim children who enjoy washing dishes and mopping up water when the sink breaks. I have never done that.” Wentz’s Sims live their lives in procreative anarchy while she sips decaf tea and catches up on Floribama Shore. “It’s my private alone time that I look forward to, especially after a hard day at work. It helps me relax, unwind, unwindulax, recharge.”

Where Wentz’s Sims are “breedy,” playing out many multi-generational bloodlines, my Sims lead short, monastic, childless lives. They have simple homes, and they often watch the cooking channel because it fulfills their “Fun” need while building skills. They are wholly devoted to their work: For me, the most soothing aspect of the game is the linear nature of my Sims’ careers. If they get enough Logic points they will get a promotion. In this way they may rise from dishwasherhood to celebrity chefdom in mere days. I play until my Sims actualize on their aspirations (reach the top of their career, go on 50 dates, etc.) at which point they achieve nirvana. Their aspiration bar turns silver and stays that way forever, and their great mood never falters, even when they are starving or on fire. In helping my Sims self-actualize, I too reach a sort of nirvana. TV used to do this for me. Growing up I could watch TV and feel invested in characters and their wants. Watching Hey Arnold!, I could transcend the self and find peace. Now, thanks to whatever Millennial disease made fidget spinners a necessary accessory, TV feels too passive. When I watch TV I have to do something else simultaneously to feel fully occupied. The Sims strikes the perfect balance between passive and active: I must take action to help my Sims live their best lives, but it’s action with an assured outcome.

Friends who are capable of meditating without assistance drag me for saying so, but The Sims is a shortcut to a higher plane. (These same friends who practice “real” meditation also practice hip-hop yoga, so their opinions on appropriation are sus at best.) I feel emboldened in my approach to meditation by the recent Robert Wright book Why Buddhism Is True. I did not read the book because I was busy playing The Sims, but I got the gist from Adam Gopnik's review "What Meditation Can Do For Us, and What It Can't." Wright's Buddha is "a wise man and self-help psychologist" (Gopnik) and his attitude towards meditation is secular and inclusive: It's a practice that makes you feel a little bit more chill about being alive. Playing The Sims helps me transcend my anxieties by losing myself in the imagined anxieties and wants of two-dimensional pawns. It's time for adult Sims players to step out of the shadows and share our dumb dharma, because it’s hella therapeutic.