Moon Fish Ocean is our whimsical Zen version of "Rock Paper Scissors."  You can play the game online at the official website.

Here's a fun tip for taking the game on the road:

Use Moon Fish Ocean to navigate the maze of pathways in a formal garden (especially a garden with a koi pond!). You and your companion should throw a hand gesture at each crossroad or forked path. If the person on the left wins, go left. If the person on the right wins, go right. If it's a tie, continue walking straight ahead (or throw another round in the case of only two choices of direction). The game is guaranteed to lead you to all sorts of beautiful areas of the gardens you didn't know about, simply because you would never have gone down certain (less eye-enticing) paths. So Moon Fish Ocean can serve as a form of navigation in which Lady Luck dictates the itinerary.

A visitor asks:

It is not clear to me what makes this conducive to meditation. Is it being so focused on the activity that all else is put aside?

Like "walking meditation," Moon Fish Ocean can be a form of meditation in action, in which the experience of game play is the focus of heightened awareness.

Here's a precursor to Wenceslao Moreno's "Señor Wences" act, from A History of Advertising from the Earliest Times by Henry Sampson, 1874.

The mysterious white hand, from The Great Jekyll Diamond by John Lawton Owen, 1897.

From Matthew Flinders by Robert Thynne, 1896.  The text reads, "Behind this hand neither land nor strand.  Jim's discovery in the ice plain."  

Here's a precursor to shadow puppetry, from The Art of Projecting by Amos Emerson Dolbear, 1877.

"Votive Hand": an illustration from Byeways in the Southern Alps by Edwin Josiah Miles (1893).

An illustration from The Divine Seal by Emma Louise Orcutt (1909).  The caption reads: "A few feet away ... stood Ozomoth."

An illustration from Etidorhpa, or The Strange History of a Mysterious Being and the Account of the Initiate's Remarkable Journey by John Uri Lloyd (1895).  The caption reads: "Each finger pointed towards the open way in front."

"Why new houses are haunted": an illustration from an 1886 issue of London Society Illustrated magazine.

a hole in something
what a card trick does to fingers

—Gary Barwin, "Because Birds"

To our knowledge, only one person has thoroughly described what a card trick does to a magician's fingers.  With each magical performance, the digitations are aroused to "borrow" or "liberate" according to new yearnings.  Some fingers steal people's secrets, under the delusion that possessing elements of a personal life makes them one's own.  Some steal other people's names, leaving in their wake individuals without any knowledge of who they were, forced to trust in the testimony of friends and relatives.  Some steal time, with the logical intention of prolonging their days; they steal past time when in the mood to dwell upon memories; they steal present time when feeling constricted by immediate limitations; they steal future time out of the very lives of children when hard hit by the panic of impending dissolution.  Some steal dreams, leaving others' sleep blank and uncharacterized.  Some steal sleep itself so as to hibernate like a bear, leaving victims staring, on the verge of despair and madness, night after night in the indifferent dark.  Some steal others' hope, though always leave just enough to keep them from suicide.  We find these insights in Wendy Walker's masterpiece The Secret Service (1992), which we have here paraphrased.

Here's a precursor to "Thing" from The Addams Family, from a 1921 issue of Collier's magazine.

An illustration from an 1897 issue of The Strand magazine.  The caption reads: "The sign of the devil."

Which hand below represents "the careless hand of time"?
Highlight this black square to reveal answer: B.