What Chess Teaches Me About Life

and it’s not all about the moves

A few years ago, I thought it would be a good idea to learn how to play chess. My partner and I enjoy playing backgammon, cards and board games with friends, and I thought this would be a great addition.

But when I lost the 99th game in a row, I threw in the towel. I just couldn’t get it. I knew the aim and directions to push the pieces, but I couldn’t get it and I got more frustrated.

I metaphorically threw the board on the floor and flounced away.

But I wanted to understand why I couldn’t play? I was happy not to like the game, but I should at least know why I didn’t like it?

So I persevered, and whilst practice hasn’t made perfect, it has unexpectedly given me joy and taught me a lot about myself and how I see life.

Slow down

My partner and I don’t play speed chess, but we don’t play long games either. We can play a game in ten minutes, but chess has shown me that it isn’t always a good idea to move too fast.

I’m a bish bash bosher. I like to get things done now, and I don’t mind cutting a few corners to get the job done.

But that doesn’t play so well with chess. When I move too fast, I make mistakes; I have to slow down. I need to think about my next move and how it will affect my partner’s next move.

I’ve rushed into many disastrous moves in my life, and I can see that slowing down is no bad thing when playing chess or in any other area.

See the bigger picture

None of us believe that we have tunnel vision. You might imagine that you’re aware of what goes on around you. But are you?

How many things do you notice that aren’t right in front of you?

Chess teaches me to look at the bigger picture, to notice what’s going on to the right or the left. I never used to pay attention to where my opponent’s pieces were; I just concentrated on where my pieces were and my next move. And then, from nowhere, it seemed, I’d be checked by a random bishop or knight.

What?

So I started to pay attention to the bigger picture. To notice where my opponent put his pieces and that there was a reason he placed them in that position.

And this has helped me to notice the bigger picture in my work and for the rest of my life. To formulate a plan. To notice how an action here can influence there. To see how doing something now informs the future. To think ahead.

Thinking ahead

I’ve always been a ‘live for the moment’ type. Both my parents died in their early fifties, so I never saw the point of saving anything, including good clothes or money.

Of course, this has come back to bite me on the bottom. Not with my clothes, you understand.

I used to say that ‘this is who I am’, but I now know that is a construct. I can show up anyway I want, but for my thinking, so I’m trying to learn the skill of looking ahead, and chess is helping me with this.

If I get into reactive mode, in chess or anywhere else in life, it’s the equivalent of fire fighting. I’m trying to get away from my opponent’s queen, dodging the pesky pawns. But if I start to think ahead a couple of moves, I’m taking action rather than reacting.

But this doesn’t mean that I’m always present in the moment. Oh no, I’ve flitted backward and forward in my own personal time machine, thinking about the past and the unknown future, which distracts me from the here and now. But thinking ahead helps me to focus on what I want.

Focusing

And you have to focus when you’re playing chess. I’m not sure how well I’d do if I played an opponent who studied the board and took a long time over each move. This is the quickest way to ensure that I lose focus.

I’ll start thinking about my next client, blog post, or even what I’ll have for lunch.

Playing chess reminds me to focus on whatever I’m doing right now. I drift off, and the game changes.

Everything changes

I think this is why I enjoy playing chess. I’m not so good that I can come up with many different opening moves; they tend to be the same few gambits.

But, once the game gets going, it’s never the same game. I’m fascinated by how each game is different and how many thousands of moves there are.

Knowing this stops me from getting complacent and reminds me that it’s all up for grabs. I might win one game and spectacularly lose the next. Nothing is guaranteed.

And this is a good lesson for life. Everything changes. You can feel like the most successful human being one moment and the biggest loser the next.

You might think that you have the best life one day and are almost suicidal the next.

Knowing that everything changes constantly helps me navigate the highs and lows in my life. It helps me understand that it can and will change, however lousy something might seem.

And to see that it’s not my circumstances, nor the pieces on the board that dictate the change but my state of mind.

State of mind

Chess is a brilliant metaphor for my state of mind. When I’m relaxed and happy, I still might not win, but I give a good game. When I’m slightly stressed or feel that I have a lot to do, my game goes to pot.

I can’t pretend that I lose myself in the game, and it’s a form of meditation for me, but when I’m as present as I can be, chess is a different game, but when I’m distracted, I can’t play for toffee.

And isn’t that the same in every area? When my mind is clear, I’m winning. The only time I can put my hand on my heart and say that I’m totally present is when I’m with a client. When I’m sitting with a client, they are all I think about. I don’t drift off or think about putting the washing on; I am totally there with them.

When I bring this version of me to chess, I’m on fire.

And when I bring this version of me to other areas of my life, I’m pretty hot too.