Chess, I quickly realised, was giving me far more than just a pleasant distraction. Instead, it was offering a window of clarity into my state of mind, a place where the fog of the day’s stresses and distractions were cleared to show me what was really going on, good or bad. My therapist had often told me: you need to find ways to tune into more of your emotions, not just anxiety but the rest of the “big four”; joy, sadness, and anger. Chess is an extremely fast route to experiencing them all – often within the course of a few moves. At a time when the outside world was too extreme to contemplate, it became a useful internal bellwether. If I was playing with frustration and impatience, I knew tackling that big problem at work or having that difficult conversation with a friend or partner was probably best left until tomorrow. If I was playing with grit and purpose, it clarified that I was strong and gave me the confidence to do what needed to be done elsewhere.
In chess, there is no element of chance: no dice to throw, no bit of kit that can falter (unless the board splits in two, which is fairly unlikely), no adverse weather conditions to point to and curse. It is a pure test of your ability to master your thoughts and emotions in the moment; failure to make a good move is, ultimately, the only thing that leads to your downfall. This is why you punch the air when you win and feel unspeakably furious with yourself when you lose. In chess, there are no ways to downplay your victory or excuse your defeat.
Then there is the obvious matter of resilience. Chess is a relentless, real-time test of your resolve. Can you make a mistake (called “blunders” in the game) – particularly the worst ones, like losing a queen – and keep going, or do you slam your laptop shut and be grumpy for the rest of the evening? Do you react to a setback by lashing out with an ill-considered attack, or can you take a breath, analyse the situation and make a smart move instead? Can you contain the joy of winning a clear advantage, and not get complacent? (Comebacks in chess are almost always about this.) Chess, in short, began to feel like a mindfulness exercise and an emotional HIIT class rolled into one. What was hard to tell was whether it was truly transformative, or whether I was merely projecting what I needed on to chess at that time, just as others were with birdwatching or baking.
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