why life is like chess

I've realized that life is like chess. I'm sorry for those of you who don't care for the game; you still may find this interesting. I hope.

Life is like chess because we are one piece among many, because there are good choices and bad choices and because we should be aware of how each choice we make will affect us a few moves down the line. This last part about looking to the future and carefully planning out each choice may clash with the philosophy held by some to simply 'live in the now' and enjoy each moment. Believe me, I love spontaneity. I hold dear the challenge to live each day to the fullest, but within reason. I made several choices when I was younger that seemed perfectly fine and justifiable at the time (always stop and be on alert when you begin to have to justify something; that's usually not a good sign) but which led to more heartache than just my own, and which I now regret. So, look ahead three moves with each choice made. Ponder if the choice made in this moment will be one you'll be happy for later or if it may push you into a corner of regret.

In the life game of chess, I believe that we are not the queen, though we think we are. We think we are the queen because we hold full control. The queen can move anywhere she wants to on the board; there are no limits like the other pieces, and when she comes across a hurdle she simply takes a new direction, bides her time, or plows on through, sure to eventually reach her goal. She also guards her king; for us, our treasure, whatever things of heaven or earth that may be.

Yet I believe that we are not the grand queen, but the mild pawn. The pawn can move two spaces forward on his first move only. After that, it is a mere one space move at at time, always forward, never back. The player tends to not care much for the pawns, sacrificing them before any other pieces, until the end of the game. But a good player knows that the lowly pawn is actually very valuable. Often near the end of the game, when the board has seen some level of slaughter, the pawn, patient as a turtle, moves determindly closer and closer to the other side of the board. Suddenly, the pawn who has almost made it to the other side is a well-guarded prize. Now other pieces will be sacrificed for the pawn, because it is the piece who will soon transform into any other piece the player chooses. Of course the best choice is for the pawn to become a queen; rising in the last moments, the former pawn wields a new power that makes his enemys tremble. The pawn is is rewarded for so many attributes: patience, persistence, wisdom, determination, and not loosing sight of the one all-important goal. The pawn is meek and unassuming, but the meaning of meekness is controlled power. When the pawn reaches the other side - when he has shown himself to be a good and faithful servant in his journey of toil - then comes the reward, and the final battle for victory.


I write this being a lover of analogy more than of chess or anything else. I'm sure that some can find fault with and question it. It was something that struck me the other day when I was thinking about choices and the domino affect, if you will, of how each choice affects our lives and the lives of those around us in an irrevocable way. Not everything is black and white, and even the most carefully thought out move can be challenged and changed. But I think it helps sometimes to remember that in the game of life we don't start off being a queen; we begin with being a pawn. I hope that as I move through this journey of life, I'm learning how to become something better.

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