The Spiritual Gambit: Eight Profound Lessons From Chess

meditations on the game and beyond

Possibilities in a game of chess are endless. Well, there is an end¹, but I’m not venturing into the math part of it. The blend of uncertainties, deep thinking, foresight, and secretly hoping for the opponent to blunder makes it a fascinating strategy game.

Interest in chess was one of the gems I lost in the rage of adulthood. But, as nature would have it, rediscovering it wasn’t rocket science once I began walking the spiritual path. While my Elo (chess rating) isn’t extremely high, and I’m certainly not revealing it, each challenging game and the way I navigate through it has become a core indicator of my evolving consciousness.

If you’ve read my work before, you’d know that everything I engage with is deeply spiritual — and chess is no exception. Here are my insights into the spiritual lessons drawn from the world of chess:

1. No two games are ever the same, just as no two spiritual journeys are identical. Some may choose to resign after losing a few important pieces, while others persist until the very end. It’s a deeply personal decision. On the spiritual path, some remain steadfast in their practices, unwavering in their pursuit, while others find peace upon reaching their personal goal. There’s no absolute right or wrong; whether continuing the journey or embracing the present moment, the right choice is the one that aligns with one’s purpose. Buddha attained nirvana in six years and declared there is no soul; Mahavira took twelve and a half years and proclaimed there is a soul but no god; Ramakrishna Paramhansa took a similar time and affirmed there is a god. And yet, none of them were wrong!

2. As one becomes more proficient in chess, the frequency of just-okay moves, blunders, and misses decreases, while brilliant and excellent moves multiply, along with a rising accuracy rate. This progression reflects a blend of calculative focus and sharp intuition — qualities equally vital for someone on the path. Over time, intuitive faculties and mindfulness sharpen, allowing for excellent life decisions made with great accuracy — leaving no room for regret.

3. Capturing an opponent’s high-value piece may seem lucrative but isn’t always the wisest move. That free pesky rook might look like an easy catch, but don’t forget, the opponent’s knight could fork your crucial pieces in the next move! On the spiritual path, chasing quick, lucrative rewards — be it siddhis, spiritual powers, or a tempting "Awaken Your Kundalini in a Few Days" course — may not always lead to true growth. It’s important to reflect on what’s truly at stake, for yourself and others, and establish if it aligns with your deeper purpose.

4. Winning or losing a game doesn’t truly matter (yes, a cliché, but true), unless, of course, you’re competing in a championship. The real excitement, however, lies in the middle game. Strategies unfold on both sides, pieces are sacrificed, blunders happen, and you hunt for that perfect ‘discovered check.’ This dynamic phase is where the fun truly happens. Brushing up on the basics, it’s clear: the journey matters more than the destination. After all, the path is to be enjoyed, for the ultimate destination is all boring once reached.

5. Each game played is like a meditation session in itself. Analysing your blunders and misses is crucial to levelling up and playing better the next time. Similarly, after a meditation session, reflecting on distractions and developing strategies to improve future sessions compounds over time. The effort is unmistakably reflected in the quality of future sessions, whether in chess or meditation.

6. The battlefield might be the chessboard or the mind, but practicing acceptance over frustration and embracing adaptability with each move is a non-negotiable to navigate the game of life, or chess, with grace.

7. Sometimes, waiting a move or two sets up the perfect opportunity to fork their queen and king. Forward-thinking emerges powerfully when we step back to see the bigger picture and trust the process — a bird’s-eye view of all the pieces on the board. In a broader context, certain decisions or the unfolding of nature’s will begin to make sense as we step back to observe our lives, and those of others, with an open mind.

   1. The sad part is that sacrificing important pieces is also often necessary for the ultimate checkmate. Again, it’s about seeing the bigger picture and trusting your instinct that, in the end, it will all turn out for the best.

8. And the most important lesson is this: I am not the piece. While I may use my mind to make decisions for the pieces and guide their movements on the board — they are not the real me. Their movements merely reflect my thoughts, but I do not become the piece. I remain a witness, a quiet observer, watching the scene unfold.

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In my view, every gambit and move holds a hidden spiritual lesson, and I am convinced that chess is, in itself, a profoundly spiritual game. After all, what isn’t?

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For fun: Here’s a simulation of a 1913 chess game between Albert Einstein and Robert Oppenheimer.

1. Shannon’s Number (I decided to include a footnote, even though it wasn’t truly necessary, purely for the joy of having one. But hey, hope you learnt something!)