Shoving it here (bc we gotta help our frailing updog woof friend #853264) and because chess is health/spiritual (at my low non-elite level anyway) moreso than a game/sport.
(Also, I don't post in the sports territory—except that one time, #848831 —so what's a dude to do??)
This happened today.
"wow, fantastic!"
yeah, not really. It's like bitcoin hitting all-time highs these days; I feel like I deserve to be here, just like I feel (think? expect? predict?) that bitcoin ought to be in the six or seven digits.
Now that I'm back at around the highest chess levels I've ever been, it just feels like order has been restored lol. Having reached my peak 4-5 months back—and then seen a bitcoin-like collapse—it's all just balanced now.
Here's my spiritual take.
I haven't been doing my puzzles or working or studied openings (even though I have some courses I bought/subscribed to and used for twenty minutes...). Nothing is materially different about my understanding of chess today compared to last week, last month, or six months ago. Except, that it's materially, directly, objectively, proof-in-the-pudding right there differently.
The edge (#735212) between winning and losing is so unbelievably small: The narrow win-loss ratio (1 year + 90 days) means the 12-13 games I average in a day rarely manifest in the results.
I eke out a microscopic edge, balancing always on a knife's edge. Worse than the gym, I imagine.
And now check this rollercoaster volatility:
Why Chess Is Spiritual
While it's an objective game (open info, no room of luck or chance), my own discipline, concentration, calculation, estimation, or time usages are not. They're all under my control.... or frequently not, as it were. It often feels like something else possesses me (#844171).
Making errors or straight-up missing something obvious is altogether different than losing because you got outplayed. I don't mind losing when my opponent get the better of me, but absolutely hate losing when I make stupid choices/don't see what's right there.
The anger and self-hatred that it unleashes on a regular basis is unbelievable. Foreign. Alien.
Recognizing my own behavior makes my chess playing an indicator of my life flow, my state of mind, my worries, or emotional turmoil. Even though it's objectively a neutral game of open info, it becomes a battle of mindset and physical/mental relaxation. A matter of health, not raw calculation or a matter of chance. Magical, really.
This is how I put it in a Nostr post way back when:
While chess is an open info, objective game it's so unbelievably spiritual and psychological as well: I play better when I'm calm, life is in order, and there are no immediate distractions. If I'm annoyed, haven't moved my body, worry about money or work, or there's something else bidding for my attention, I play noticeably worse. Nothing feels more soul-crushing than when I'm on that downward trajectory, losing hundreds of points in a few days. But it's just small margins shifting—shooting me in one direction or another. Over time they correct themselves, law of large numbers in operation.
Keep that life lesson in mind, Stackers. Small improvements, invisible on their own, even in a noisy and volatile environment, if repeated day in and day out, eventually create progress.
Just keep at it.
This post might be more relevant and engaging in the ~gaming or ~charts_and_numbers territory.