Board Game Philosophy

I have never been good at checkers.

While growing up in Fridley, Minnesota and attending Hayes Elementary school, I had the chance, like all of the students there, to play checkers against the principal. Dr. Switzer looked like a grandpa. He wore gray suits everyday. He smelled strongly of whatever products older gentlemen used to primp--old spice hair pomade, I don't know. He looked sternly at kids misbehaving, and kindly at kids who came to his office to play checkers. But he never let them win. 

I wanted to be the kid that beat Dr. Switzer at checkers. I marched into his office, right to his desk where a strange knick knack of a little green hand that would take coins and put them in a bank sat right next to the checkerboard. I don't think I said more than 10 words the whole time. The game couldn't have lasted more than five minutes. Towards the end, in a panic, I looked at my disappearing pieces. "It ain't-a-gonna be long now," said Dr. Switzer.

I was not to be known as the kid who beat Dr. Switzer at checkers.

I was never good at chess either. 

I remember playing against my dad. I would try so hard to protect my queen. Pawn after pawn I sacrificed thinking I could just somehow outlast the game and keep my queen safe without having to move her at all. I didn't want to risk it so I tried to make her stay put. 

This strategy didn't work in checkers, it didn't work in chess, and I'm starting to believe it doesn't work in life. By protecting the thing we don't want to sacrifice we end up losing it in the end. After the pain of my divorce this past year I wanted to keep my heart safe. I didn't want to put it out there, didn't want to be vulnerable. 

But where would that lead me? If I don't risk it, I end up alone. I may not lose my heart, but I might end up breaking it, or burying it so deep I no longer can access it. 

Hearts are resilient and queens are fearless. Better to send them both onto the battlefield than to make them stay at home.