Relatively recently, I finished the book "Flow" by Mihaly Csikzentmihalyi.
In the book, he proposes the concept that the human mind in its natural state is chaotic, meaning a jumble of thoughts and emotions. How many times have you been doing a certain activity and something completely unrelated to it just pops into your head? Our minds wander all the time, this is natural.
The human experience is complex to say the least, we have to deal with our own petty little problems while also accepting the infinite complexity and crushing indifference of the universe.
As a chess player, I can certainly apply my personal experience to this.
Chess provides a good limit of such complexities. By constraining our consciousness to 64 checkered squares, we can allow ourselves to forget about such things as the receding arctic sea ice, the fact that we may have to stop eating fish as they are consuming the plastic which we throw into the ocean, and how much the IRS will tax us. Chess has definite rules, and this helps to simplify and organize life for us. When I entered my gap year in 2016, I decided to occupy my overabundance of free time with chess, and that was ultimately for the better as I can’t imagine how my mind would’ve reacted to the overwhelming freedom and inactivity granted by a gap year.
But it’s not only chess which can provide a cognitive haven for people, we see it everyday in the systems which we operate in. The military is an ideal example, they bring order into people’s lives, and from what I know it is not uncommon for veterans to feel a sense of dissonance when they have to return to the aimless nature of civilian life in comparison to the rigid and clear cut environment of the military.
Even in schools, I find as a current university and former high school student that we very much live in these systemic bubbles when we are students. My biggest worries last quarter of my university were to get this project done, to get that project done, and these things would consume my mind to the point where any other worries would become negligible, the educational system provided and continues to provide a necessary focus for me - you don't really have time to worry about the fact that you are 14,906 kilometers (9262 miles) from home when that design project is due tomorrow.
But when the winter break rolled in, I was again met with an abundance of free time. I remember feeling an undeniable sense of discordance, so it was no surprise that I ventured again down the rabbit hole of chess and played in two tournaments. Of course, this was because of my love for the game, but on a more psychoanalytical level it was to achieve order among chaos, which was what my mind would have fallen into had I done nothing over my month and a half long winter break (isn’t that long?).
A great example of a mind consumed by chaos were my last two years of high school. These were arguably the worst two years of my life (so far hopefully). I could never properly adjust myself to fit into the system of the International Baccalaureate, refusing to accept that I had priorities that were very real. I would spend nights upon nights binge watching YouTube videos or playing hundreds of 1-minute chess games. The result? A rejection from all my universities. This is an ideal example of a mind in chaos, where even arguably the most rigorous high school education system (the International Baccalaureate) could not save it.
Who was to blame? Me and only me. But credit has to be given where credit is due, and the internet deserves a little credit.
The internet has certainly made us more susceptible to falling into our natural state of aimless cognitive meandering. I often have up to 20 tabs open, and switch constantly between them. If something is taking too long to open on my laptop, I pull out my phone and begin browsing various social media platforms. When you can switch from typing up that essay to watching a YouTube video in a couple of key strokes, then that's certainly opening up the door for cognitive disorganization.
The internet has no doubt changed the world for the better, but it has also magnified the already chaotic state of the human mind.
Games, jobs, duties - systems keep us busy and distracted from the chaotic complexity of life and our thoughts. Is this for the better? Well they have been what has allowed us to achieve what we have, so of course it is. But take a moment to appreciate the little things as well, like the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, the ages and backgrounds of the eclectic mix of individuals walking around Times Square, the way the sunlight shines through the canopy of the trees in the forest, but not too much - you still have work on Monday!
In the book, he proposes the concept that the human mind in its natural state is chaotic, meaning a jumble of thoughts and emotions. How many times have you been doing a certain activity and something completely unrelated to it just pops into your head? Our minds wander all the time, this is natural.
The human experience is complex to say the least, we have to deal with our own petty little problems while also accepting the infinite complexity and crushing indifference of the universe.
As a chess player, I can certainly apply my personal experience to this.
Chess provides a good limit of such complexities. By constraining our consciousness to 64 checkered squares, we can allow ourselves to forget about such things as the receding arctic sea ice, the fact that we may have to stop eating fish as they are consuming the plastic which we throw into the ocean, and how much the IRS will tax us. Chess has definite rules, and this helps to simplify and organize life for us. When I entered my gap year in 2016, I decided to occupy my overabundance of free time with chess, and that was ultimately for the better as I can’t imagine how my mind would’ve reacted to the overwhelming freedom and inactivity granted by a gap year.
But it’s not only chess which can provide a cognitive haven for people, we see it everyday in the systems which we operate in. The military is an ideal example, they bring order into people’s lives, and from what I know it is not uncommon for veterans to feel a sense of dissonance when they have to return to the aimless nature of civilian life in comparison to the rigid and clear cut environment of the military.
Even in schools, I find as a current university and former high school student that we very much live in these systemic bubbles when we are students. My biggest worries last quarter of my university were to get this project done, to get that project done, and these things would consume my mind to the point where any other worries would become negligible, the educational system provided and continues to provide a necessary focus for me - you don't really have time to worry about the fact that you are 14,906 kilometers (9262 miles) from home when that design project is due tomorrow.
But when the winter break rolled in, I was again met with an abundance of free time. I remember feeling an undeniable sense of discordance, so it was no surprise that I ventured again down the rabbit hole of chess and played in two tournaments. Of course, this was because of my love for the game, but on a more psychoanalytical level it was to achieve order among chaos, which was what my mind would have fallen into had I done nothing over my month and a half long winter break (isn’t that long?).
A great example of a mind consumed by chaos were my last two years of high school. These were arguably the worst two years of my life (so far hopefully). I could never properly adjust myself to fit into the system of the International Baccalaureate, refusing to accept that I had priorities that were very real. I would spend nights upon nights binge watching YouTube videos or playing hundreds of 1-minute chess games. The result? A rejection from all my universities. This is an ideal example of a mind in chaos, where even arguably the most rigorous high school education system (the International Baccalaureate) could not save it.
Who was to blame? Me and only me. But credit has to be given where credit is due, and the internet deserves a little credit.
The internet has certainly made us more susceptible to falling into our natural state of aimless cognitive meandering. I often have up to 20 tabs open, and switch constantly between them. If something is taking too long to open on my laptop, I pull out my phone and begin browsing various social media platforms. When you can switch from typing up that essay to watching a YouTube video in a couple of key strokes, then that's certainly opening up the door for cognitive disorganization.
The internet has no doubt changed the world for the better, but it has also magnified the already chaotic state of the human mind.
Games, jobs, duties - systems keep us busy and distracted from the chaotic complexity of life and our thoughts. Is this for the better? Well they have been what has allowed us to achieve what we have, so of course it is. But take a moment to appreciate the little things as well, like the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, the ages and backgrounds of the eclectic mix of individuals walking around Times Square, the way the sunlight shines through the canopy of the trees in the forest, but not too much - you still have work on Monday!
