Antidotes to Chaos: Thoughts From The Queens Gambit

Wesley Jon
3 min readNov 6, 2022

I recently watched The Queens Gambit on Netflix. An inspiring and wonderful show I highly recommend. In it, the protagonist and a chess prodigy, Beth Harmon (who happens to be an orphan), is interviewed by a magazine columnist who asks, “Why do you love chess so much?”

Then proceeds to assume, “Do you imagine you saw the king as a father and the queen as a mother, one to attack and one to protect?”

To which Beth responds. “They’re just pieces.”

“It was the board I noticed first.” But then Beth says one of my favorite lines of the entire show.

“It’s an entire world with just 64 squares. I feel safe in it. I can control it. I can dominate it. And it’s predictable, so if I get hurt, I only have myself to blame.”

To a certain extent, isn’t this what we’re all seeking? The ability to understand the game and realize the patterns, principles, and rules to success. Then try to dominate them. Of course, this is the goal in every game, but also a reflection on life. Personal improvement scratches the itch that chaos induces.

Our challenge is, life is so extensive and complex. It’s not as predictable or reliable as 64 squares. It is difficult to imagine understanding all the patterns and developing a consistent framework of principles that deals with those patterns successfully. Life is abstract and too overwhelming. This doesn’t sit well with a biological organism competent enough to seek meaningful existence. We extract a lot of meaning from progression and competency, two components that require something of structure and order.

Spontaneity and chaos might seem attractive from afar, but deep down, we know nothing meaningful and lasting comes from a life of them. They can be exciting in small doses, but structure provides long-term well-being. Our deepest nature desires stability. Religion provides it. It provides order to life, offering guidelines to achieve progression within the spiritual hierarchy. An organization like Alcoholics Anonymous does the same. It replaces chaos with twelve structured steps, using rules, order, and principles as an antidote.

Not all structure is good

Order and structure are only so valuable in the context that there is something meaningful to progress toward. Without a significant end to the means, order can feel invasive and structure confining. This is why an unfulfilling job may provide lots of structure but still feels like a prison.

The key is balance

Here’s the formula I think we all, to an extent, desire:

We need enough structure to experience progression towards personally meaningful objectives provided by a stable order of things but balanced by intervals of healthy spontaneity and chaos to keep things exciting.

I hold a personal opinion that at least one form of depression comes out of the imbalance between these variants. The average person’s life has skewed this formula. They are overburdened by the structured routine of a job they don’t deem meaningful, and then they release that tension with chaotic unhealthy habits outside of work. Drugs, overeating, Netflix, etc. People are stuck in the wrong form of structure and seek the release of a bad type of chaos. Add a strong dose of social media to that recipe, and depression, in my experience, seems to make a lot of sense.

What Can You Do Now?

The release of this tension comes from implementing, by yourself or through external aid, a framework that captures the essence of the above quote.

Enough structure to experience progression towards personally meaningful objectives provided by a stable order of things but balanced by intervals of healthy spontaneity and chaos to keep things exciting.

The bad news is life’s patterns, principles, and rules are not as simple as a chessboard to provide the necessary constraints for meaningful progress. The good news is there are many activities in life that will satisfy the desire. It’s just a matter of finding one that excites you enough to commit to its journey, like Beth did.

Good luck!

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Wesley Jon

I learn new things and then write about those new things. Sometimes I learn old things and also write about those old things.