Every end leads to a new beginning
Reflections on the previous decade and projections of the next
I was never any good at chess.
I knew all the rules, learned how all the pieces moved, and even knew about castling. Heck, I even went to a chess camp one summer. But I could never get a hang of the game.
The reason? I am terrible at looking ahead. The best chess players can plan their moves 20 steps ahead and anticipate what their opponents will do along the same time scale. Then, with new information, they are constantly updating their projections and planning their 10th-next move. This is a skill I could never figure out.
Planning ahead in chess comes with practice and study, two actions I never undertook learning chess. But there’s also some innate skill in it. Magnus Carlsen, arguably the best chess player ever, didn’t become a grandmaster at 13 simply because he practiced and studied more than everyone else. It was partly because he was born to play chess, born with the skill of looking ahead.
As we reach the last few days of the 2010s, basically every website has taken time to reflect on the decade. Decade end lists are everywhere right now, from your Spotify feed to the New York Times. Unlike chess players, however, very few have taken the time to look ahead to the 2020s and project what might be. Probably because the last ten years have been so unpredictable, but that is beside the point.
Thus, it’s time for me to look back at the last ten years as well (not The Last Five Years, that’s a musical). One theme I found about the 2010s is that I was always going toward some clear goal. Starting in 2011, I had concrete four (or five) year plans. From 2011–15, I focused on graduating from high school and choosing a college for undergraduate study. I also needed to settle on a major/career path to inform the college choice. I didn’t know where I would end up, but I knew that come August 2015, I would be enrolled at a university. Every year I progressed closer to the end of high school, from freshman to sophomore to junior to senior. At each grade level, I knew how many more years I had left and what to look forward to at the next level. For instance, as a sophomore, I anticipated assuming leadership positions over the next two years in the various activities I participated in.
Then, from 2015–19, my focus shifted to graduating from Case Western Reserve University and securing a job. Again, I didn’t know the specifics, but I knew that at the end of my undergraduate career, I would have a diploma and a job. Similarly to high school, I progressed through the levels of education, from a new student to a graduating senior. And in a similar way, I progressed through my clubs and organizations. As a sports reporter in my first year, I knew that the sports editor position was in my future. As an editor, I could see that one day I would lead the newspaper in my final year.
While things turned out a little differently as an undergraduate than I expected and I needed to take an extra year due to work, I still had the final goal of graduation hanging over me. Each year I could look forward to the next, knowing where I would be and a general idea of what to expect.
Now, as we wrap up the 2010s, I’m in a position I’ve yet to experience in my short lifespan. I achieved my goals. I earned my degree and have a job. But now, I have no expectations. I have no four-year plan. I only have the limitless future of the dreaded “real world” and the rest of my life. While others have planned for this moment and the next segment of their lives for years, I have yet to even begin.
And this brings me back to chess. As a new decade rolls around, I’m as unfamiliar with my future as I am with the next three moves on the chessboard. While 10 years ago I could project with some certainty where would be now, I have no idea where I’ll be at the end of the 2020s. I’ll be 32 years old. Just typing that makes it seem so far away. And, in a sense, it is. The last decade was nearly half my life so far. The next decade will be another third of it. Time passes, as sure as anything.
So, I don’t think I will even bother trying to predict where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing at the end of the next decade. Should I have some semblance of a long-term plan? Probably. Will I start planning it now? Not at all.
Maybe, I’ll try to get better at chess.
