Beyond Checkered Squares

Don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your own soul according to fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly – Frank Kafka

The last line of Kafka’s quote on following your most intense obsessions mercilessly floors me. For one, obsessions are innately fierce, but your most intense obsessions? Adding fire to fire? And erupting like a volcano by following this intense obsession mercilessly? Whew!

Kafka has me in a chokehold with this quote, and I must admit my guilt in following one wayward obsession – Chess. I have followed this beautiful game much so that even my shadows, past, present and future linger over the chessboard, making their own moves.

Pridefully, Chess has been my biggest obsession. I may wear other hats, but this squared hat has stayed firmly planted on my head for the longest time.

I am a curious Aquarius, always thirsting and wandering, and this has drawn me into being an avid book lover and reader, exposing me to the philosophies and teachings of C.S. Lewis, Soren Kierkegaard, Baruch Spinoza, and Carl Jung, to name a few. I also love music, a language I am still learning to speak. Maybe someday, these hands will emotively express the words I fail to speak on the piano, letting Debussy’s Claire de Lune pour like liquid moonlight from my fingers.

Top that musical aspiration with an addictive flirting with poetry. Robert Frost’s ‘The Road Not Taken” remains my gateway to the endless exploration of poetic muses.

On some other days, movies keep me bubbly, but I am undecided who is more theatrical between James St Patrick in ‘Power’ or Franklin Saint in ‘Snowfall’.

I digress.

These ramblings, I reckon, may have wearied Caissa (the goddess of Chess), but I hope they haven’t done the same to you.

Dearest Caissa,

While I lay at risk of being a hopeless bore to you, forgive me, for I know you to be a most jealous mistress. I hope this time you may permit me to delve into some subvariations and sidelines on my inkless thoughts on our dear noble game - Chess, books, movies, philosophy and life. For after all, Chess is life, no?

Caissa and my Cartography of Change

No map prepares you for your own transformation.

I am still hungover on culture shock, but I’m finding sanity by getting lost in the assemblage of my books from Barnes and Noble Publishing House.

Sheltered at the sometimes quiet and mostly bubbly ambience of 5th Avenue, NYC, my companions are a tablet, a head full of dreams, a hot chocolate drink, and a croissant, pondering which book to disappear into. I am spoilt for choice, deciding between fiction and non-fiction to guide me in the dystopia around me. But this is not a dystopian story, it’s one of stoic faith in my chosen path.

Slowly, unsteadily, but surely, I’m moving. Progress is not as linear as we’d like it to be; it’s not in the peaks we reach, but in the valleys we overcome. Following the concept of ‘percentage attainment’, it’s better to look at the opportunities you have and set realistic goals based on what you can achieve, rather than waiting around for a once-in-a-lifetime chance like winning the lottery and doing nothing in the meantime. I keep the ball rolling.

They say fishing is best where the fewest go, so I dared to walk such lonely roads. The East Coast has now become the destination of my fishing boat. I carry with me the same nets of dreams and ambition in this big sea of life and masked opportunities. Now, I’m reminiscent of a page from an old diary where I scribbled a wild vision: to travel to 64 countries of the world to play Chess professionally. I did not think the universe was stealing peeks into my diary, and alas, here I am in one of the best places in the world to ever be – The U.S. Now I have some 50 states to visit. Wow!

Living in the fast-paced city of New York often overwhelms me with its unrelenting pace and unfamiliar rhythm. Even if I had a personal AI (my imagined personal AI, I like to call AyoZer0), my itinerary remains disorganized. But I tell myself this, it’s only through lived moments and wisdom of missteps that clarity begins to form, and slowly the chaos begins to fold into experience.

New York City is super-fast with bright lights, subway trains, people from all walks of life, diverse cultures, and global food and cuisine. It’s just a lot to catch up on, but I am coping just fine with the nice delicacies.

The Labyrinth of Mastery

Mastery is the ultimate status.

Recently, I enjoyed watching the movie Jiro dreams of Sushi. He says ‘Never complain about your job.’ You must dedicate your life to mastering your skill. I agree with Jiro.

Mastery is the best goal to achieve; the rich cannot buy it, the impatient cannot rush it, the privileged cannot inherit it, and nobody can steal it. You can only earn it through hard work.

I am a Chess master, and I have been so engrossed in the dream of attaining the Grandmaster title, only to realize that the harder game is off the chessboard. Life, after all, is the ultimate checkmate. Touche! It’s one thing to win on the chessboard, and even bigger is winning in life.

I once moved pieces on a chessboard, chasing checkmates. Now, I’ve moved 5,352 miles from my hometown to the Western world, driven by a head full of visions and dreams, searching for purpose and meaning. The game has changed; I’m no longer playing just against opponents across the chessboard, but also against myself in the greater game called life.

America is the land of opportunity, a place where anyone, regardless of origin or background, can achieve success. But for me, an immigrant with extraordinary talent, the American Dream didn’t come handed freely; it arrived with a manual written in hard work, sacrifice, relentless drive, and tough trade-offs. And yet, here I am, already living that dream.

For the first time, my vision and ambition sync in perfect harmony, no doubts, no limits. The possibilities are electrifying, revealing Chess’s greatest gifts waiting beyond the board. And in this moment, a quiet voice reminds me, Relax, you’re just getting started.

I am also reminded that none of these would have happened without my many years of grinding, failed attempts, and refusing to quit, all while keeping mastery at my fore.

Yoruba Man in New York

In this moment, I embrace the dogged spirit of my Nigerian blood, the absolute grit to not just stay afloat, but to surge ahead, to excel, the sheer confidence that thrives even without eloquence, but is built on nothing but raw and relentless belief.

Many things in New York City have blown me away, like the subway trains—trains that move under the streets and people’s houses. In all of my life in Nigeria, I have seen nothing like it. This experience was just as shocking as learning about the move En passant in Chess. How is this even possible?

I have now been exposed to so many things that I never would have experienced, and this has kept my mind open to innovation and thrown away the locks of mental limitation.

I love New York City because I get to see people from all walks of life, either playing Chess, reading, hurrying somewhere or chit-chatting in the parks, stations, and street halls with their accents, aura and steeze.

A friend once asked me if I would rather endure the extreme cold here or attain some sort of balance, like what it is we have back in Nigeria. At the time, I did not quite have an answer. But would I have it any way else? No. This is the dream forged by my own hands.

Unlike the rainy or dry weather I was born to, it’s four seasons here, from summer to spring, autumn and winter. Summertime is fine, but winter for me is scary. I don’t have the Ned Stark gene or bloodline, nor am I a lord in Winterfell. Grabs a jacket.

I also remember one time on 42nd Street, Bryant Park, I was thirsty and wanted to buy water, the Deli lady didn’t understand what I wanted, apparently water is pronounced ‘wa-der’. My Yoruba/Nigerian tongue had the best of me. Oh well, such accuracy is for God, but for us humans, all is ‘wabi sabi’ (the art of honoring the beauty in imperfection).

For me, wabi sabi is a character skill, and over time, it has given me the discipline to shift my attention from impossible ideas to achievable standards, and I got this far by being a self-starter.

As a self-starter, I’m drawn to big challenges, bold moves, and the audacity to reinvent myself at any moment, embracing both the pain and the growth that come with starting over in a new country, from rebuilding a social circle to redefining my path. In the end, it all comes down to time and patience.

The Continuum of Time and Space

Time and Space, the two most underrated terms in Chess and life. Time refers to your ability to make moves without defending, while space refers to the squares you control and piece mobility.

In life, the alignment of time and space emerges when you're given the chance to chase what truly calls you, to stretch your limits and step into the realm of possibilities. I can’t say how far these inkless ramblings of mine will go in igniting your dreams, but if they stir even a flicker, then I am most fulfilled. All I can say is that exercising grit while maintaining a vision is an uncanny skill.

Often, it’s not a grand vision we lack, it’s the discipline of envisioning. Visions may come freely, but the hustle is a different currency, earned through effort and persistence, slowly taking shape over time.

The Journey to Awakening

My name is Abimbola Ayo Osunfuyi, but I also go by many names, all birthed by my exploits in Chess – Once called Young GM, Tigran Spinoza, OATS, Beast of Lagos, and some other names that aren’t fancy for this blog. For me, chess is a hobby, a profession, and a way of life. Sometimes I wonder what my life might have been if I hadn’t become enamored with Chess. Maybe I would have drifted toward darker paths in search of meaning, or maybe I would’ve built something meaningful for the world. I suppose we’ll never truly know.

There comes a chapter in every human life characterized by loneliness, an uncertain stretch where the future feels like a fog, your surroundings grow stifling, and mediocrity becomes unbearable. You stop conforming. You begin to aim higher, gripped by an inexplicable vision of something far greater than "good." It's not just hope, it’s a fire in your mind, an unshakable pull toward something more. What is this? What’s happening? Congratulations! You’ve just unlocked your Neo moment, an awakening.

They say life is like binary code, made of 0’s and 1’s, but who will be your Morpheus and Trinity, guiding you to unlock the door of greatness with a higher perspective on life?

Over time, I’ve been on a steady diet of self-reflection, fueled by a surge of relentless confidence, constantly shedding the mediocre traits that no longer align with my pursuits.

One rule when setting out on a journey: Never take advice from those who’ve never left home. Every choice in life comes with trade-offs; no matter how rewarding the outcome, there's always a hidden cost or pain to carry. I’m wary of anyone who denies that. The truth is, most advice is too personal to be universally useful. It often falls into the "specificity trap," where what worked for one person won't necessarily work for another. Your world is different from theirs. As Sahil Bloom wisely said, ‘the best advice offers principles, ideas, and frameworks, not rigid steps.’ So, shape and leverage them in a way that fits your path.

Motion and Growth

Walking an uncharted path is daunting, especially when it means moving to a new country far beyond your comfort zone. You lack the experience and expertise that brings confidence, you don’t know where to start, and even the advice from those who’ve taken a similar path often falls short, not out of malice, but because many people live without deeply examining their journey or understanding their own processes.

Sometimes, it’s the overwhelming number of options that paralyzes you. Other times, it's fear. The fear of not being accepted, of running out of money, of ending up homeless if things go wrong. But when all is said and done, the hardest part is deciding to act.

I didn’t have all the answers, I still don’t, but I chose movement over stagnation. Mine was a curious case, a leap of faith, yes, but not the kind that begins before you're ready. That approach rarely worked for me. What has worked, almost without fail, is showing up with a massive pre-cultivated edge and deep preparation long before the moment arrived.

I left Nigeria in the summer of 2023 to compete at the 51st Annual World Opens in Philadelphia. I travelled solo across the Atlantic with just my chessboard, books, and travel documents, inhaling the petrichor of Paris one moment and feeling the summer breeze of New York next. A journey I’ll never forget!

My Chess tournament in Philly wasn’t particularly eventful in terms of results, but it gifted me something far more lasting: new friendships and a glimpse into the vibrant Chess culture of the U.S. I have to admit, American Chess has the best community in the world. After my tournament, I visited the legendary Marshall Chess Club in New York City. Walking into the summer camp run by the Impact Coaching Network gave me a dual perspective, one that deepened my understanding of both life on the chessboard and life beyond it.

Have you ever seen a group of kids playing chess with real passion? I’ve only witnessed that kind of energy at football or basketball camps, yet here I was, in a summer Chess camp, watching it unfold.

As a Chess master, I’d been living my life freely in the game, but this experience was something new. It was a novelty! From that day, something was birth in me, and it continues to this day, and I will always be grateful for this experience.

A thought written is a story unborn.

From one seeker to another—until we meet again, stay curious.