Chessboard

An Acceptance and Commitment Metaphor

Imagine a chessboard that goes out infinitely in all directions. Itʼs covered with

black pieces and white pieces. They work together in teams, as in chess — the white

pieces fight against the black pieces. You can think of your thoughts and feelings and

beliefs as these pieces; they sort of hang out together in teams too. For example “bad”

feelings (like anxiety, depression, resentment) hang out with “bad” thoughts and “bad”

memories. Same thing with the “good” ones. So it seems that the way the way the game

is played is that we select the side we want to win. We put the “good” pieces (Like

thoughts that are self-confident, feelings of being in control, etc) on one side, and the

“bad” pieces on the other. Then we get up on the back of the black horse and ride to

battle, fighting to win the war against anxiety, depression, thoughts about using drugs,

whatever. Itʼs a war game. But thereʼs a logical problem here, and that is that from this

posture huge portions of yourself are your own enemy. In other words, if you need to be

in this war, there is something wrong with you. And because it appears that youʼre on

the same level as these pieces, they can be as big or even bigger than you are — even

though these pieces are in you.

So somehow, even though it is not logical, the more you fight the bigger they get.

If it is true that “if you are not willing to have it, youʼve got it, “ then as you fight these

pieces they become more central to your life, more habitual, more dominating, and

more linked to every area of living. The logical idea is that you will knock enough of

them off the board that you eventually dominate them — except that your experience

tells you that the exact opposite happens. Apparently, the white pieces canʼt be

deliberately knocked off the board. (Variations: There are an infinite number of pieces in

this game. There will always be another game.) So the battle goes on. You feel

hopeless, you have a sense that you canʼt win, and yet you canʼt stop fighting. If yourʼe

on the back of that black horse, fighting is the only choice you have, because the while

pieces seem life threatening. Yet living in a war zone is no way to live.

Now let me ask you to think about this carefully. In this metaphor, suppose you

arenʼt the chess pieces. Who are you? (Am I the player?) That may be what you

have been trying to be. Notice, though, that a player has a big investment in how this

war turns out. Besides, who are you playing against? Some other player? Suppose

youʼre not that either. (Am I the board?)

Itʼs useful to look at it that way. Without a board, these pieces have no place to be.

The board holds them. For instance, what would happen if you werenʼt there to be

aware that you thought them? The pieces need you. They cannot exist without you —

but you contain them, they donʼt contain you. Notice that if you are the pieces, the game

is very important; youʼve got to win, your life depends on it. But if youʼre the board, it

doesnʼt matter whether the war stops or not. The game may go on, but it doesnʼt make

any difference to the board. As the board, you can see all the pieces, you can hold

them, you are in intimate contact with them; you can watch the war being played out in your

consciousness but it doesnʼt matter.