Unchained From The System- How Chess Helped Me Find Myself

Table of contents

The Beginning
The Downturn
The Transition
The Crisis
The Tipping Point
The Coaching Journey
The Transformation
The Story Continues
Putting it all Together

The Beginning

The Sandia Mountains, with the sun rising in the distance, signal the beginning of our spiritual awakening.

"There is no greater calling than to serve." — Walter Reuther.

I had just gotten back home from school, and I'd never been so excited to help others improve their chess.
In September 2023, I received an offer to coach kids at Chess4Life. Compared to the loneliness of university, the chance to empower the next generation of chess players through life skills felt like a breath of fresh air. I was breathing it all in — impacting young minds, sharing my joy for chess, and helping others grow not just as players, but as people. I'm grateful for the opportunity and platform that Chess4Life provided. Their structured curriculum helped ten of my students break into the top 100 in the U.S. for their age groups. It was an environment filled with energy, purpose, and hope.

The Downturn

I Ching, also known as the Book of Changes, symbolizes the quote by Heraclitus.

"The one constant in life is change." — Heraclitus.
Unfortunately, as I progressed in the chess world, I began to realize that I was a victim of my own success. My students began outgrowing the very curriculum that had once inspired me. The structure that felt like home slowly became a ceiling. Some of my students were now Class A players, even winning medals at the 2024 North American Youth Championship. They were ready for more — and I wasn't sure if I could give it to them within the system I was in.
I needed new resources, new methods, and a new way to serve.

The Transition

Transitioning can take many forms, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes

"Most people want something until they discover what they have to sacrifice to achieve it." — GM Max Illingworth.

My coaching revolution began in March 2025. After feeling frustrated by many of my top students venturing into other pastures, I began to commit to changing my approach. I started treating lessons as art. Each Lichess study I created became a canvas; every puzzle, a brushstroke of creativity. What once was my form of earning money became my stage for self-expression. Much like Tkachiev hears conversations in the rhythm of moves, I began to see colors, patterns, and emotions with every detailed annotation I created. I studied works by great thinkers like GM Mauricio Flores Ríos and IMs Mark Dvoretsky and Arthur van de Oudeweetering — mentors through the page who helped me discover my voice as a teacher and player. My early missteps became lessons to help my students avoid the same pain.
For a time, it felt like everything was aligning until it wasn't.

The Crisis

Migrant Mother in Nipomo, California (1936), represents a moment of crisis. Photo Credit: Dorothea Lange

"Your playing small does not serve the world... As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously permit others to do the same." — Marianne Williamson.

I poured my heart into creating new lessons for the Chess4Life team — countless hours analyzing games, refining ideas, and designing resources to help advanced students thrive. I believed I was making a difference.
Except, it didn't matter. My ideas were ignored. Office politics and fixed mindset results overshadowed long-term growth. The apathy from coaches I once admired was disheartening. The students deserved better. Each day felt heavier, as if I were playing a lost position that no combination could save. I had become a pawn in someone else's system. My worth was measured by test scores and trophies, not by effort, creativity, or care.
It was the same emptiness I'd once felt in university — the quiet ache of doing work that no longer reflected who I was.

The tipping point

"We need to start choosing our problems... otherwise our brain will find them in ridiculous, obnoxious places." — Mark Manson.

Unresolved problems have a way of bleeding into every corner of your life. It was September 2025, and I was licking my wounds in Portugal after another disappointing tournament. During the Maia Open, after a painful sixth-round loss to FM Mathieu Ternault, I found myself doubting every move I made — on and off the board. I remember staring at the pieces long after the game ended. The silence was deafening. Then, clarity: something had to change. Right then, I told my parents, "I want Max." Not a friend or idol — but GM Max Illingworth, an Australian grandmaster whose writings on chess had deeply resonated with me. His philosophy was spiritual yet practical, grounded in principles that went beyond the board. As I began to reflect on the person I wanted to be, I realized he was the man who could change my life forever.
I reached out, and to my surprise, he said, "Absolutely."
In an instant, things began to change.

The Coaching Journey

We might never know where our journey takes us, as the winding road disappears in the distance.

"It's not the destination, it's the journey." — Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Working with GM Max has been a transformative experience. Leaving Chess4Life was terrifying. It meant stepping into uncertainty — less income, fewer guarantees — but more authenticity. During those first fragile weeks, Max was there for me completely. He didn't just teach chess. He shared ideas for my writing, helped refine my annotations, and offered guidance on overcoming the fears and doubts that come with sudden change. For the first time in years, I felt heard. Under Max's mentorship, I rediscovered confidence, patience, and emotional balance. Max didn't impose his methods; he empowered me to think for myself. Great coaches do that — they guide you toward independence, not dependence.
I began to see chess not just as a game, but as a form of personal liberation.

The Transformation

If you let go of your perceptions, the truth will set you free.

"Care what other people think and you will always be their prisoner." — Lao Tzu.

Today, I experienced a breakthrough that may change how I receive feedback — not just in chess, but in life as well.
When I told my coach I wanted to write about static imbalances, he told me to choose topics that could provide imagery. I was frustrated at first, feeling the same rejection and betrayal that I did at Chess4Life. However, recalling Max Illingworth's posts reminded me of his deeper purpose. For Max, giving me suggestions wasn't about dampening my self-confidence; it was about empowering me to become the best version of myself.

In that moment, I realized I was still healing from the wounds of university and Chess4Life — the times I felt unseen or undervalued. As I grappled with my past trauma that once stained my ability to heal, I realized that growing into the man I am now wasn't a matter of erasing my past; rather, it was acknowledging what happened and becoming stronger because of it.

That insight mirrored the theme of one of my favorite games — Aravindh vs. Naroditsky — where both players turned adversity into an opportunity for growth. From chaos came clarity; from struggle, mastery. I'm grateful for those struggles now. They gave me empathy — a deeper understanding of my students' battles in their own improvement journey.
Every painful memory became part of my legacy, shaping my values as a model that parents would want their kids to be influenced by.

The Story Continues

The Yin-Yang symbol represents balance, freedom, and a peaceful state where we are in perfect harmony with ourselves.

So here's to the next chapter — one filled with authenticity, creativity, and freedom. Growth isn't linear. It's the courage to face your contradictions, to keep showing up, and to trust that even lost positions can transform with the right touch of imagination. To every player, coach, and dreamer still finding their way across the board: you're not alone. Now, let's bookend this reflection with a game that captures that spirit — co-annotated by me and my fantastic coach, GM Max Illingworth. It's a deep, colorful dive into Aravindh–Naroditsky, a masterpiece of resilience and creativity. I hope our shared insights inspire you to see your own games — and maybe even your own struggles — in a new light.

Because you don't need to understand everything in a game to learn something profound from it.

Putting it all Together

What are some of the insights you gleaned from this game?

Any specific moves or ideas that made an impression on you?

Here's a summary of the main takeaways from the game:
1. To do anything well, whether it be in chess or in life, we must be in harmony with ourselves.

Why It's Important: The key to this game was the balance between dynamics and statics, and their way of interacting with one another. We notice a similar duality of happiness and sorrow in our lives - both embolden us, empower us, and shape who we are.

2. When the sound around you gets too loud, tap into your spirituality.

Why It's Important: During a chess game, we are faced with numerous emotions that can turn us upside down. The key in these moments is staying true to yourself, trusting the process and those around you, and letting your body flow in a direction that allows you to bring out the best in you.

3. Our success and fame come and go, but friends and family are forever

Why It's Important: Without GM Max Illingworth's help, I'd have overlooked the pure beauty of this game. Seeing beyond the moves and absorbing the more profound meaning that transcends the game of chess. When you need help, ask for it. You're never alone.

Thanks for reading! We'll be back next time with another game analysis, making complex Grandmaster games understandable and instructive. For most of the lessons in a game lie in the variations, and it's my honour to discover those lessons and share them with you.

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Special thanks go to my friends, family, and my beloved coach, @Craze, all of whom helped me navigate some of the most tumultuous paths of my life.