Dropping the Ballast

The concept of losing can be understood as a form of preparation for the future. Although it is almost automatically associated with something negative, it is, in reality, an ongoing process, present in everything from our biology and bodily functions to the natural cycles of life in the human, animal, plant, and mineral realms. The well-known phrase “nothing is lost, everything is transformed” applies perfectly in this context.

But who decided, and when, that losing is always a bad thing? In the balance of existence, this belief has seeped into popular mythology—the idea that one must always win and avoid loss at all costs.

If we are speaking of material matters, particularly commerce and trade, there are clear laws and rules that define gain and loss, and they serve a valid function. Common sense, along with personal and collective experience, confirms the practicality of this perspective.

Yet, time and again, we see how the apparent solidity of these principles is challenged by reality. Events unfold that contradict our assumptions: natural disasters wipe away in seconds what took decades to build; an unforeseen illness erases in months the life and plans of a thriving industrialist; a pandemic brings entire economic structures to a halt for years.

On an internal level, loss is also a constant occurrence, making space for renewal—whether through cellular regeneration at the microscopic level or the acquisition of deeper truths that sometimes overturn beliefs we once held as certain.

The Universe is abundant, filled with goodness, beauty, and majesty. That is why it is referred to as the All. Yet we do not perceive it in its entirety; our limited awareness allows us to see only a fragment of this vast Whole. More often than not, we focus on what appears to be missing, rather than what is present. This distortion leads us to project our personal limitations onto the grandeur of the Universe, unjustly diminishing it. The Universe, however, remains untouched by this misperception, watching with patience and compassion, waiting for us to awaken and recognize reality beyond our self-imposed blindness.

One of the many benefits of playing Quaternity is the gradual realization that losing is a natural and necessary phenomenon for growth and evolution. Progress is impossible without accepting loss and incorporating it into our experience with openness.

This process of losing induces a valuable form of stupefaction—a breaking down of false certainties, which are often the real obstacles preventing deeper understanding. The structure of the game places the player in paradoxical situations that seem to defy resolution. Without guidance, one might see this as a frustrating dead end. But as we have been wisely reminded, “the straight path is the middle of the paradox.”

With practice, improving one’s ability to play reduces uncertainty. Certain patterns become familiar, some variables can be anticipated, and specific errors can be avoided. Yet, despite this improvement, the game seems designed to induce, at least at certain levels, a sense of bewilderment.

I vividly recall countless moments when I was checkmated and left astonished, unable to comprehend what had just happened or where the decisive move had come from. It can perhaps be compared to a boxer receiving a knockout blow—suddenly destabilized and disoriented by a force that puts him in his place.

This “where did that come from?” sensation is characteristic of Quaternity, as the board’s complexity makes it difficult to perceive everything at once. Especially toward the end of the game, when fewer pieces remain and are scattered across the board in an apparently chaotic manner, a checkmate can arrive suddenly and from an unexpected angle, offering no time for preparation.

This inability to see everything at once serves as a humbling reminder of the mind’s limitations. More precisely, it is a lesson for the left hemisphere of the brain—the “emissary” in Iain McGilchrist’s terms, from The Master and His Emissary.

In this process of recognition, the emissary re-learns what it had temporarily forgotten: that it is merely an agent, functioning in the service of the master, who, by definition, perceives more comprehensively.

The development of traditional chess, as well as similar activities that predominantly stimulate rational thinking, was necessary at a certain stage of human evolution. It provided essential training for the emissary—strengthening the intellect, refining logic, and sharpening analytical skills. This was a required adaptation, preparing the mind for its role. As the following excerpt explains…

“...Certain promising races of pre-men became inexplicably extinct, and it has been ventured that this occurred because they were unable to adapt to the intellect — to them an incomprehensible and ungovernable experience. Similarly, a function that gives access to a four-dimensional world can be equally disastrous for a Modern Man based on the intellect”.

The People of the Secret. E. Scott

With the advent of Quaternity came a new challenge: to transcend the purely rational mind and strive for a higher, more complete form of cognition.

This game is not only a tool to facilitate this transition toward a new way of perceiving reality, but it also reflects a larger shift unfolding both within our habitat and in the Cosmos itself. It is likely not the only instrument—there may be many paths, but the destination remains the same. Change is inevitable, for the alternative is bleak: stagnation, extinction, or subjugation to lower forces that resist this transformation.

Letting go of the old, familiar ways of thinking—the “this doesn’t make sense” mentality—is not easy. These ingrained patterns keep us tethered to a limited and outdated perception. It requires subtle yet deliberate effort, a conscious perseverance in practices that help foster this vital opening.

“At every stage man has to abandon the safe, the reliable, and —for his present moment— the most advanced. At every stage he has to struggle with the negative force of inertia. He has to overcome a mental obstacle just as he once had to overcome biological obstacles. If he succeeds, he learns more, understands more, comes nearer to participation”.

The People of the Secret. E. Scott

Losing, then, is an essential part of shedding the accumulated rust that prevents true seeing—a necessary process of stripping away illusions in order to pierce the veils that separate us from the subtler realms within. The mind alone cannot fully grasp Quaternity, nor the laws that govern its structure, nor the plural dynamics that define it. The mind must assume its proper role as the emissary and allow the master—the deeper, intuitive faculties represented by the right hemisphere—to take over, as was always intended.

In this way, Quaternity serves as a restorer of a function that is essential to human development and future evolution. This is no small matter.

“...Thus, we suggest that you use your non-literal mental apparatus and train yourself to become comfortable with illogical, irrational, or “absurd” paradigms or narratives of thought. This is how many “teaching stories” are presented in a seemingly illogical and/or irrational manner, so that they are not immediately picked up and assimilated by the dominant structure of your mental programming”.

Own your Sovereignty. K.S.Perl

This training gradually grants access to a form of inner freedom. It becomes a working tool that, alongside other inner practices, aids in the activation and refinement of the inner organs of perception.

Let us play, then, without being discouraged by losses. Let us see them as ballast in a hot air balloon—each one released allows us to rise higher, lifting us closer to new horizons.

♛♔