Projection

Our chess club meets in a large hospital cafeteria. It's a great venue: bright, never crowded, with an especially quiet corner perfect for us.

Polished to a high gloss, a chestnut-colored grand piano sits in the opposite corner, surveying the institutional tables and chairs and silently asserting its superiority.

Most nights it is silent, or if it gets played, it's by a kid who has escaped his parents and is pounding out "Mary Had A Little Lamb" or "Chopsticks."

But last night as I sat in our corner, huddled over the chessboard, the strains of Liszt's "Liebestraum" gently diverted my mind from the game. I immediately recognized the piece, and though it was not the most complicated arrangement, it was nonetheless played with skill.

I looked aside to see who was playing, but my vision was blocked. I went back to my chess game, and as it progressed, I heard other, less weighty pieces - Joplin's "Entertainer," the Peanuts theme, and one or two others.

Soon the chess game simplified into an easy win, but since my opponent didn't resign, the game continued. My mind wandered back to the music, and to the player. I found myself inventing a persona for this man or woman. Passionate yet kind, methodical yet inventive, hardworking yet relaxed.

Before I knew it I had projected an image of an impossibly perfect personality, all because this person could play beautiful music.

I saw who was playing when the music stopped and a Latino man wearing scrubs walked into view. One of the cafeteria workers chided him for stopping, and he said he'd love to keep playing but he had to get back to work.

A part of me was disappointed that the player wasn't a eligible and attractive young lady. Perhaps because he wasn't, I was left to realize what I'd just done.

It happens all the time. We see an attractive person and give them all kinds of good qualities - maybe kindness or generosity, but above all, a depth and complexity that we deny to plain folk.

In this case the bias was similar. I assumed that someone who produced beautiful music had a beautiful soul.

I'd like to believe that he does. I want to believe that everyone who makes something beautiful has something beautiful in them. I'd like to believe that the beauty of Bobby Fischer's chess redeems him somehow. I want to believe that every brilliant artist or powerful genius has a great soul.

And I'm afraid it isn't always so.