I go about looking for the best kind of puzzles available. They apparently help prevent Alzheimer's, improves concentration and makes me a great parent. I find the perfect puzzle, fitting all the criteria that I had in mind. I lovingly bring it home and painstakingly put it together. After it has been displayed for a socially acceptable period, it gets packed up.
I take it out at a later date and put it together again, since it's apparently not a one shot activity. One of the pieces is now missing. I spend enough time doing the puzzle while giving the missing piece the benefit of doubt. After some more of the 'enough' time, I realise that it is indeed lost. I get mad at the world and mad at puzzle pieces that grow legs and decide to walk to the darkest corner under the sofa to rest in piece.Then the 'Patience forward' that I had gotten the day before flashes before my eyes and I feel quite foolish for this sudden burst of internal frustration. Then I remember the 'Perseverance forward' and get a broom to fish the puzzle piece out no matter where it is.
While on my hands and knees, I can't help but compare my life to the box of puzzles. Every piece unique, every piece interlocking perfectly with the others around it, but still fragile and sensitive at the same time. The harmonious puzzle picture of life, created by me with time, love and hard work. I smile to myself, basking at my poetic brilliance, and then I remember the missing piece and how that represents my inadequacies as a human being.
I crawl back into bed feeling defeated. After I spend some respectable time moaning my lost piece of life, I chuck the whole puzzle out and decide to go the blocks way. I am a blocks gal all and all. Not the tiny Lego pieces which you have to use with tweezers and a comprehensive step by step guide, but the big old wooden blocks. They improve creativity, fine motor skills and best of all, I don't notice the blocks that decide to occasionally take a stroll around the house (or garden for that matter). All is well and if it isn't I'm sure I'll get a message saying that it is.
I take it out at a later date and put it together again, since it's apparently not a one shot activity. One of the pieces is now missing. I spend enough time doing the puzzle while giving the missing piece the benefit of doubt. After some more of the 'enough' time, I realise that it is indeed lost. I get mad at the world and mad at puzzle pieces that grow legs and decide to walk to the darkest corner under the sofa to rest in piece.Then the 'Patience forward' that I had gotten the day before flashes before my eyes and I feel quite foolish for this sudden burst of internal frustration. Then I remember the 'Perseverance forward' and get a broom to fish the puzzle piece out no matter where it is.
While on my hands and knees, I can't help but compare my life to the box of puzzles. Every piece unique, every piece interlocking perfectly with the others around it, but still fragile and sensitive at the same time. The harmonious puzzle picture of life, created by me with time, love and hard work. I smile to myself, basking at my poetic brilliance, and then I remember the missing piece and how that represents my inadequacies as a human being.
I crawl back into bed feeling defeated. After I spend some respectable time moaning my lost piece of life, I chuck the whole puzzle out and decide to go the blocks way. I am a blocks gal all and all. Not the tiny Lego pieces which you have to use with tweezers and a comprehensive step by step guide, but the big old wooden blocks. They improve creativity, fine motor skills and best of all, I don't notice the blocks that decide to occasionally take a stroll around the house (or garden for that matter). All is well and if it isn't I'm sure I'll get a message saying that it is.
All is well!! :)
ReplyDeleteIndeed Indeed.
Delete:) metaphor puzzle pieces= life ....lovely.
ReplyDeleteThank you Savita. :-)
DeleteSome people write philosophy with phrases like "imprescriptible rights of the human individual", "lack of agency", "pathos and meaningless of everyday existence", "solpsistic advocacy of subconscious exploitation" These idiots get Nobel prizes and are their books are taught in philosophy classes, thus warning all happy sensible people to avoid them like the plague.
ReplyDeleteJig saws and missing pieces, fit right into the Panchatantra, Aesop category. Fantastic!
LOL. Thanks Gopu. Where do you think I get my inspiration from.......
Delete