PIECE BY PIECE
I’m trying to figure out what it is about solving puzzles that is so rewarding and comforting right now. I have several creative projects I could be working on e.g., a commissioned essay and a new novel, and an idea for an online workshop, which one would think ideal to be engaged in now, when everything is suspended, postponed, cancelled or otherwise not happening. Instead I find myself frittering away a good portion of time totally addicted to puzzles, be it the NY Times crossword, its spelling bee and tiles, or a 500 piece jigsaw that a nearby friend dropped off on my doorstep along with the groceries.
When I saw the box, with its ridiculously corny image of a world we never had never mind now have lost, I felt like a kid on Christmas morning and spent the next two days totally absorbed in putting it together. So what is it about puzzle solving that is so satisfying at a time like this?
Certainly there is a meditative quality to this endeavor. Unlike meditation itself where the aim is to let go of thoughts (something I find impossible, uncomfortable and frankly a form of insanity as in why the hell do I want to sit on a cushion for 30 minutes experiencing the relentless mayhem of my mind. Apologies to all of you who partake of this practice as indeed I am in awe of you). So, as I was saying, when engaged in solving a crossword the mind is focused solely on the clue and its answer. There is no room for other thought. And there is the certainty that every clue has an answer, which at a time when we no longer have answers to anything is particularly comforting. Plus there is the Eureka moment upon entering “set at ease,” in answer to the clue “reassure.” The comfort of actually knowing something and getting it right.
But surely it is the jigsaw puzzle that reigns supreme. From that daunting moment when you tip all the pieces out, to the sorting all the edges and the feeling of relief when those edges find all their interlocking neighbours, thereby make a frame. How we would all love to be able to put a frame around this virus and contain it. Somehow when the frame of a puzzle is complete, the rest suddenly feels manageable, even in those moments when you are desperately searching for a piece and are sure that the manufacturer forgot to include it. Panic! Then when you do find it a sense of righteous accomplishment ensues. And how amazing is it that every single piece of the puzzle is completely unique? That vast expanse of blue where each piece is its own molecule and, in spite of its uniqueness, happily interlocks with its neighbor.
We are all, now, individual pieces of a global puzzle; we are the sky the sea, the gull, the rocks and every leaf on every tree. We are the stricken, the grieving, the frightened and the lonely and, unlike the jigsaw puzzle, we are currently unable to physically interlock with our neighbours, but we are still all part of the whole. We may not be able link arms, but we are totally connected and we must stay that way.
There were times during the assemblage of this puzzle when I felt overwhelmed, inadequate to the task, even hopeless. Then I’d think about all those on the front lines, the doctors and nurses and key workers who are keeping us alive and how they’d give anything to be home doing a jigsaw. And it was during those times when I thought of others that I realized why doing the jigsaw puzzle is so enticing: it provides a respite from thinking. There is nothing to think about or solve except finding another piece to slot into its rightful place.
When I came down to the last six pieces I was convinced something was wrong, that there was no way there were enough of them or that they would fit together. It feels a lot like that these days, doesn’t it? That there aren’t enough masks or ventilators or beds or doctors. For many not even enough food. And that maybe there are people who don’t want to become part of the solution.
When I slotted the last piece in I felt victorious. I ran my hand over the surface, which felt both smooth and bumpy. I looked at the image and entered its perfection for a moment. The sense of completion, of something finished, was profound. Then I broke it all apart and put it back in its box.
We may feel broken apart right now, we may feel shut away in our boxes, but those of us who survive this will have the chance to build a new world, coming together in all our uniqueness to form something whole and wondrous. I believe there are more of us that want this than don’t, and it will be up to us to organize ourselves, community by community, nation by nation in order to become one voice that will have to be heard by those who have pretended to govern us until now.
Of course there will be those who don’t want to join our desire for a better reality. Let’s not call them the misfits. Let’s view them as another puzzle to be solved, with kindness and compassion and the belief that there is a place for everyone.
Until next time, here is a poem sent to me by a friend. It seems most fitting.
Stay well, stay strong,
With love,
Maggie
