Life Lessons and Jigsaw Puzzles

It seems that throughout my life when anything terrible happened, people have tried to comfort me with words like “things always happen for a reason.” While these words can bring a sense of calm by reassuring people the world is not random, I have never found comfort in this idea. I honestly can’t believe there is a reason why a young person gets seriously ill or why certain people have extraordinarily challenging lives. While I choose not to believe in this sentiment, I do believe there are lessons to be learned from everything that happens. When we learn those lessons, we honor the experiences we have in a profound way and we ensure they didn’t happen in vain.

 

This past year, we have all had experiences we would have preferred not to have, and I believe there are lessons to be learned from each. During this seemingly endless time at home, there have also been bright spots – time to reflect on what we hold dear or new skills and hobbies we’ve acquired. For me personally, I have accomplished something that until this past December hadn’t even been on my radar – competing 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzles. Until now, I had no interest in partaking in them, but I will admit that I am now slightly hooked!

 

I remember a few years back Robert Fulghum wrote a book titled, “Everything I Ever Needed to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten.” With its simple title, Fulghum reminded his readers of the most basic lessons in life – to share, to always take naps, that warm cookies and milk could fix many a problem. With this book title in mind and after just a few months of my new hobby, I feel I should write the sequel to Robert Fulghum’s book, only mine would be titled, “Everything I Ever Needed to Know, I Learned from Doing Jigsaw Puzzles.”

 

To begin, completing jigsaw puzzles requires patience which is why I had never thought to do them. I would certainly not describe myself as being particularly patient. Channeling my inner patience has involved much practice; I often need to tell myself to take a deep breath and relax, to remind myself it’s ok if the puzzle is not coming together instantly. After all, puzzles, are meant to be a process. While it is satisfying to see the completed product, it’s the challenge of assembling the puzzle that is what I enjoy the most. It’s the process, not the product that makes puzzles so rewarding. And this process often requires me to step back when it seems too challenging and take a break in order to see the pieces with fresh eyes and a new perspective. For those who enjoy doing puzzles, think of how many times you couldn’t find a piece and how many times you ended up finding it only after taking a break and coming back to look. It’s the time away which makes one more productive.

 

A student once asked me how I complete puzzles. Do I work on the edge pieces first and then address the middle, he asked, or do I start in the middle and work out?  Now that I’ve done a few, I realize I always try to complete the edges first. It gives me a sense of the big picture before I concentrate on the details. I gain a sense of the size of the project and how the inner pieces should be organized. If nothing else, it gives me a sense of control and I gain a sense of accomplishment by completing the borders. But sometimes it’s not possible to do this. When the edges are all the same color or when I can’t find that last straight edge, I need to change plans and start in the middle. I will admit that leaving the edges undone makes me uncomfortable but being flexible with my approach allows me to move forward and address other areas of the project. By fitting middle pieces together, I increase my chances of finding those missing edge pieces in the slightly lessened pile of unconnected parts.

 

When I need to stray from my original plan, I remind myself there really is no wrong way to approach a puzzle. It’s whatever is most comfortable that should dictate how to proceed.  Along these lines, I realize there are usually parts of the puzzle which are easier to complete while other areas are more difficult. Either because of the pattern, the colors of the pieces or their shapes, certain areas of the puzzle are more easily mastered. Starting with those areas instead of always following the same plan of events can be beneficial. It’s okay to start with the easier sections and increase the difficulty as I become a stronger and more confident puzzle builder.

 

Another lesson I have learned over these past few weeks is that while puzzles should be challenging, they should not destroy my enjoyment or self-esteem. I am careful when selecting which puzzles I choose as I realize that like the three bears, some are too easy, some too hard, and some are just right. I prefer the ones which make me slow down and challenge myself while also affording me the opportunity for success.

 

Aesthetics also matter. In addition to choosing the appropriate level of difficulty, I am careful to choose ones with pictures I enjoy. Puzzles with bright colors are simply more fun for me and much like the art I choose to hang on my walls, I need to enjoy looking at the picture. The visual is important but so, too, is the feel of the pieces and the sound they make when they fit together correctly. The act of assembling a puzzle should feed multiple senses – how it makes me feel - visually, auditorily, and tactilely is as important as how it makes me think. Related to the look of the puzzle, I have become far more observant of the specifics in each piece. Sometimes, even the slightest change in color or shape can decide if two pieces fit together. Again, a reason to slow down and practice patience.

 

But even with extreme concentration, I can’t always find the piece I’m looking for and that’s when my family will come in to help. You see, what’s so great about puzzles is that they can be done by working with others or alone. Unlike competitive activities, there are no winners. Puzzles can be done and enjoyed either solo or with others working as a team. Sometimes I prefer to work on a puzzle by myself and sometimes I enjoy working with another as we strive toward a common goal.

 

Finally, what I enjoy about puzzles is the element of trust they require -trust in my own abilities and trust that all the pieces will be in the box.  The feeling of tearing open a sealed bag full of pieces brings with it the excitement for the potential challenge and confidence I will be able find that illusive piece even when I feel the search has gone on endlessly.

 

So why, you may ask, am I writing about toys? Well, take a moment and think of all these lessons I just mentioned but frame them in the context of daily life instead of constructing puzzles. Think how much more peaceful we would be if we remembered that life should be about the process, the journey instead of the destination; if we were to remind ourselves that when events are overwhelming, we should take a deep breath. How, if before responding to an emotional trigger, we step away to give ourselves time to gain clarity and a fresh perspective. Imagine what life could be if we made sure to focus on the big picture before getting fixated on the details and surrounded ourselves with beauty, whether with art, good music, delicious food, or spending time in nature. Finally, imagine how powerful we would feel if we realized that while certain activities may be easier done with another, each of us is capable of so much more than we often give ourselves credit for. What could life be if we trusted our own abilities and stopped doubting ourselves?

 

What if the large picture of cupcakes currently sitting on my dining room table is more than 1,000 pieces of colored cardboard? What if it were really a collection of life lessons wrapped up into a sweet looking picture? I encourage each of us to take note of the lessons we can learn from seemingly meaningless activities and evaluate the puzzle we call life.