I have a ‘puzzle table’ set up in my main room, I have a puzzle mat, and puzzle-piece trays, and several shelves of puzzles. Some are abstract designs, some are thematic, some are cartoons. Some came as gifts or carry memories, some are larger than others, some are substantially more difficult.
A few weeks ago, I started a new-to-me puzzle that looked intriguing – a labyrinthine design of solid white and green. There’s no texture, no shadow, no nuance, the piece shapes are not all unique. The lines are straight with few identifying features. It’s a doozy.
As I said, I like puzzles. I only recently returned to the practice of having a jigsaw puzzle on the go at any time. I enjoy the time spent doing puzzles as a chance to listen to an audiobook, or contemplate some thoughts of the day. It’s relaxing.
So when the green-and-white puzzle became more of a burden than a joy, I realised I wasn’t going near it. I gave it a few weeks of sitting out, with several frustrated attempts, before I admitted that this was not accomplishing its purpose.
So I put it away. Maybe in the future I’ll want to try it again; maybe I won’t.
And I pulled out another puzzle, with an easier design, which went together surprisingly quickly. It brought me joy, it engaged me, it was overall fun to complete.
And it brought me back into the practice of puzzling; I’m keen to start on the next one from the shelf. I have no regrets about packing up the labyrinth; not everything is going to be a good fit every time.
Life can be like those puzzles: sometimes challenging, sometimes exciting, sometimes entertaining. My thought is that when the pieces of life aren’t fitting for us, it’s okay to shelf them for a bit – and focus on finding things that will feed us.
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