Puzzle Master

I just went hunting through the skeletons of my old entries, and found this little gem from my 18th birthday.  I’m 32 now.

I looked in the mirror and saw eighteen years of totally incoherent emotion and irrational decisions. It’s one of those odd situations where I recognize all the pieces but I can’t quite grasp what the finished puzzle is supposed to look like. I’ve lost the neat looking-box with the picture on front. I suppose that’s the fun of it though…constructing, deconstructing and reconstructing until you figure it out. I’ve never been much good at puzzles.

Perhaps this year will be the year I read as much as I want to, or start doing yoga, or study Buddhism like I’ve been meaning to, or really stop procrastinating about the things that are important to me. Perhaps this year will be the year I fall in love for real. But why should things change now? I suppose eighteen is a good number for a new beginning. Maybe I’ll even change my mind on marriage like I have about everything else I once held dear.

It’s interesting to ponder what has stayed the same and what I’ve grown into.  I did do yoga, for a long while. I will again someday soon. I never read as much as I want.  I know way more about Buddhism then I did when I was 18, but I’ve got a lifetime left to go.  I’ve lost a brother and gained my family back.  I’ve left my music and come back to it again, only to teach not-music to the exact students I said I never wanted and love more than anything I could have imagined. I’ve married and divorced an open diary pen pal after what we had in print unfolded into a very different story.  I’ve loved so many dogs. I’ve made so many mistakes, and forgiven myself for so much more. I still procrastinate, but I know what’s important (mostly dogs) and I take care of it.

I’ve learned that life is a lot less like a jigsaw puzzle and a lot more like a brain teaser.  You know, the ones that are made of metal and wood and bent into weird shapes and you stare and twist and think and fight and eventually…things click into place, and you can learn to hold one piece at a time and set aside what you no longer need as you work the rest of it out.  When you finish there is this amazing sense of pride and accomplishment.

“Look at me! Look what I did! I figured out the puzzle! I got it apart!”

“Great,” The World says, and rolls her eyes. “Big whoop. That was the amateur level.  Try THIS problem on for size.”

And so you sit with the next puzzle of knots in front of you.  And you ponder it, and show it to your friends, and ask them for help (if you’re clever) or hide it jealously away so you can have the pride of figuring it out alone (if you’re daft).

But, after a while, you have this neat little pile of all these puzzles you’ve solved.  And when someone asks you for help you can say “Here, I’ve got this, let me solve it.  I’ve done this before.”