Of Puzzles and Pools

I love puzzles and I hate them. I’m referring to the jigsaw puzzle here. I have used puzzles a lot in the past in teaching and therapy (individual and group). I have bought many puzzles as gifts. My older daughter in particular has been the recipient of several very beautiful and intricate puzzles. I had a friend who that is all she looked for at garage sales—and the bigger the better! That is the stuff my nightmares are made of!

How do you put a puzzle together? Primarily, I’m a framer. I go straight to the edge pieces and get the outside established before I move toward the center. Then, I’m a clumper. I sort through the pieces hunting for “like” patterns or pieces that go to a specific object or part of the center (a barn, a flower, ect.). And I need the picture. People who just start throwing a puzzle together without studying and referring often to the picture are, in my opinion, strange. Why would you avoid the one help that could get you there more quickly?

How do you feel about someone coming up and picking up the one piece you have been searching for for hours? You have been on a quest so long for that piece that you had to take a potty break and a stretch break. It was during that second break, just as you were walking back to the puzzle refreshed for the hunt, when you see the interloper reach down and nonchalantly pick up the prized piece and casually, as if it couldn’t possibly matter, fit it right into the rest. Then they always say something completely irksome like, “I don’t see what’s so hard about these things. Child’s play.” If you got the right jury, I think they would acquit.
Right now, my life feels like someone came in with a two ton dump truck full of pieces and dropped them right on top of me. I have been given no picture to go by and there are no edge pieces. I am overwhelmed and I don’t know where to start.

I have another feeling. And if you don’t mind me mixing my metaphors, I’ll share it. I’ve been watching a lot of the Olympics. I am awed by the talent, dedication, and team spirit. Strength and speed seems to be bursting forth in every event. And courage. Lately, I’ve watched an abundance of platform diving. You know the one: where kids not even old enough to drive are jumping off the equivalent of a thirty foot building without making a splash. And let’s throw in three summersaults and a couple twists for good measure, or jump off backwards, or insanity of all insanity, start from a handstand. I can’t even do a handstand. As a child, I had to use the wall to do one! But, I digress.

I feel like someone has forced me out to the edge of the platform and is insisting I jump. It probably wouldn’t be too big a deal if I could swim. Nah, that’s not it. I can do the old lady swim to get myself out of the deep end. It could be my fear is that I will hurt myself entering the water. I can’t dive and when I land it will hurt because some part of my anatomy is going to hit smack on the water causing a huge splash (add embarrassment to pain) and leaving an even huger red mark—since there is way more anatomy to hit the water than there was when I was a teen ager and jumping off a platform might have made sense.

Bottom line: I don’t know what to do and I’m afraid to start. There are a lot of reasons to jump in and I’m going to look at them and the fear in upcoming posts. Right now I’m going to utilize avoidance and go to the local Farmer’s Market and do some other grocery shopping.