My daughter got me a small jigsaw puzzle (I don’t have room for a large one) and it was more absorbing and challenging than I thought it would be. It both quietened and challenged my mind, which was nice. I bought a few more, cheaper small puzzles with more pieces, but still only the size of postcard. It was a great way to procrastinate on other projects (although I’ve always loved puzzles.)
I did one and it was challenging; plus the pieces were hard to fit together, they weren’t cut very well, but I finished it. When I worked the second one, one of the edge pieces broke and the surrounding pieces wouldn’t hold it in place – it kept wandering away from the puzzle. One rainy day, when I finally got all the pieces together, two were missing. I looked everywhere in my apartment, in all the crevices of my wheelchair, but I couldn’t find them.
It was annoying and frustrating. My first impulse was to email the manufacturer and demand my money back. I felt very self-righteous and aggrieved. But before I wrote my indignant email, I looked out the window and realized there’d been a break in the rain.
We’ve had a lot of rainy, stormy weather lately, so I decided to go for a walk around the block first. The air was slightly hot and smelled of rain and grass. Every once in a while, I’d pass some fragrant flowering bush or plant. It didn’t take long to shed all my frustrations and enjoy urban nature.
When I got back home, by my desk, I saw one of the pieces of the puzzle on the floor. It must have fallen into my wheelchair and then fallen out in another part of the apartment. I picked it up and rushed back to put the piece in its place. But I looked at the 197 and a half pieces all in place. That took a lot of work. It was pretty — 2 flamingos in an idyllic stream surrounded by greenery and flowers. My eye was drawn to what was in place, instead of what was missing.
It’s very, very aggravating to not get a project finished, and especially to not get it finished through no fault of my own. But why did I let it ruin the whole challenge and the whole game of putting the puzzle together? Is it because I wanted to brag about it?
Is any puzzle in life ever completely figured out? Is anything perfect? Even the completed puzzles I’d done were jagged with jigsaw lines. Once I finished one and admired it (and let my ego enjoy how clever I’d been), I very much enjoyed scrunching it all up again, pulling apart all those pieces, returning them to the box, ready to pass the puzzle on to someone else.
I didn’t put the found piece in its place. I left it next to the puzzle, along with the broken edge piece. I’d put together all the other pieces, and that puzzle was complete, even with pieces missing. I looked at it every day for a while. It reminded me of myself. All the jagged little pieces that are missing in my memory, in my body, in my heart. But I am whole, living being.
I think the experience gave me an insight into my art block. I always, always find a flaw, find a missing piece that makes my art, writing, and life seem imperfect Oh, how I crave perfection and uniqueness and beauty in my art. As we all do. But nothing I make, any of us make, comes out in the perfect form we first imagine it’s going to be.
So I scrunched up all the pieces of my frustrating puzzle and turned it into imperfect art.
And that in turn gave me permission to move forward with creativity and beauty when so many pieces of civility, kindness, and love are missing in our country. There’s so much uncertainty in healthcare and in our collective support of each other. But I need to focus on those who are moving forward with bravery and love and creativity to fight the erosion of values we see around us. This country’s puzzle may never be put together into a unified picture, but a lot of the parts are working, are beautiful. I’m puzzled on exactly what to do, but I’ll keep trying, in my own crazy way, to support those who work to make America just and kind again.
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