Confession first. I have not always liked puzzles. I had no formal training – and no natural discernible talent. 

The pandemic has helped me re-discover puzzles, and in doing so, discover a few things about myself. 

1.     My satisfaction with the puzzle is at its highest when opening the box. As the perimeter is assembled, my excitement spirals downward as my frustration climbs upward until the last piece is placed, and relief/joy/satisfaction vie for dominance. 

2.    Having said that, when I see the end in sight, my enthusiasm (or is that stubborn refusal to quit), forces me to work long past my peak effectiveness. Intensity doesn’t make me better, a lesson that carries over into my real life where I persist beyond the return on investment, forcing pieces that don’t fit onto the mat.

3.    Interestingly, the next day when fresh – those same pieces I searched for in vain seem to leap out and point themselves at their natural fit. Often things that have been overlooked come together when there is a state of readiness for them.

4.    Puzzle makers must have a sadistic streak, I think. They lull you into thinking that the colors/design are the key and when you have an empty space to fill you find later (I mean much later, after you have questioned whether all the pieces were actually in the box in the first place) that the color wasn’t what you expected.

5.     In that same way, after I have tried every single piece in the same spot, I find the right one resting in front of me, teaching me that frustration causes even the right fit to fail when the frenzy of defeat looms ahead of us.

6.    Recently, I ordered Norman Catwell from Amazon; I was captured by the image and hesitated at first only because there were only 300 pieces and I always like to get my money’s worth.  Once home, I discovered that when you expect something to be simple and easy, it will often take you on a wild ride. The image and experience is a great reminder that we see what we expect to see and need others to help us see ourselves. This includes both warts and strengths.

7.    I have discovered some latent, limited talent to just know where a piece goes when I pick it up. It fires approximately .00003 percent of the time and when it does I feel differently about life. There is something so appealing about success that every single individual should experience. It carries over to the other remaining pieces of our puzzle and areas of our life.

8.    Puzzling has taught me that I am a bit too obstinate and set in my own perspective. And that the help of others who bring their own genius to the table expands the joy and the win. 

9.    I always leave the last piece out for my husband to discover and place. (Truthfully, he does bail in the middle of the puzzle believing it should not be a crusade, but a light-hearted, pastime. I find it strange that he can enjoy the process and not get caught up in the frenzy of finishing). 

10. My last confession is that I would be completely lost and disengaged without the picture on the box. My talent demands that I bring the vision into focus, before I can care about the pieces.   Over the last year, this “pandemic puzzle” going in our work, our lives and our families should remind us to keep sharing the picture and asking others to do the same. Without it, we can’t know where we “fit.”