"Pick a Word, Paint a Story #25"

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The Puzzle of Being Human.

People describe life as a journey, a game, or rather even a test but maybe the best reference is that of a puzzle. Every one of us are born with a disintegrated gathering of fragments: snatches of personality, rays of capacity, pieces of fantasies, and occasionally edges of suffering. With time, we attempt to link them, but we hope that the picture, which we develop, will have sense.

However, life unlike the puzzles in the boxes does not have a reference picture. You have no idea about what the finishing image is. There is blurriness in some of them. Others do not appear to fit in anywhere. and some others vanish away, perhaps forever.

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We come across other people and attempt to latch their puzzle pieces to ours and they either fit together seamlessly or we bash in that which is not supposed to be. Friendships, love and the betrayal, growing up, it is all a part of putting in the pieces, or filling in the gaps in our lives. We fail, we err, we judge wrongly and sometimes we discover an element that illuminates the whole picture.

That is followed by the internal puzzle: self understanding. What is my motivation? Why should I think this way? Why am I not able to forget that memory? The human mind is perhaps among the most difficult puzzles of all. We are always learning and this makes us change even though we may have always assumed that certain pieces in place will remain the same. We change our beliefs, values and priorities. The picture we are creating is altered as well.

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Others scavenge each piece with gusto in order to have theirs assembled quickest- money, status, authority. Some of them stop and delve into every piece even the painful ones. Funny enough, the most painful ones usually help the image to be sharpened. Loss is the lesson of thanksgiving. Love is manifested by loss. Resilience comes with failure. We begin to appreciate how even the discrete jagged and undesired in a way belongs.

This puzzle is not at the finish line. The point is that it is not expected to be finished when we are still alive. Perhaps, that is the point. Perhaps then the beauty of the puzzle is not at all in the finished image, but in assembling. In the endeavour. When the two weird blocks snap into one another and you have an a-ha moment.

When someone looks in and sees your puzzle, your pain, your joy, your progress, and yet they choose to remain, assist, engage what it is, it has always been there as the reminder that we are not destined to end it all alone.

And so on building block by block. Allow the puzzle to increase. It is ugly, unsure, and even frustrating; it is yours. And that is priceless.