A Jigsaw Puzzle Journey

I recently did the most difficult jigsaw puzzle ever, and it was an experience that took me on a deep, spiritual journey. A journey of self reflection and introspection. A journey of relationship with self, other living beings, and spirit. This seems to be part of the current phase of life in which I presently reside. I have been knowing, and talking about all things as spiritual practice for some time. I have learned how to reside in the space between, where more is revealed. I have learned the balancing act of compassionate boundaries and self discipline as a form of self love paired with the gift of space, breath, and adjusting to what is. I have learned these things and continue to learn them, one breath at a time.

To my surprise and fascination, I am actually experiencing the benefits of the practice. I can see my transformed self being different. I see relationships changing. Some deepening and evolving, others being released for mutual benefit alongside feelings of grief and loss. I am living the practice, with all of my beautiful imperfections, while living and sharing the gifts. I am seeing in a deeper way, the meaning of all things as spiritual practice. I am seeing what lies beneath, and I am amazed and intrigued every day.

So this puzzle, the most difficult jigsaw puzzle ever, is the centerpiece for this essay. I am not an avid jigsaw puzzler. It is not something I am doing often, but something I do sometimes. Maybe once a year, maybe several in a row and then not again for many years. I've done more than a few. I've even done a round jigsaw puzzle, which was fascinating and different, but nothing like the spiritual, inner journey that this very large, maple leaf shaped puzzle took me on. And so, I ask you to bare with me as I share this deep, personal journey while describing seemingly unimportant (but so very important) details of this jigsaw puzzle.

As I just mentioned, the puzzle was in the shape of a maple leaf. No straight edges, no solid perimeter or frame to work within. There were pieces with straight edges in the middle of the puzzle, which for me was unheard of. The pieces were cut in the most odd and amazing shapes and angles, like nothing I had ever seen. Also it was a very large puzzle with many, many, very small pieces.

One important contextual piece of this experience is that I have been living with a friend, in her home, sharing her space. This friend is a soulmate, and a person with whom I go deep. A person who I trust and who trusts me. A person who sees me, really sees me, and who feels seen by me. We have witnessed each other for many years and have shared in ways I feel deeply grateful for. This detail is important because she and I talked about the puzzle nearly every day during the time I was doing it, and without her, I do not think I would have completed the puzzle or been able to marvel at, and enjoy the journey.

It is summer in Arizona and it is hot outside, while indoors with some cooling support, it is comfortable. In the room where I have been staying are some games and other items that sit on shelves waiting to be touched by curious hands. I saw the jigsaw puzzles, and thought it would be a good, quiet activity to do indoors in the heat of day and also keep my brain engaged. To those of you who know me in a certain way, it will be no surprise that rather than choosing a more simple, adorable kitten puzzle with large and less pieces, I chose this one. I choose the more difficult path, the path less taken. I chose a jigsaw puzzle that changed my way of seeing and being. In choosing this particular puzzle path, I had no idea what would be revealed.

I have a way that I always (but not anymore....) do a puzzle. I like to lay out all of the pieces, and while doing so separate out the straight edges and also the four corners which make up the perimeter. Then I like to put said perimeter together and from there, fill in the middle. I like the structure of having the outer edge completed to work within. I feel safe when I understand the container or context within which I am being, working, doing. I feel safe when I know what your boundaries are, and you know what mine are, and from there we understand how to be together. From there we allow each other and ourselves to be and grow and evolve. And this is how, before this most difficult jigsaw puzzle ever and some tender sharing from my dear friend, I thought was the only and obviously correct way to do a jigsaw puzzle. The only and obvious correct way to be.

With its' unique maple leaf shape, this puzzle had no linear frame from which to work. Though there were some straight-ish pieces, some went in the middle and some went on the non-straight-edged perimeter. As I was laying out the pieces, of which there were many, and they were very small, and I now have the eyesight of a person in their mid-forties, I realized just how challenging this puzzle was going to be. But I continued to lay out the pieces, which were soon taking up so much space on the table, that even if I was able to start putting them together, space was running out.

I think it had been two days since I started laying out the pieces, when my friend shared with me her own jigsaw puzzle experience. She first commented something like, "Oh, you decided to do that puzzle." "Yes, yes I have," I said, "and it is ridiculous." She had attempted this puzzle before, realized it was impossible, and put it back on the shelf. I was still curious, and my feeling that the puzzle was ridiculous was more a fascination than a turn-off. But I was getting no where with trying to put together the perimeter of this wildly shaped puzzle with the most odd shaped pieces and I was running out space to lay out the pieces that remained in the box.

The next thing my friend said to me, is what changed everything. But not until I took time to digest the revelatory information. She was commenting about how she noticed that I like to lay out all of the pieces before beginning. When she does a puzzle she pulls out some handfuls and starts matching up what goes together, putting things together as they appear, handful by handful. Many pieces stay in the box as she routes around, hunting and gathering. "But what about the perimeter?", I asked her. "Oh, I don't care about that. I just do it whenever it presents itself." I respectfully listened, with one curious ear and one incredulous ear that could not even consider this concept, teetering between a desire to learn and old, self-righteous ways of being.

By laying out all of the pieces, I am able to see all of the pieces. And if I can see all of the pieces, I know what all of my options are. I have all of the information. How could I possibly act without laying out all of my options, all of the possible outcomes? But haven't I already learned that we never can really know? That being in my head with possible outcomes prevents me from being in the present with what is actually happening? Yes, I have learned this. Yes, I have experienced being in the moment, being fully present and moving from a place of stability and grace. And yes, I get to keep learning it. Over and over in many different costumes, on many unique paths.

The curious, open part of me was intrigued. If I could let go of a concept, that came from who knows where, that told me there was one right way to do a jigsaw puzzle, one right way to do anything, perhaps there was hope for me in relationship to this particular puzzle. A concept, which I have continually let go of, over and over through years of recovery and introspection was once again offering me the opportunity to go deeper.

I have let go of much self-righteousness over the years. Heck, I did not even know I was self-righteous when my journey of spiritual recovery and healing began over twenty years ago. But it is a process. And while I move about in a different way, and while my being is softer, more compassionate and more forgiving, I remain human. It is with humility and gratitude (most of the time) that I continue to learn and grow and transform. I learned long ago that there is no one right way to do anything, no one right way to be. While I continue to see life through that lens, sometimes the lens gets blurry.

I woke up with the sun the following morning, and while drinking warm water, looked at the table of puzzle pieces in the quiet space before my friend and the beloved pets arose. Of course she would do a puzzle in that way. Of course she would be more flexible and free flowing like the water element that is so much a part of her radiant being. Of course the ways in which she moves through life with softness, unhindered by stiff, rigid rules is how she would approach a jigsaw puzzle. If I was going to stay on the path with this puzzle, I needed to embrace those parts of myself. To remember that I am all of the qualities and all of the elements and that flexibility is one of them. With all of the tools at my disposal, all of the options of how to approach this unique and beautiful experience, which way of being would allow me to contentedly cooperate with this puzzle? Which way of being would allow me to contentedly and courageously cooperate with spirit?

I stopped laying out the pieces that remained in the box. I stopped unsuccessfully trying to pick out the perimeter pieces. I just stopped doing life in the way I had been, and allowed myself to change course. To breathe and to look at the pieces of this puzzle, the pieces of my life with new eyes and an open heart. I let go of control and the need to know all of my options. I was continually offered the opportunity to do this each time I arrived at the puzzle table over the next couple of weeks, and in doing so, much more was revealed.

With this soft, flowing way of being, with this newly re-opened heart, I began to look at the project, and everything else that came my way, differently. The puzzle scene was flowers of many colors and birds of many shapes and sizes. Lots of detail, as to be expected in the most difficult jigsaw puzzle ever with many, many tiny pieces in the most odd shapes and contortions. So I began to separate out similar colors from what was already on the table, while temporarily ignoring what was still in the box. Those pieces would be there when I needed them or wanted them. I cared about them, I just was not available to give them attention at that moment.

No longer needing to focus first on the perimeter, I was free to focus on what was right in front me. Rather than striving or working hard to do a thing that was really not working, choosing not to force a solution, I saw a whole new puzzle, a whole new world. The perimeter would present itself in its' own time with all of its' beautiful peaks and curves. The structure of the outer edge existed even though I could not see it yet. The boundaries that help me to feel safe were taking shape, just not in the way I usually prefer. All I needed to do was to be present and patient, one puzzle piece at a time, and let go of the rest. And I was continually reminded of that, each time I considered abandoning the project.

It was slow going. I began to put a few pieces together here and there. It looked like a disorganized, segregated mess of colors at their own ends of the table. And even though all of these pieces were pink, and those pieces were purple, they were not all the same flowers and did not necessarily fit together. Each time I considered putting the puzzle back in its' box, I would see a piece out of the corner of my eye, and it went someplace. And then two, three more pieces would follow, and hope was regained. Such is life. When it seems like nothing will ever change, when it seems no more options exist, more is revealed.

I'm not sure when it was, but at some point I knew I would finish the puzzle. I settled into its' way of being and adjusted mine accordingly while still maintaining my wholeness. There was no timeline, no goal, no idea of how it would turn out, just presence. I was now free to enjoy the practice, to inhale the journey and exhale that which did not serve. I could still look for perimeter pieces if I wanted to, and I could rejoice when I found them, but I enjoyed each piece that was found along the way. Large swathes of colorful flowers were coming together, birds were appearing. Eventually, without all of the pieces in place, the outline came into focus.

Hopefully by now you still remember the important detail, that this puzzle is in the shape of a maple leaf. Well, maple leaves have stems. The puzzle had a long, curved, thin stem. The stem was about 5-6 inches in length. And hopefully you also remember that this puzzle was very, very large. It was a joyous celebration when I finally had the stem put together and attached to the base of the leaf along with a large chunk of the bottom perimeter and quite a bit filled in from there. I was able to enjoy this feat for some time, and then while connecting some pieces closer to the top, or tip of the leaf, I realized that it was not going to fit on the table. " Hmmmmm.....", I wondered. "What can I do about this?"

Turning the puzzle would not solve the space issue. "Ooooh", I thought with trepidation, "I need to take off the stem." "Wait, is that true? Is there another way?", I contemplated. While there are always more options than we first see, this one seemed like a viable one. I did not like the idea, and I even put it on and took it off at least twice. But in the end I realized that this thing I did not like, this thing that made me uncomfortable, served a higher purpose. It was okay, I was okay, everything was okay.

I had been working on it that way, without the stem, for maybe a day. My friend came over to look at it, and while surprised and in awe of my progress, immediately noticed the stem removal. "I see you took off the stem.", she said. "Yeah.", I said, with some grief in my voice. "How do you feel about that?", she asked. "Not great. I don't like it, I don't like it at all, but it was the only way it would fit on the table." By then I had adjusted to what was, and had become more comfortable with the situation even though it was not exactly what I wanted it to be. I saw the higher purpose. I wanted to complete the puzzle, and I could live with it this way. "Yeah, I wouldn't like it either.", she said.

In that moment, in the way she asked me how I felt about removing the stem, I felt seen. My being felt acknowledged and honored, and I did not feel unique or rigid, or any of the mean things I sometimes say about my own self. I was not alone, and my radiant self, with all of its' qualities were beautiful. She asked me that question because she knows me, and she knew that taking off the stem was probably not an easy decision. She also knows herself, and knew that she too would not like having to do it either. She saw me and also herself, and she let me know I was not alone in a beautiful, gentle way.

And so it went. I worked on the puzzle and my relationship with it and the world around me. I stayed up later than what is best for me a couple of nights. I got distracted with the puzzle, and was late for something one day. I had to set boundaries and be disciplined to walk away at various times. I had to remember to stop, to breathe, to rest. I have a tendency to get a little intense with jigsaw puzzles, a little sucked in, and needed to moderate that for my own well being over those couple of weeks. This was not something new that I learned with this particular puzzle, rather something I know about myself and was able to work with yet again.

I had let my friend know that she was welcome to help with the puzzle. When I fist brought it downstairs, I was thinking of it as a house project. She wanted nothing to do with it. She looked at it once in a while, thinking maybe she would add a piece, but walked away every time. Her support came in other ways, and was an integral part of my and our journey over those weeks, and really, for all the days to come. I told her she could put in the last piece, but she was having none of that. It wasn't her place, this was my puzzle experience. While it was my puzzle experience and it was a profoundly deep journey well beyond the perimeter of that differently shaped puzzle, it was something we shared, and her presence in my life continues to make a difference.

This puzzle reminded me and gave me a new and deeper understanding of what it means for all things to be a spiritual practice. The reminder to slow down, to breathe, to re-open the heart and the eyes is a reminder I always benefit from. And the idea that this reminder is available each day, in all activities amazes me. Whether I am chopping veggies, collecting firewood, sitting in a harmonious or contentious meeting, caring for pets, children, or aging parents, or playing a game or doing a jigsaw puzzle, the opportunity for spiritual practice is always there. The opportunity to go inward to be with the experience on a deeper level exists if I am willing to access it. Spirit will always welcomes my cooperation. And also, sometimes a game is just a game, and that too is perfectly beautiful.