I’m Puzzled

I’m puzzled as to why I turn, compulsively, to puzzles when I’m stressed.

I load up on volumes of old New York Times crossword puzzles.  They’re blank canvases, ready to be completed.

I order new jig-saw puzzles.  Those jagged little pieces are just begging to be put together.

I guess I do puzzles because they’re concrete.  The crossword puzzle answers and the jig-saw pieces fit together just so.  The satisfaction of making that happen is calming.  Rewarding.  What you see is what you get. No ambiguity.  No discussion.   No bias.  It is what it is.  There’s one solution and only one.

Then there’s the “Ah-Ha” factor of putting the pieces together successfully. It sure beats the “Oh-No” factor of watching the news.

Puzzles have edges, parameters. You know where they start and where they’ll end. Make a mistake in the crossword?  Erase it and put in a different letter.  A jig-saw piece didn’t fit quite right?  Slip it out and try another one. You’re in control.  It’s a small way to make order out of chaos.

It’s hard to get our heads and hands around what’s happening right now.   There certainly aren’t any quick solutions.   No easy answers. 

So give me my jig-saws and crosswords.  They bring a dollop of comfort and a small dose of distraction to my small, and increasingly isolated, world.