Earlier this week—and this week is a December week, a week smashed between much holiday planning and to-do-ing—I was in an overwhelmed state. My chest felt like an olympic ping pong match was going on while my brain wasn’t sure it should be watching the players or the ball.
I took a moment to write down the decisions I was not making: when to visit my folks? how many days? do I drive or fly? am I coordinating with anyone? what about a pitstop on the way? we don’t have a tree yet, do we really need one? what about a small one? what about cookies . . . . Writing out my questions provided some clarity about what was contributing to feeling overwhelmed, but I wasn’t actually feeling much better in my chest. The ping pong players in there were going at it strong, and I was finding it hard to focus on making decisions.
I had about an hour before my next commitment, so I took out a wooden puzzle. I love wooden puzzles for their chunky pieces (about 1/4″ thick), whimsies (pieces shaped like objects), and variety of cuts. I have a small collection, and I have not yet tired of repeat play. I carefully choose puzzles with images that I find thoughtful
or silly
and sometimes I find ones that are thoughtful AND silly
(There are guys warming their hands over a fire in the back, and I imagine Hieronymus Bosch, the artist, painting around 1475 and thinking “The baby Jesus has no clothes, so there must be a fire to warm him by and people walking by might like to warm themselves, too. Let me show that!)
This time I chose one that was silly. I chose silly because I wanted to loosen myself up and stop taking myself so seriously. I wanted to see and imagine silly things. (And being silly is part of my core nature. I make up silly songs about socks and olives and coffee.)
As I started working, I started settling. Pieces fit together, which is such a good experience when you are feeling out of sorts. I would pick up a piece, rub the sides, examine the colors, look some more. I find that this kind of of looking is the Goldilocks of brain engagement and rest. Just enough to keep my mind and body in the now, just enough enough to allow my mind and body to settle into their natural rhythm. The ping pong players slowed down. (And by the end of the day, they’d gone to their own homes.)
I encourage you to try it when you are feeling overloaded. Instead of reaching for your phone, the TV, or some other media, try a puzzle.
Solace 