The failed adventures of puzzles

This have been complicated recently. Actually, this has been a banner year for me.  It was the first not-dismal New Year’s eve/day in a decade…which has turned into a mostly dismal year.  Hopefully March will turn it around. (It can totally do that right? March can march right out of anything…I hope.)

If we were in a perfect world, the only mild complications for Oz and me would be school related. But we live in a less than perfect world.  There is Oz’s health (very rocky this year), my health (always declines in winter), new employment, family struggles, space-time-continuum crises (where does all the time go in one day?!), which of course add up to relationship struggles. I guess it is the only place either of us can get anywhere. Unfortunately, we are both seeking traction and not relief.

If you trace us back a few months, it felt like we had all the puzzle pieces coming together.  A little one-foot-by-one-foot picture, probably of a cottage by a waterfall, Kinkade-esque.

Twilight Cottage, Thomas Kinkade

Twilight Cottage, Thomas Kinkade

Now I’m certain that I’m not so sure.  All of the sudden, we both have a seemingly endless pile of puzzle pieces…and we just figured out that the picture is actually four-feet-by-five-feet.  The waterfall we thought we had, could possibly be ocean spray. Or a blue whale’s back. Or worse, abstract. Or even worse, a giant i-spy image.

Yes, we have a lot of pieces. And we don’t know what the picture is.  But we know where we are headed- just not sure how to get there.

I’m taking a psychology class that analyzes small groups and decision making. My professor would tell Oz and me that it is time to make a strategy. She’d tell us to really take our time figuring out how we will go about this; go slow to go fast.  I think the first step would be to turn over all the puzzle pieces, so we can see exactly what we are dealing with. But that is scary. What if his pieces are all bluish and mine aren’t? Not that I’d want them to all be the same, but I’d like to pretend I could see cohesion.

I guess the important thing to remember is that safety is not guaranteed. But for the right adventure, you have to risk it all.  Because if you don’t, you risk losing it all anyway. The right adventure might be a failed adventure. But just because the adventures fails doesn’t mean everything else did too.

Puzzles are tricky.

But isn’t that what makes them worthwhile and beautiful?

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