The Puzzle Cheer Squad We All Deserve
How to Make Reaching Feel More Like Rising
My dad worked at a guitar factory for over 40 years. Eventually, he became the factory supervisor. When he retired, I think he unconsciously appointed himself supervisor of all life. If anyone does anything—like my mom cooking dinner or the roofer who comes by to fix some broken shingles—he'll be there watching. He comments on process improvements or silently judges with a head shake, even on matters where he has no expertise. It understandably drives my mom nuts.
But lately, his watching has softened into wonder. Last month, he stood on my porch studying my neighbor's trash can cleaning service. He came back inside, shaking his head. I braced for criticism. Instead, he beamed: "Did you see that?! Quite an operation!"
From Supervisor to "Visor"
At 85, my dad has started to become more of a"visor"—an awestruck witness to the way people make things work in the world. On a getaway in the mountains recently, my husband and I stopped at a gas station where a tanker truck was fueling up. The process involved the truck driver handling a sequence of large hoses, hatches, and valves. My husband, who has mostly only known my dad in his gentler visor role, turned to me and said, "Your dad would love this.”
During my dad's last visit, I sat down to work on my latest puzzle, a mash-up of Jane Austen characters mingling in a Victorian village. This is hardly his kind of territory, and yet, I soon felt him hovering over my shoulder as I separated sky pieces from pond pieces.
"How did you know that went there?" he asked as I moved one piece from the pile into its rightful place.
"I just have a sense after staring at it so long of what goes where and take a guess." I had to think about that response because before he asked, I didn’t really think about what I was doing as having much skill or thought behind it.
"Wow. I don't have the patience!"
With each piece I placed, his excitement grew. "Cookie!" he called to my mom sitting nearby watching Jeopardy, "Are you seeing this?!? She keeps knowing where to put things!" When I completed a small sailboat, he pumped his fist with a "Yes!"—a gesture he used to reserve for goals scored by the long since retired Hartford Whalers or 3 pointers swooshed by the UConn Huskies, not a singular puzzle piece giving shape to the rolling hills of Derbyshire.
It's a delight to be witnessed like that. Going about your usual business, doing things you can now do on autopilot, and through his eyes, it's like an incredible act that you are managing with precision and cleverness.
Our Everyday Genius
I wish we could all feel that kind of a witness to our everyday acts. We deserve it. Out there driving these complex machines, navigating tricky streets, avoiding the potholes. Turning the burner on to boil water for pasta with just the right sensitive touch you've developed over the years for that one tricky side to light up. Knowing that to get that cabinet drawer to open and close without falling off, you have to delicately give it a gentle lift until you feel it give a little in the hinge. Remember that time the plastic doodad of the freezer drawer flew off into the land of no return under the fridge, and you figured out how to get it back on track with a paperclip? Genius.
It's amazing how we create order from chaos, keeping ourselves alive while finding energy for others and even side projects for the pure fun and interest of it.
Last week, I sat with friends who talked about purpose and ambition. Some worried about lacking direction; others felt overwhelmed by how to make space for the driving force of their current creative project. I've traveled that entire spectrum myself, sometimes within a single day.
I can get myself out of the worry spectrum and into a much more peaceful field of optimism with this idea: that like my dad who worked, then supervised, and then just "vised," we have this life force inside of us that—much like the universe it is a part of—just wants to expand. The book gets written, and then you might want to see what it would be like to get it published and share it. You might even manage to get that book published, and then still wouldn’t feel done. You might want to create a new one or a different project altogether to scratch that itch. There's no rest for that pull towards more or better or clearer.
Rising Rather Than Reaching
If you're alive and somewhat in tune with that life force, you're always going to feel a need to reach. I think what makes that reach feel more like rising and less like the free-fall of worry and doubt is loads of self-compassion. I’m talking about silly levels of kind self-talk and appreciation while you try to make something of it all, and also manage to get by. That’s how I would define hope. Without self-compassion, all that trying falls into the exhausting business of striving. To strike that note, we need faith in the wild belief that just being here and alive is whole enough—everything else is just our astonishing creativity in action.
It’s not practical or even advisable to keep an 85-year-old man lurking behind you as you go about your day to cheer you on. I could lend you my dad, but honestly, he can also get pretty grumpy and needs a lot of naps, so that’s not going to help either. We’re going to need to imagine the presence of our own puzzle cheer squad hovering over our shoulder, watching with wonder as we navigate each day with hard-earned skill and inspired creativity. Here’s what my personal puzzle cheer squad is wishing for all of us:
May we witness our everyday ingenuity with pure appreciation.
May we feel worthy of astonished praise when we achieve yet another meal on the table, another gas tank filled.
May an enthusiastic"Yes!" lift our mouths into satisfied smiles each time we fit another piece into the puzzle.
What small act did you accomplish today that brought order to chaos? What ordinary thing can you be satisfied was well done today?
With love,
Tricia
PS:
“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”
― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
PPS:
“None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives.”
― Jane Austen, Persuasion
Exactly what I needed this moment!