Life is like Tetris.
Really.
Some pieces fit. And some do not.
We eagerly await each misshapen piece as it falls from the sky, and as it falls at an alarmingly accelerated rate, we lay down those pieces as our foundation the best we can.
We look up in anticipation of the next piece of the puzzle. What will we be given? How will we use it? Will it fit the way we need it to... the way we want it to?
Some pieces fall from the heavens and slide into the valleys as though they were always meant to fill those voids. These blocks make sense, they are a smooth and shiny YES giving us affirmation that we are moving in the right direction.
And some of those pieces just don't make sense anywhere.
Sometimes we look up and we find ourselves face to face with a piece of the puzzle that just doesn't fit. We look for a place to hide it or disguise it; sometimes we try to jab it in a corner or fling it unobtrusively into other pieces, though they don't make any sense in those places either.
But it's the best we can do with what we are given. It's just the best we can do.
.........Some pieces fit together better than others.........
And honestly, once we have turned that rapidly descending piece around in the air 5 or 6 times desperately hoping it will swan dive amicably and pleasantly (and maybe even beautifully?) into place, there is little more we can do.
The pieces of the puzzle will fall. And sometimes there is no use fighting the blocks that don't fit. Because they either do or they don't.
A wise Russian princess once said to me that when something is going to work it just will. Effortlessly. Easily. It will just work. And if we must try so hard, well, it probably won't. It's not supposed to....Trying to fit a square into a circle? Try as we might, it's not going anywhere. Why do we fight so hard to make the ill-fitting pieces fit? Human nature. We want the impossible. We want order. We fight the chaos.
And then we must embrace the chaos. It is a beautiful thing.
When more and more pieces stop fitting, the blocks build up until the complications reach the sky. We twist and we turn and we writhe and we look for ways to fix the poor turns and ill-landings that we've designed on our own, and the pieces fall faster and faster with more intensity until we reach:
GAME OVER.
The pieces tell a story. They are our own pieces. It is our story.
Sometimes the game is just over. It is time to start over. We tried to make the pieces fit, and well, heck, they just didn't.
But there is always the next game.
And the next high-score to beat.
And when those pieces do fall magically and effortlessly into the right places, life is sweetly ours to enjoy
round
after
round.
