I don’t play games. I’m a pretty reluctant participant to those ice breaking activities we all experience in professional development, the days we head back to school in the fall, and now even on the ever-constant Zoom meetings. And I don’t own any jigzaw puzzles.
At least I didn’t. Until last week when the constant sameness of the stay-at-home, work-at-home, play-at-home routine drove me in search of novelty–in the form of a jigsaw puzzle.
As a disclaimer, I did play games as a kid. I did puzzles as a kid. My own children played games and put puzzles together. But game playing, as a family activity–as an adult activity is really not a part of my everyday life.
But there was a puzzle to purchasing a puzzle. They are obviously in demand right now. Amazon is delivering puzzles in July. Target had none in stock. But I did find one that I could order online at Barnes and Noble and pick up in the store near my house. My husband thought I was crazy when I came home with the puzzle–but he’s a good sport so we cleared some space on the table (we each have a table as our home offices) and opened the box.
There’s something oddly soothing about looking through hundreds of tiny interlocking pieces in search of a straight edge. It’s both mindless and intentional. Stimulating and calming. Purposeful and aimless. We found ourselves shifting roles, one of us searching, one of us building and then trading. Patterns began to emerge and all those bits of color, pieces of words, and abstract shapes began to take on meaning and become recognizable as parts of a bigger whole.
I’m looking for that same sense of recognition to make sense of the disparate pieces that now constitute work and life during a global pandemic. Shutting down and sheltering in place has been scary and stressful, but began with a sense of temporary. As we stretch into the third month and looking to the future feels like looking into the brand new box of a 1000 random pieces, “normal” and whole feels so far away.
It was hard to grasp finishing the school year without being face to face with my students. It’s harder still to imagine starting a new school year meeting my students through a computer screen. Or teaching students in shifts and keeping them at arm’s length. And maybe hardest of all, just not knowing what the next day, the next week, the next month will mean for all of us as we navigate so much unknown…with the threat of disease and death attached to all we don’t know.
So for now, I’m making sense of jigsaw puzzles while I am not able to make sense of the world. We finished that first puzzle today, enjoying the satisfaction of setting those final pieces into place to complete the picture.
New puzzles have been ordered and we’ll take this one apart tomorrow, careful to make sure that all the pieces get back into the box. And we’ll offer it up to family and friends, giving someone else a chance to make sense of 1,000 pieces.
In these puzzling time, I’ll be doing some more puzzling.
Some of our beaches reopened this week–much to my delight. I’m back to walking the shoreline as often as possible (when the tide allows walking room that fits my work schedule). On Monday morning I noticed the mucky, murky waves…and remembered that we are in the midst of a red tide. A red tide is an algae bloom and all that muck is red algae.
During the day, the red tide is not particularly appealing…but at night, it’s spectacular! Last night we headed the beach after sunset, in the dusky light before darkness comes. We were surprised at the number of people at the beach–it had been a gloomy day and there was plenty of cloud cover. But then, people were not there for the sun…they were there for the light!
As we parked we noticed lots and lots of surfers heading to the beach. People kept their distances, but one glance at the waves told the story of why they were at the beach as darkness was settling over the sea. As waves crashed, the water glowed brilliant blue!
We watched surfers soaring through the electric blue of the waves, waders and swimmers trying to catch up to the light. Walkers and gawkers in their coronavirus masks kept their distances and tried to capture this bioluminescent phenomenon with their cameras.
I’m always reminded that I need to work on my night photography technique when I get these spectacular photo ops after the sun sets. But I keep trying anyway. Even if the photos don’t begin to capture nature’s beauty, they do give a glimpse into the wonders of bioluminescence. And it was a wonderful break from staying at home in my neighborhood!
What a light show!
On the last day on National Poetry Month, on Poem in Your Pocket Day, I found myself without inspiration for poetry writing. So like all good writers, I picked up my phone to look for some inspiration. I started generally on Twitter where I found myself going down the rabbit hole of pandemic politics–lots of uproar about beaches and closures in our state, with the governor “punishing” Orange County for bad quarantine beach behavior during the heat wave last weekend. But I digress (you can see…I did go down that rabbit hole…)
And then I came across my friend Kevin’s blog where I found his pocket sized poem for today about watching. And then I remembered the rabbit–not the rabbit hole–from this morning…and I used Kevin’s words to find some of my own. (Thanks Kevin!)
Pandemic Morning Walk and Watch
Watching the wild rabbit on the black road
Watching the neighborhood walkers
Watching long-eyed snails crawl across almost dry sidewalks
Trying not to squish them
Watching misty dew drops slide down shrubs
Across crosshatched cobwebs
And down my unnecessary sunglasses into my eyes
Watching you as I cross the street
And the rabbit runs.
Our school librarian posted a book spine poetry challenge for my students today. With the poem-a-day challenge, students have done many different kinds of poetry, but I hadn’t introduced book spine poetry–so this was pretty perfect. And I was inspired to create my own book spine poem as well.
I’m not sure if it breaks the rules to add a title…but I did it anyway. Here is my book spine poem:
minds made for stories
open a world of possible
between the world and me
rhythm and resistance
the power of habit
writing and teaching to change the world
What poem will your book spines write?