One Peice at a Time
DNA is the building block of life. And Legos are the building blocks of life's lessons. I'm sure if putting together DNA was as simple and accessible as putting together a Lego set we'd solve all manner of world problems and health problems. Yet, there are still few things we'd learn along the way about ourselves.
Admittedly, I am a kid at heart and am not ashamed when it comes to doing anything which revisits my youth no matter how peculiar it may be to another adult. Thus, while Christmas shopping with my friend Colleen last week I decided to buy a Lego set. And not just a simple 30 piece car or truck, but the 200 some piece Arkham Asylum set from the Batman collection.
I ripped open all the clear cellophane bags and let all the pieces large and small clutter my coffee table. I wondered how big, how intricate, and how challenging it would be to build the different parts of the prison, vehicles, etc. I pondered and laughed at how Lego has stayed true to their simple Lego people (you're either sitting or standing; arms are always bent at a 45 degree angle; hands are also formed to grip things) and marveled at some of the new accessories and different designs they've been upgraded with (the heads of the legos are not bright yellow any more, they all have different and respectable skin tone colors). And as I started following the step by step instructions I started seeing the parallels between building toward something and building toward something in your life.
Separating the Pieces
Despite my J tendencies when it comes to Legos I'm all about throwing everything in one pile. As long as I don't lose a piece (see below) I'm ok with there being no flow to what I'm building. What I noticed haphazardly was that the big pieces easily blocked many of the smaller pieces you need to initially build with (in fact most of the things built either began or ended with a big piece leaving all the little ones to be at the core of the structure). I started thinking about how when our larger problems start to consume us in life it's real easy to miss the small things which allow us to focus back on our life and where we're headed. Not that you can ignore the 'big pieces' but there's a time and place to deal with them and if you're constantly keeping them in your view you start to miss out on the day to day smaller tasks and joys which life brings.
Taking Shape
I'm still amazed how Lego creators come up with these designs. As I'm putting together two pieces to start a truck my first thought is, this doesn't look anything like a truck. Even as I'm getting a few steps in, even after adding wheel wells, it doesn't quite start taking shape until the end. There's something magical in those early moments because you're focused on those small steps, on those building blocks and not in a rush to just get it done. Moreover, as you're finishing up you start to appreciate the work you've put yourself through.
Oh, They're All There
When my grandmother was still alive she'd put together jigsaw puzzles. I can't begin to describe to you the let down feeling about finishing a 500 piece puzzle only to see that one piece is missing. The cool with Legos is that rarely (if ever since I cannot say I've experienced it) are pieces missing. Yet, rarely do you have more than 1 or 2 extra pieces and these are usually unimportant to the overall build. When you get down to the last structure or even the last few pieces you start to get a little worried that you're missing some. But somehow, and each time, it magically works out. Life is a lot like that. It's not that you're always gonna have good times but really as things play out in life the pieces start to fall into place. Something which one day you thought was bad, turns out to be great or at least not as bad, a couple days later.
Oh, They're All There pt. 2
The other beauty to this phenomena is that as you're looking for the piece that you need in the large pile of Tetris like blocks you get frustrated when you don't spot it right away. You think "how can it be missing?" or "how am I that dumb that I can't spot a right angle piece which is the only blue brick in the whole batch?" Then you find it. Patience is never the easiest lesson to learn or relearn if you've forgotten it. But it's something which is always good to revisit through activities which may not have specific deadlines (ie building a Lego set) since you have the ability to step away from it for an hour or a day and resume it when your head is more clear. Practicing patience in that arena strengthens us to practice it elsewhere.
Breaking 'em Down
Truthfully with some of the bigger ships, buildings, sets, etc. I didn't take them apart as much as I did with the smaller things (although the Lego police headquarters I had as a kid went through a little Trading Spaces renovation without the eclectic interior designer barking orders at you every three minutes). But the beauty of Legos vs. a model kit is that you can either tear it all apart and rebuild or make something new (or reuse a piece or two in another set). Back in the day Lego used to actually show you what other things you could build and it was always humorous because you'd buy the Viking Death Ship 3000 only to see that one of the things you could use the pieces for was a makeshift tanning salon. Memories and our strengths are a lot like that. My friend Kristin reminded me of that in an e-mail she sent me the other day. She recalled how an earlier memory of our friendship still gives her food for thought to this day. If you don't keep a journal, take some time to write out several good memories, or things you've succeeded at, accomplished, overcome, etc. and keep them in a jar. On a bad day, or in any random moment open up the jar and check one of them out. Remind yourself that no one can take those memories away from you.
I finished Arkham Asylum and it sits atop my entertainment center for now. The four plus hours it took me to put it together was enjoyable and very therapeutic. More reason to invest time (and sometimes money) into a hobby and how hobbies contribute positively to our daily grind.
pb
Admittedly, I am a kid at heart and am not ashamed when it comes to doing anything which revisits my youth no matter how peculiar it may be to another adult. Thus, while Christmas shopping with my friend Colleen last week I decided to buy a Lego set. And not just a simple 30 piece car or truck, but the 200 some piece Arkham Asylum set from the Batman collection.
I ripped open all the clear cellophane bags and let all the pieces large and small clutter my coffee table. I wondered how big, how intricate, and how challenging it would be to build the different parts of the prison, vehicles, etc. I pondered and laughed at how Lego has stayed true to their simple Lego people (you're either sitting or standing; arms are always bent at a 45 degree angle; hands are also formed to grip things) and marveled at some of the new accessories and different designs they've been upgraded with (the heads of the legos are not bright yellow any more, they all have different and respectable skin tone colors). And as I started following the step by step instructions I started seeing the parallels between building toward something and building toward something in your life.
Separating the Pieces
Despite my J tendencies when it comes to Legos I'm all about throwing everything in one pile. As long as I don't lose a piece (see below) I'm ok with there being no flow to what I'm building. What I noticed haphazardly was that the big pieces easily blocked many of the smaller pieces you need to initially build with (in fact most of the things built either began or ended with a big piece leaving all the little ones to be at the core of the structure). I started thinking about how when our larger problems start to consume us in life it's real easy to miss the small things which allow us to focus back on our life and where we're headed. Not that you can ignore the 'big pieces' but there's a time and place to deal with them and if you're constantly keeping them in your view you start to miss out on the day to day smaller tasks and joys which life brings.
Taking Shape
I'm still amazed how Lego creators come up with these designs. As I'm putting together two pieces to start a truck my first thought is, this doesn't look anything like a truck. Even as I'm getting a few steps in, even after adding wheel wells, it doesn't quite start taking shape until the end. There's something magical in those early moments because you're focused on those small steps, on those building blocks and not in a rush to just get it done. Moreover, as you're finishing up you start to appreciate the work you've put yourself through.
Oh, They're All There
When my grandmother was still alive she'd put together jigsaw puzzles. I can't begin to describe to you the let down feeling about finishing a 500 piece puzzle only to see that one piece is missing. The cool with Legos is that rarely (if ever since I cannot say I've experienced it) are pieces missing. Yet, rarely do you have more than 1 or 2 extra pieces and these are usually unimportant to the overall build. When you get down to the last structure or even the last few pieces you start to get a little worried that you're missing some. But somehow, and each time, it magically works out. Life is a lot like that. It's not that you're always gonna have good times but really as things play out in life the pieces start to fall into place. Something which one day you thought was bad, turns out to be great or at least not as bad, a couple days later.
Oh, They're All There pt. 2
The other beauty to this phenomena is that as you're looking for the piece that you need in the large pile of Tetris like blocks you get frustrated when you don't spot it right away. You think "how can it be missing?" or "how am I that dumb that I can't spot a right angle piece which is the only blue brick in the whole batch?" Then you find it. Patience is never the easiest lesson to learn or relearn if you've forgotten it. But it's something which is always good to revisit through activities which may not have specific deadlines (ie building a Lego set) since you have the ability to step away from it for an hour or a day and resume it when your head is more clear. Practicing patience in that arena strengthens us to practice it elsewhere.
Breaking 'em Down
Truthfully with some of the bigger ships, buildings, sets, etc. I didn't take them apart as much as I did with the smaller things (although the Lego police headquarters I had as a kid went through a little Trading Spaces renovation without the eclectic interior designer barking orders at you every three minutes). But the beauty of Legos vs. a model kit is that you can either tear it all apart and rebuild or make something new (or reuse a piece or two in another set). Back in the day Lego used to actually show you what other things you could build and it was always humorous because you'd buy the Viking Death Ship 3000 only to see that one of the things you could use the pieces for was a makeshift tanning salon. Memories and our strengths are a lot like that. My friend Kristin reminded me of that in an e-mail she sent me the other day. She recalled how an earlier memory of our friendship still gives her food for thought to this day. If you don't keep a journal, take some time to write out several good memories, or things you've succeeded at, accomplished, overcome, etc. and keep them in a jar. On a bad day, or in any random moment open up the jar and check one of them out. Remind yourself that no one can take those memories away from you.
I finished Arkham Asylum and it sits atop my entertainment center for now. The four plus hours it took me to put it together was enjoyable and very therapeutic. More reason to invest time (and sometimes money) into a hobby and how hobbies contribute positively to our daily grind.
pb
posted by Peter Brooks at 11:26 PM
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