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I look at the last of the puzzle pieces. There are lots of them, all the same shade of blue. I have, once again, saved the hardest for last.
Do I stop here? Give up? There’s no real reason to finish. I’ve already marvelled at the patterns of the New York streets and noted the scarcity of green parkland.
A memory from many years ago is triggered. She said if she reaches Page 20 of a book she will read to the last page even though she’s not enjoying it. In her mind, twenty pages was a commitment that should be valued and validated, an investment of time that shouldn’t be wasted. I wasn’t impressed and saw only the lost opportunity, lost productivity.
How can I justify finishing when simply finishing is not enough? I’m already comfortable with the idea of an unfinished puzzle and previously posted on the topic.
And I found my answer while remembering past posts.
The creative brain requires these challenges. Attention is focussed. Problems are solved. Even using my left hand is a neuron booster. There is no waste.
I look down at the last of the puzzle pieces and notice the subtle yet significant differences between them. Each one is unique; there is only one spot into which each will fit. My interest returns.
I wonder if neurons are boosted by reading a book you don’t like?
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