I like to believe life is little bit like a game of Jenga blocks. Jenga is a classic game of physical and mental ability and what is life if not a giant game with no real victory.
For most people, life begins with a stable foundation. I personally had an extremely uneventful childhood, made exciting only when I lost myself in the world of fiction.
But as time passes an invisible entity sticks its hand in your perfect stack of Jenga blocks and makes a mess of everything. People you thought would support you for a long time suddenly disappear. I remember six years (maybe 7 years) ago when the very first best friend I recollect having decided that it was time we ended our friendship. They said it was for both of our growth and I still wrinkle my nose in disgust when that memory resurfaces. But in hindsight, I am grateful because I did evolve. And sometimes, even when some blocks chip off, the building doesn’t necessarily shake.
People came and left as they pleased, as if my life was the children’s park around the corner for them to visit on the occasional weekend. The invisible hand prodded slabs out of my pile and the same hand placed them on the top. Because that is how a Jenga tower grows in size. And perhaps, the invisible hand took me as a slab and placed it on someone else’s pile. And hopefully, I played a role in shaping another human by ceasing to exist in their life.
I was in 9th grade when I truly ever felt alone and then later again in 11th grade and even the silliest of things become beyond horrifying when no one seems to hold your metaphorical hand. Not to mention that I managed to break down into tears at every possible moment. The lesson here- because everything apparently has to have a lesson- is that even when you are shaking, on the verge of falling apart, things work out eventually. But for that to occur, you have to just keep placing the damn wedges on each other. Spoiler alert: Sometimes, things don’t work out and the pieces do crumble, but fun fact: You have all the time in the world (actually an average human life time is 75 years) to play this game all over again.
But despite all the scary quivering, some things don’t actually change. The very base of your tower is a constant and if you do not have a constant, I do hope you find one soon enough. You fall in love, make friends, share a family, add all the happiness, nostalgia and old books to the mix and make a base so concrete, even the invisible entity can’t budge it. And this gets more important as your tower becomes higher, this base keeps you grounded.
I had a teacher in 8th grade that reminds of this invisible entity that plays god; I didn’t like her very much but I will always be grateful for everything she has done for me and in some rare ways, continues to do so. I think the invisible entities are the fates and the Jenga tower is my life. Occasionally, life is the annoying non existing invisible hand and I am the Jenga tower.
So many of these comparisons are a stretch, a last ditch attempt to salvage something publishable which truly reflects a good part of me and my life. Desperation is a good part of Jenga, I think. I say I think because I don’t truly know. The most painfully obvious resemblance between Jenga and life is the fact that even though I like to pretend otherwise, I don’t know much about either of them.