Tetris

A while ago, I downloaded Tetris onto my cell phone, for those in-between times when I’m waiting for whatever reason and needing something to occupy myself. It’s a really old game, quite simple, but mesmerizing. Turn a falling shape every which way so that it will collaborate with other shapes to form a line. My thumbs have gotten pretty nimble because of it.

On one occasion as I was engrossed in Tetris, I realized how intense I was about the whole thing. My determination to make the pieces fit. I was surprised at how irritated I would get if a piece fell out of place. If I didn’t fit where I wanted it to, or worse, if there weren’t any other options and my only choice were to let it fall out of sync with the others. Yet, interestingly, I was also surprised at how relieved I would feel once I realized that the supposedly out-of-sync piece didn’t impede my progress and that it eventually worked out with other falling pieces to come.

Then, I began to see Tetris as an allegory of my life. I’m always so determined to make the pieces fit. And I get upset when they don’t fit together the way I want them to. I just have to keep reminding myself that there are other pieces to come—it’s just that I don’t yet see how they’re all going to work out together.