The Puzzle on the Table: Not Everything Needs to Mean Something

The other day, I bought a puzzle. A panda puzzle, to be exact. Nothing flashy—just the right number of pieces to feel challenging without tipping into frustration. I had this idea to let go of my love for a clear table, pour out its 500 pieces, and leave them there for a week (or until I couldn’t take the clutter anymore). The plan was for it to sit there, quietly asking me—and maybe others in the house—to pick at it whenever we walked by.

Seems straightforward, doesn’t it? Not quite.

I didn’t just want to do a puzzle. I wanted to stretch my brain, find little moments of connection, and create a new focus point in the day. I wanted it to cut through that early morning rush and post-work, post-school fog that can settle over the space and cause us to bump into each other.

But suddenly, this poor panda puzzle wasn’t just a fun diversion.? It was also supposed to be a brain trainer, a mood booster, a way to connect, and maybe even a small act of therapy. Somehow, 500 little puzzle pieces were now carrying the weight of all my big ideas.

As I was talking about this in a coaching session where I was in the valuable role of coachee, I remembered Emily Delaney’s brilliant piece, I’m a Short Afternoon Walk, and You’re Putting Way Too Much Pressure on Me. It was written during a time when a lot of us were at home, trying to make everyday activities carry the weight of our calm. Written from the perspective of the walk, she captured it perfectly:

"I was supposed to be a casual stroll, a chance to stretch your legs and get some fresh air. But somehow I’ve become your therapist, your gym, your mental health break, and your shot at joy all in one. Honestly, it’s exhausting."

When I reread the article after my coaching session, I had to laugh at how perfectly it captured my knack for turning simple acts into meaning makers. A walk isn’t just a walk; it’s a mental reset in disguise. A puzzle isn’t just a puzzle; it’s suddenly responsible for organizing my schedule, fostering deeper bonds, and unlocking creativity.

With the best intentions, maybe you’ll recognize a bit of yourself in this too. My biggest takeaway? Not everything needs to carry meaning. And if there’s meaning to be found, it’ll show up when the moment is right.

The puzzle doesn’t have to change my life - or anything really. It’s okay if it’s just a panda and some pieces scattered on a table. The walk doesn’t have to solve anything. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is let these small acts be exactly what they are—small, simple, good enough.

So the pieces are scattered across my table now, and we’ll see what happens. Maybe it will bring us closer. Maybe it will just be fun. Or maybe it’ll sit there until I can’t stand the mess and scoop it all back into the box.

Either way, it’s okay. After all, not everything needs to mean something.

P.S. It should be noted that the only work completed on the panda puzzle so far is that my daughter has lovingly shaped the 500 pieces into a giant heart.

I mean, if there is meaning in that, she found it before I did.