• rubik’s cube •

• rubik’s cube •
I want a Rubik’s Cube:
not a ‘knock-off’, but an original.
Rubik never got rich,
with his thingamajiggy,
but he made a lot of nudnick nerds happy –
like me –
and I find that trippy,
and fantastical,
bordering on hilarity.

Twenty seven moves
is all it ever takes
to solve a Rubik’s Cube conundrum,
or, so they say.
And he, like me,
yes, Rubik himself,
wanted nothing more,
than to figure the damn thing out,
without a key,
or someone (or something),
whispering in his ear,
“down two, and a left-hand twist,”
or whatever, to figure it out, yes –
get this –
to solve his own puzzle,
after creating the thing.

Can you believe it?
He imagined “the box”,
and struggled with rubber bands,
and bits of wood,
and finally,
after Herculean effort,
got it to get the whatsit,
to negotiate itself,
block-wise,
without exploding,
into it’s component parts,
and to show it’s color-assigned sides,
all color collaborated,
one happy day.

And,
got it to work to perfection,
and
with his architectural students,
to encourage,
intuitive problem solving,
within spacial relationships,
and, to teach that we, each of us,
have a genius
problem-solver within us,
he shared it,
to demonstrate –
and still, after all that,
Rubik himself, yes, he, too –
of how to get those
colored sides to meet up,
congruously,
he had no clue.

He had to figure it out,
on his own,
and finally did,
and what a feeling of accomplishment,
ensued.
I find that so wonderfully informing,
how ’bout you?

I am a nudnick’s nudnick,
in a nerdy sort of way:
I want the pleasure
of sorting things out, myself.
I don’t want unsolicited intervention: no unwanted help, for me.
I don’t want things, easy.
‘Easy-peasy’,
though, convenient –
involving far less hair-pulling,
and considerably fewer
expletives, and epithets,
and dancing about
one’s living room
shouting, and hating
all things, problematic,
in my underthings –
well, frankly –
holds not so much appeal for me,
as opposed to,
say,
the answer,
that comes,
like a flash,
after a healthy bout
involving abjectly
tearing one’s clothes,
and of rolling in ashes,
dejectedly –
after a week or so,
of heady heights,
and deep emotional plunges,
of gastronomical upheaval,
and sleepless nights,
and the casual course,
of course,
(it goes without saying,)
of flailing, and weeping,
and of feeling completely
fatuous,
and ridiculous,
when I finally see, what,
had I been able to see,
was all along,
a thing of utter simplicity.

Or, perhaps,
I exaggerate.
To do your own thing,
it’s fun,
is what I mean.
So, there’s that.

I don’t want perfect happiness,
I want the opportunity.
I want to sort it.
I want to wake up
wanting something,
or somewhere,
or someone,
so badly,
that it makes me want,
get out of bed, no leap!
and scramble into my clothes,
and start tearing, daily,
through the workshop of my mind,
from wanting –
but not before I’ve ‘dreamed’ –
on the thing,
or place,
or the lively, lovely someone,
and have visited the gratitude,
and satisfaction,
and sheer relishing,
of seeing
with my inner eye,
the sweetest path to take,
for exploration’s sake.

I want to have,
a love, a joy,
an exuberance for life,
from yearning,
for longing,
or not at all…

…or not,
as the case may be.
Hm…

Then, again,
I’m all for lunch,
about now,
it’s been a long day…
Was that, “down two,
and a twist to the left,”
did you say?
~ Tim Burchfield
3/7/16

20160307-152647.jpg

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2 thoughts on “• rubik’s cube •

  1. This is very fine work. And I am in total agreement with you about where satisfaction is to be found – it’s in the search, the inspiration, the celebration on the finding.

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