<p>I slowly ran my fingers along the sides of the object that I held in my hand. Most people called it the Rubik's Cube. Many adventurous souls have at some point spent a minute or two with the Cube, twisting and turning the sides hoping to match the colors on each face. I examined the enigmatic chunk of plastic resting silently between my nimble fingers. All six sides were scrambled, staring back at me through a messy explosion of color. </p>
<p>I remember walking through the toy store a few months prior, noticing the infamous Cube perched upon a lonely shelf. Cube in hand, I sauntered out of the store with a smirk of determination plastered on my face. I remember my first attempts to solve the Cube. The many dents and divots in my wall serve as reminders.</p>
<p>Between homework assignments I would sit at my desk at home and develop solving methods. Wrinkles spread across my forehead as I tried to visualize the various outcomes of certain moves. Id grind my teeth whenever Id look at the Cube in its unsolved state, sickened by its utter lack of cooperation. Every attempt to put an end to the colorful battle that raged on the Cubes faces only resulted in a more vibrant war. My numb, aching fingers couldnt handle any more torture. My desire to solve the Cube began to starve. I hungered for some form of progression. </p>
<p>Weeks later, the Cube began to make sense. Time had elucidated the solution for me, fusing the secrets of the Cube to my mind. Conquering a puzzle had never felt so wonderful before. When I was younger, putting together a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle or figuring out a magic card trick was satisfying enough, but the Cube, to me, was the master of all puzzles. Nothing else brought me the same kind of euphoria. </p>
<p>Leaning back against a lightpost in downtown Portland, I let my mind and muscles relax as my hands methodically began to manipulate the Rubik's Cube. The chaotic clash of colors became an iridescent whirlwind, accompanied by the continuous, rhythmic clicks that spilled out from each turn I made. Twenty seconds had passed before I matched up the colors on all six sides of the Cube. It was done. Someone slipped a dollar bill into my right hand. Looking up, my eyes met the face of a man with a cavernous, gaping void for a mouth.<br>
Ive never met anyone who could solve a Rubiks Cube before, he told me.</p>
<p>I wanted to tell him that the Cube, although intimidating, was merely a puzzle that demanded time and persistence, and nothing more. Careful observation clears the fog of uncertainty enshrouding a sought-after solution. Any given puzzle followed a similar pattern that is what the Cube had taught me. Effort brought answers closer to the mind's eye, no matter how difficult the puzzle or problem was. Smiling at the man, I gave him back his money, telling him that it was best spent elsewhere perhaps on a puzzle of his own to solve.</p>