⏱ ~5 min reading
Solomia was given a Rubik's Cube for her birthday. The same one — colored, with six sides, with nine squares on each. Red, blue, green, yellow, orange, white. All already mixed up — the cube arrived already damaged (i.e. solved).
Solomiya was eight and loved puzzles. She already had wooden puzzles, a ball maze, and a "find the pair" game. She put them all together quickly.
The cube seemed light in appearance.
Solomiya sat down on the living room carpet and got to work. She turned left. Right. Up. Left again.
Ten minutes later, the cube was even more mixed.
Half an hour later, Solomiya couldn't even understand what had happened to him. Red squares spread out on all sides like lost ants. Yellow squares were in the middle of one side, and around them were anything.
“It doesn’t work!” Solomiya threw the cube on the floor.
The cube clicked, bounced off the parquet floor and rolled under the sofa.
"I can't do it!" Solomiya exclaimed loudly. "This is the wrong toy!"
The grandmother, who was weaving something in the armchair, turned her head. She said nothing. She calmly stood up, walked over to the sofa, bent down, and picked up the cube. She rubbed it with her sleeve, as if she were wiping her glasses.
Then she sat down next to me on the carpet — next to my granddaughter.
"Solomie," she said quietly. "Do you know what your problem is with this cube?"
Solomiya was angry. She didn't want to listen. But grandma... she's a grandma. Her voice was always attractive.
- In what?
"You fight it. You spin it quickly, without thinking. You get angry when it doesn't work out. And the cube doesn't like that kind of attitude. It gets upset.".
Solomiya squinted.
"Grandma, the cube isn't alive. It can't be hurt.".
— And you try to look at it differently. Imagine that it is alive. That it is a small dragon with six heads. Each head is a different color. And in order for all the dragons to become each of their own color, you need not to fight them. But to talk to them.
Solomiya didn't understand, but she listened.
"Let's try it. I'll show you.".
Grandma took the cube. She turned it slowly—very slowly. At first she looked for a long time. She didn't turn it. She just looked.
"See?" she pointed. "Here are three red squares in a row. If we turn this side, they'll go there. And here is another red one, on the other side. If we turn it the right way, it'll come." Do you understand?
Solomiya watched. She didn't understand anything, to be honest. But the grandmother turned slowly — here the right side, here the top, here the right again.
One red square connected to three others. There were four in a row.
“Oh, oh!” Solomiya was surprised.
— See? Now you have to. Grandma's not very smart about this either. So take it. Just take it slowly. Don't hit the cube. Don't get angry. Look at it.
Grandma gave the cube to Solomia.
Solomiya began. At first, she wanted to spin it quickly again. But she remembered her grandmother's words. She took a deep breath. She stopped. She looked at the cube.
She looked for a long time. Every side. She noticed the connections—this red one next to that one. That orange one—a couple of years ago. Not right away—slowly. Sometimes she turned back because her turns ruined what Grandma had put together.
She had a headache. That's what happens when you think about something difficult for a long time. Her eyes were getting sleepy.
But Solomiya didn't give up. She breathed. She turned. She thought. She turned again.
It lasted a long time. Maybe an hour. Maybe more.
And suddenly—suddenly—one side of her came out.
Red. Completely red. Nine red squares, like icing on a cake, side by side, in three rows.
Solomiya froze. She looked again. She thought, she imagined it.
No. Really red.
"Grandma!" she shouted. "Grandma, look! I did it!"
Grandma came running from the kitchen (she was just putting the kettle on).
"Oh, my sunshine! You're doing great!"
Solomiya shone like a new coin.
The grandmother sat down next to her and hugged her granddaughter.
— See? Patience. You went through «I can’t.» You went through «I want to quit.» You went through «I have a headache.» And you found a way.
"I thought I was completely stupid," Solomiya admitted. "That I would never be able to.".
"Everyone thinks that way at first. Everyone. Only some throw and don't find anything. And you didn't throw. You just learned to talk to the cube, not fight it.".
Solomiya nodded. She held her red side like a medal.
A week later, Solomiya had assembled two sides. Two days later, three. A month later, the entire cube.
It was hard for her. Very hard. But she learned. Not because she's a genius. But because she didn't get mad at the cube.
But the most important thing wasn't the cube itself. The most important thing was what Solomiya learned through it.
When later in school she couldn't solve a math problem, she didn't get angry. She breathed. She watched. She thought. She found a way.
When in third grade she couldn't write beautifully, she didn't cry like the others. She turned the pen slowly. She watched. She found a way.
When she was an adult, at work, she would have a big, complicated problem — she didn't get angry or quit. She breathed. She watched. She thought. She found a way.
This lesson became her secret weapon. At school. At work. In life.
And it all started with a cube that her grandmother wouldn't let her throw forever.
✨ If something doesn't work out, you shouldn't get angry at the subject, but come to an agreement with it ✨