As I sat on a nearly empty train cart, I noticed a small boy who was able to do something I have attempted many times to do but was unable to complete. At his tender age of eight or nine, the boy passionately twisted and turned a Rubik's cube with his fingers. He knew the exact steps to solve the puzzle in a matter of seconds. The boy went around with the cube from cart to cart challenging people to scramble the Rubik's cube for him to solve in return for spare change. As he approached me, he stated that he had received the “magic” cube two years ago, and he had learned to solve the cube all by himself. After I watched the boy solve the cube multiple times, I handed him my last five dollars and he went on his way.
My stop eventually arrived and as I got off the train, I had an urge to buy myself a Rubik's cube. The image of the small boy traveling through the train was embedded in my mind and had inspired me to perfect the skill that the small boy possessed. I desired the ability to solve this mysterious puzzle. Obtaining the cube was exciting however this excitement soon turned into a frustrating despair. Before disarranging the puzzle I realized that I had to be careful for once I ruined the cube it would be impossible to return it to its original form.
I wanted to elaborate on the puzzle, I wanted to be able to make many turns without the fear of messing up so I started by writing down the moves that I took in order to bring it back to its proper location, by this point my relationship with the cube had started to develop. By writing the steps I took and simply repeating it backwards I could solve the cube, unfortunately that was not enough. I knew that if I wanted to be as good as the boy on the train, I had to sooner or later destroy the entire pattern risking the perfection of the cube.
I ruined the pattern on the cube. Gazing at the disassembled cube, I started to feel resentment towards the cube; I was unable to solve it. After working on the cube for a while, I left it on the bottom drawer of my desk and left it there sitting for about six months, I then encounter the cube once again, and this time I hesitated to pick the cube up. Gently grasping went back to my small tricks and my small shortcuts to getting certain pieces to move where I wanted them to be.
My passion to solve the cube had develop due to a boy on the train and had been motivated by myself interest. With practice I have learned all sorts of algorithms and have found a way to solve the cube in less than two minutes. I look at the cube and hold it in my hands, knowing it represents me and society. The cube is the world and every single unit is an individual society. I know that like the cube people can scramble society forty quintillion different ways, but eventually I am able to bring it back to where it needs to be. The cube I hold in my hands as I write this essay reminds me that as hard as something seems, nothing is impossible. Solving the Rubik’s cube reminds me that with some skill and a lot of passion I will get to my final destination.