The puzzling problem with ponderings

I’m in the grips of a dilemma. Oh dear.

But yet I’m strangely glad: I like being in trouble; I like having a problem to solve. This may sound odd. After all, if I’m content with my situation, is there even a problem at all? Technically, no. But I’m not content with my situation, that’s why there’s a problem – what I’m glad of is having the problem. Confused yet? So am I. Is your left arm tingling and do you feel a bit nauseous too? No? Oh, must be just me then.

There are a few reasons why I enjoy a good dilemma. For one thing, it keeps me busy. They say idle hands are the devil’s playthings and this is true. But hands can only do so many things. They’re practical, yes, but they lack imagination. But the mind is limitless in its possibility and an idle mind is capable of no end of trouble. If idle hands are the devil’s playthings, they must be like Hotwheels. An idle mind then is like handing the devil the keys to his dad’s Ferrari.

But it’s more than that. If I were without a problem to mull over, a mental crumb stuck between the teeth of my consciousness to tongue relentlessly, I’m quite sure I would get bored very quickly. And as a good medic, I know that the brain is a muscle – I didn’t say I was a smart medic – and like any muscle, if you don’t use it, you lose it. Like a large proportion of Imperial College, I have vested interest in keeping my mind in peak mental condition and nothing keeps it in shape like a tough, tricksy teaser. It’s like a good round on the bench-press, except without the sweating, straining and short, short shorts in public.

And then there’s the perfect joy that comes when the veil of fog lifts, the fish scales fall away and at once, with the utmost clarity, you can see the solution before your eyes. It’s all so simple – how you didn’t see before is a mystery, but that becomes irrelevant when you marvel at the beauty of it. The giddy euphoria you feel is twofold; not only have you done away that pesky thorn in your paw but because you worked it through all by yourself, it feels doubly good. In that strange microcosm of life that is the morning commute on the Piccadilly line, completing the sudoku is as the sweetest ambrosia. We haven’t created the drugs – or the words – yet to properly describe the high that comes with the mythical feat of cracking the cryptic crossword.

A problem is also a reminder that things can be better. In this sense, predicaments show there is still room for improvement, which is great! No matter how good today is, knowing that tomorrow can be better still is something worth getting out of bed for. Arguably, if life were perfect, without even the smallest of problems, then things could only go downhill – which itself is quite the conundrum! Society only moves forward to get past its successive problems. Stone tablets were great but a bit heavy so we invented paper. Handwritten books were OK but mass dissemination was a bit tricky so we created the printing press. Sexy women are sexy but they don’t like talking to us much in bars so the chat-up line was born.

And the dilemma that spurred all of this? Should I really write an article about dilemmas? On reflection, I don’t think so.