This list essay was born out of The Art of Noticing workshop by Ankita Shah, during an exercise to write about an object that doesn’t belong. I chose a bamboo puzzle piece awarded to me by Amazon on filing a patent. I wrote the following essay from the perspective of the award.
- Does it even matter what I’m made of or what I represent? People treat me like I’m a big deal. Some even try to collect pieces like me to build walls, castles, and accolades. But honestly, I wish they’d look closer and see me for what I really am: a reflection, a mirror into themselves.
- When I first arrived at Disha’s desk, I thought I’d found my forever home. A place to belong. But I quickly realized I didn’t fit here. She doesn’t value me, not really. Then again, she doesn’t seem to value much in her life right now.
- After all the effort it took to earn me, I thought I’d matter. But now I wonder, does my worth come from others, or does it come from within me?
- I sit. I observe. I scream, unheard. I listen, unnoticed. I sleep, I dream. I want, I wither. But have you noticed me, Disha? Do you see me, longing to matter, to remind you of why I’m here?
- Life here is chaotic and beautiful. I watch as Disha juggles endless meetings, typing fast, mentoring others, and learning to strum her ukulele. Her ukulele sits just a few inches away from me. I envy it. We’re both made of bamboo, cut from the same essence, shaped by skilled hands. But while it brings her joy, I go unnoticed. As if my purpose is forgotten. Don’t we share the same potential to inspire?
- She once thought about giving me away. She didn’t say it outright, but I could feel it. I’ve been here long enough to know when I’m not wanted.
- Play or pay. One is freedom, the other is duty. But I am trapped in the middle, neither a toy nor a tool. People expect me to justify my existence, to pay for the space I need. But all I want is to play, to be something carefree and loved.
- Don’t judge me by my shape. Sure, I look like a puzzle piece. I am a puzzle piece. But I’m also an award. A big one, apparently. Yet, I can’t help but wonder, what does “award” even mean? Is “award” just the polite past tense of “a war”? A war fought against time, sleep, and joy. I was forged in the battle of whiteboard and code. But now, here I am, collecting dust, as if my only purpose was to remind Disha of what she lost. I wonder, was it all worth it?
- Still, I hope. I hope to change the vibe on this desk. I want to whisper to Disha: Like your ukulele, I’m born of the same bamboo. I, too, can sing. Together, we can grow through self-compassion and bloom by making peace with who we are.
The objects on our desks, what do they say about us? Forgotten gifts, neglected trinkets, silent witnesses to our lives. This bamboo puzzle piece is more than a corporate keepsake. It’s a reminder to pause, to reflect, and to recognize that value begins with how we see ourselves.