I love puzzles, challenges, the feeling that you get when you

Jason Collins once spoke these words of resilience: “I love puzzles, challenges, the feeling that you get when you have an obstacle and go through adversity, finding the strength to go on.” Though simple in phrasing, they resound with the eternal wisdom of the human spirit. They remind us that life is not meant to be a smooth path, but a labyrinth of trials, each turn demanding patience, courage, and endurance. It is in meeting these trials that a soul is forged into something greater than it was before.

The image of the puzzle is profound. A puzzle is confusion shaped into order, chaos waiting to be assembled into clarity. Life itself is such a puzzle, with pieces that do not always seem to fit until perseverance reveals their place. Collins finds joy in this, for he knows that the challenge itself is not a curse but a gift: it sharpens the mind, steadies the heart, and trains the spirit. So too did the ancients delight in trials. The Stoics, like Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, taught that the obstacle is not an enemy but the way itself—the test by which we grow.

The mention of challenges speaks to the eternal rhythm of growth. From childhood to the grave, every stage of life offers its trials. The athlete faces the field, the scholar the problem, the leader the crisis. Each challenge is an invitation: to rise higher, to grow deeper, to learn one’s own hidden strength. Without challenges, we would remain soft and untested; with them, we are made resilient, capable of bearing burdens not only for ourselves but for others.

History is filled with examples of those who found greatness only through adversity. Consider Nelson Mandela, who endured decades of imprisonment, stripped of freedom and comfort, yet emerged unbroken, his spirit tempered like iron in the furnace. His struggle was no different from Collins’s in essence, though greater in scale: both speak of facing what seems insurmountable, enduring the pain, and walking forward with renewed purpose. Without adversity, Mandela would have remained unknown; through adversity, he became a symbol of freedom to the world.

And then Collins speaks of strength—not the strength of muscle alone, but the inner power that compels a person to rise when they have every reason to fall. This strength is born not in comfort, but in hardship. The oak grows sturdy not in gentle breezes, but in fierce winds that force its roots deep into the earth. In the same way, every soul discovers its own true power only when confronted by resistance. To “go on,” as Collins declares, is the true victory—not the absence of pain, but the decision to endure in spite of it.

The lesson is clear: do not flee from your obstacles or curse your adversity. Embrace them as your teachers, for they will grant you the wisdom and strength no easy life can bestow. Each trial you face is a stepping-stone across the river of life; each puzzle solved reveals not only the picture before you, but also the capacity within you. Look upon challenges as sacred rites of passage, for through them you are transformed.

So let Collins’s words endure as teaching for all generations: to love the puzzles, to welcome the challenges, to endure the adversity, and to discover the hidden strength within. In this way, life ceases to be a burden and becomes an adventure. And those who walk this path will not only overcome their obstacles but will emerge radiant, as living proof that the human spirit was made not for ease, but for triumph.