THE RUBIK’S CUBE COMPLEX

Growing up, I was never the "smart kid." In fact, I remember in grade 10 or 11 when I got the highest mark in class on a biology test (95 or 96%), and when the teacher announced it, the class chuckled—myself included. I wasn’t really an academic. I was the one whose papers got crumpled at the bottom of my bag and always had excuses for why my homework wasn’t done. I would also tell my parents that Parent-Teacher meetings weren’t necessary, saying, “Nah, I don’t think you need to go to those,” whenever they asked if there was anything they needed to know—only because I knew the feedback would be about how I needed to be more attentive with my work. I coasted through school. And I hate to admit that.

When I was six or seven, I received my first Rubik’s Cube as a gift. I think it was for Christmas because I remember my brother and sister also getting one. I had no idea how to solve it—what a random gift. No one around me knew either. So what the heck? Needless to say, it collected dust. Lots of it.

When I found it again, I did what every wannabe-bragger does with those things—I took the stickers off and re-stuck them to make it look like I had completed it. See? Coasting. I convinced myself that I didn’t have the right type of brain, that I was too dumb to solve a Rubik’s Cube, so I never really tried.

Throughout my schooling, a few people would pop up who could complete them, and while I greatly admired them, I convinced myself that I couldn’t—and never would—be able to do it.

Fast forward about 15 years, I met someone who could solve a Rubik’s Cube in two minutes. They did their very best to teach me, but again, I convinced myself that I "just don’t have the brain for it. It’s a clever-maths-people thing."

A couple of months later, on a random family holiday to Cape L’Agulhas Nature Reserve, my sister’s partner pulled out a Rubik’s Cube. As I watched him solve it, I thought, "Ah yeah, clever-maths-people thing."

I made a comment about math or numbers, and he told me it was just patterns. He showed me a sequence or two. As a very visual/practical learner, I needed to watch intently and repeat the movements. I learned the first two, nailed them, then moved on. I learned the next couple, nailed those too, and kept going.

There are a number of sequences to solving a Rubik’s Cube, and once you get the hang of them, no matter how messed up it is, it’s pretty solvable.

Within a couple of hours, I had learned, practiced, and finally solved the Rubik’s Cube.

So? Faye… seriously? It’s just a Rubik’s Cube…

You see, this isn’t about the damn toy.

What I actually did in a matter of hours was shatter my own perception of myself. I destroyed the narrative that I was “too stupid” to complete a Rubik’s Cube. I must have bounded around that holiday house with joy, exclaiming, “I ALWAYS THOUGHT I WAS TOO DUMB TO DO THIS THING!!”

I had put a limitation on myself. I had indoctrinated myself, convincing myself that I was too dumb, not smart enough, and incapable of doing something that is actually fairly straight forward.

Sitting with a completed Rubik’s Cube on my lap and a smile on my face, I started to ponder my own mind—what else had my limiting beliefs held me back from? I thought about my goals, the biggest ones I have, and what limitations I put on myself that stop me from achieving them. Are these limitations proverbial Rubik’s Cube’s?

What else am I limiting myself from? What doors am I keeping locked—when I actually have the key?

When was the last time you proved yourself wrong? Your negative self? The version of you that says you can’t do something because of limiting beliefs?

We all have that voice. The true battle is telling it to shut up and allowing your positive voice to be louder.

Smash those limiting beliefs and do what you want to do. You are capable.

I want to see you win.