There’s a certain feeling in the process of solving a hard problem.
For a while, I’m a bit stuck. The problem seems tough. Then I make a neat observation, and a path shows up. That’s when a feeling starts to build up; I realize its existence, but I don’t give it much thought. I just jump down to my solution path like I’m putting my life on it.
The path doesn’t work out. But the feeling keeps my momentum; it makes me unable to stop. It’s not entirely unreasonable; I did indeed see some new things through that path. Surely, I can make more progress.
I want to collect my thoughts and decide what to do next, so I try to suppress the feeling . As if I could. So much for my “methodological problem-solving strategies.” I jot down what I know and stare at it.
Times pass between exploring new paths. Maybe the problem is too hard for me. I did my best already. Perhaps I will come back to this problem in the future. But I am hesitant. I feel a judgement. It’s that feeling . I realize I’ve been interacting with it for a while now. Wait, what even is it? Will I know once I solve the problem?
I keep on chasing. The problem feels so solvable, yet I can’t break it. Only if I could find that one opening. We are very acquianted now, the problem and I. I can almost see through it. The feeling reminds me of this. It won’t let me forget.
I look at it one more time. Then I see it. Something small. I don’t know if this new thing will lead anywhere. But I have a feeling it will.