Achieve nirvana through crosswords

If you're looking for a form of relaxation that doesn't involve yoga or sweat lodges, drugs or distilled gin, I have the answer. It's inexpensive, can be done in the privacy of your home, and doesn't require any new clothing. People who participate in it swear by it. And more than 100 of them came out one recent Saturday afternoon when a blizzard was imminent, just to do it.

They came to a local library to work crossword puzzles. Like sky divers or bird-watchers, this rarefied group has found something that got to the core of its being. These people call it the ultimate form of relaxation, and often the most serene moment of their day when working one. This particular Saturday was the 11th Annual Crossword Competition hosted by Will Shortz, the iconic puzzle editor for The New York Times, whose loyal followers wouldn't miss one of these events for all the words in the OED. These people talk puzzle, think puzzle, read puzzle blogs and even construct puzzles.

When I arrived at the library that day, I found a room of exuberant men and women packed in like sardines, surely in violation of the fire code, just to compete for crossword puzzle glory. Is there something I didn't fully understand about crossword people? I knew why I liked crosswords. Could these people possibly be like me? I admit that I am a crossword puzzle addict.

Wanting to get to the bottom of this obsession, I asked around.

"Why do you work crosswords?" I questioned one attendee, who grinned from ear to ear as if he had just cashed in a CD that had tripled.

"It's more relaxing than an Easy-Boy recliner, which my wife won't allow in the house," he said.

"This is my seventh tournament. Puzzles export me to nirvana," said one dreamy contestant.

"Working puzzles gives me a buzz as if I'd had a couple of strawberry margaritas, but without the hangover," said another.

"Crosswords are more effective than Zoloft," said a woman who had tried almost everything.

"All is right with the world when I'm doing a puzzle," another competitor offered.

Their answers seemed to be unanimous. Working crosswords promoted relaxation and well being. Some of them wanted even more. The Holy Grail for some was constructing a puzzle and publishing it in the Times. That was the pinnacle of puzzle success. A blank crossword puzzle could send these people into a rhapsody of ecstasy. They were my kind of people, book readers, word mavens and language lovers.

So there I was that day, as enthusiastic as the others, waiting for the event to begin. Finally, like a coach before game time, Shortz rallied the impatient crowd. Volunteers passed out the puzzles to be solved, and like Olympic runners waiting for the gun to go off, the competitors sat silently rapt. When Shortz shouted "Go!" pencils began to move, some swifter than others. Mine not so fast. After all, most were puzzle proficient and I was a humor columnist. Not a fair match. But I was determined to test myself against these experts. All for naught though, I didn't win, place or even show, but I had a great time, and, yes, felt very, very relaxed when I finished my third puzzle. Even though I couldn't match their solving skills, I understood that I was not alone.

So if you need a way to chill out, or feel that the world is heading toward lunacy, don't reach for the wine closet or the medicine cabinet, open up the newspaper (I see you still read at least one), and turn to the crossword page. Shut off all electronic gadgets, sit back in a soft chair and experience the bliss of challenging yourself to a good old-fashioned puzzle. The first clue just might be "a nine-letter word for serenity." And the answer, of course, would be "crossword."

Barbara L. Smith is a published playwright and corporate speechwriter. She welcomes comments at blsmith283@aol.com.