I’ve always been a rules person. Take a number; hands inside the car at all times; no sweatpants outside. I respect rules.

But sometimes the rules don’t serve us. Sometimes the rules form tiny little parallel fences that keep us on our tight little paths. Sometimes, you kinda want to wear sweatpants outside.

Rules fulfill a purpose by helping us maintain order within our lives and beyond. Imagine a busy fast-casual restaurant where the line had never been invented.

Terrifying, right?

But sometimes rules keep us comfortable, complacent. Sometimes we use them not as guidelines, but as crutches. As bases for “can’ts.”

I’m not an advocate for chaos. I think civilization is one of humankind’s greatest achievements.  Or near-achievements, given that we don’t all seem to be quite civilized.

But I digress.

Once in a while, we need to take stock of our rules. Of our shoulds and shouldn’ts and musts and mustn’ts. We need to look at which rules serve us, and which rules serve as comfortable barriers. As nice, cozy self-imposed limitations.

None of us are planted in pots. We have the freedom to grow out and up and beyond.

We need only give ourselves the permission.