The Relationship between Rules and Dreams
As a young boy, every evening I had to set the dinner table for 7 p.m., take the garbage can outside, and carry water bottles upstairs from the basement. Every Saturday, I had to clean my room and collect the dirty clothes in the bin to be washed. This was normal for me; the rules were communicated calmly, and the reasons were explained. Early in life, I experienced the consequences of my behavior, good and bad. Coming home late at night meant no car the next day; cutting the grass meant access to the fully tanked car. While some rules seemed redundant and meaningless growing up, I slowly came to appreciate their educational effect on me. I behaved and functioned well in environments like sports clubs, music groups, and summer camps. Experiencing the consequences of my behavior made me more observant and analytical later in life.
In larger social environments like school and the workplace, rules become regulations, applicable only in a specific environment to a particular group of people. In school, whoever fits in best and stays within the rules would be considered a good student, independent of their contributions and behaviors beyond the four walls of the classroom. Many rules felt outdated, and I wondered why we still follow old traditions, even though the world has moved on and manners have changed. I found rules, regulations, and traditions in many areas of my life—even hobbies, relationships, and creativity. Some had benefits for my skill development, social behavior, feeling of common sense, and ability to be pragmatic.
As I reflect on my upbringing, I begin to realize how rules also have a limiting effect on me. As a young boy, the lights were out at a certain time, even though I was in the middle of an important drawing. Playing the drums was only allowed for several hours of the day, and in the moment of a breakthrough of a specific beat, I had to stop. During my apprenticeship, I was often held back from developing more skills because the rule book said that in the first year, you should focus on XYZ. I was not encouraged to dream about being the next master drummer or winning the Tour de France. There was no space to imagine a new optical store concept beyond the already-known format. It felt like rules, made by people with authority over me or based on traditions, were in the way of my ideas and development. The way I see myself and my talents might have been narrowed by the rules and regulations I grew up with. A great idea needed to be realistic, and I was always encouraged to be goal-oriented. While this has its benefits, I began to realize its limitations. I’ve always dreamt of performing with Jay-Z at a live gig to this day :) This might never happen and I’m not necessarily taking steps to get there but it doesn’t invalidate the dream — why not let dreams stay as dreams?
I mostly only do things in a personal or professional context when I know what the outcome will likely be. It can feel uncomfortable to begin something without knowing where it’s headed or what it will result in. Or the expectation could be so big and unrealistic that I question the purpose and validity of what I am doing. When we thought about where we would live, we asked ourselves, “What if we lived in Paris? What would life be like?”. After more than ten years at my previous company, I thought, “If I work freelance, how could I benefit from the flexibility?”. And after I started writing more, I wondered, “What if I start a newsletter and share it with my friends?”. All of those questions have one thing in common: they are open-ended. I am learning to approach work, hobbies, connections, and projects without knowing where they will lead or even where they will end. I don’t need to define goals or plan specific outcomes to contact new people. Yet, in my imagination, I can see how certain connections could lead to an inspiring conversation and the possibility of working together. I’m more sensitive to my imagination. However, my lessons in a more structured environment are valuable. Setting goals is important, and not all dreams come true just because I can imagine them. I don’t want to erase my past experiences or unlearn rules. But it drives my curiosity and gives me comfort and confidence to approach life and work more open-ended.
When I visit a museum, the relationship between rules and dreams becomes more visible. I'm inspired by the sculptures and how they were made, especially when tools were limited or had to be invented for a specific purpose. The techniques to carve out a shape from wood or stone follow certain rules and require practice. When I try to understand the artist’s point of view for a specific piece or a collection, it often leads to the artist’s imagination, dreams, and perspectives on the world. When Constantin Brâncusi built the "Endless Column," he used the knowledge and laws of structural engineering and imagination to create a symbol of infinity for the infinite sacrifice of the Romanian soldiers. Could this be the formula to achieve great work? For example, the MP3 player and later on the iPod were invented based on the imagination that people could carry huge amounts of songs in their pockets. Yet, someone needed to figure out how to make the device capable of storing and playing digital media such as audio.
I get excited by exploring the relationship between rules and dreams and energizing people around me to enroll in my ideas and projects. Let's imagine processes, develop outside conventions, find solutions for complex problems, and dream together.
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