The other day, I threw on a bright pink shirt over a bright orange bathing suit. Not to make a statement—I was just getting dressed.
When I looked in the mirror, I remembered: Pink and orange were supposed to clash.
But they didn’t. They looked great together.
In fact, we’re told so many things don’t go together. Ambition and ease. Clarity and not knowing. Socks and sandals. Comic Sans and credibility. (Okay, that last one might be true.)
But what if that’s a limited lens?
We inherit these ideas as shortcuts. Time-savers. Skip the pink and orange, they whisper.
(But who are they? And who decided they speak for us?)
Sometimes those shortcuts aren’t wisdom—they’re false constraints.
Case in point: Looking for a photo for this post, I found pink and orange everywhere in nature. Not clashing—coexisting.
How many other decisions like that—arbitrary, outdated, unquestioned—are still shaping how we move through the world?
Maybe these rules weren’t just outdated—they were never true.
Good news: Liminal space—the in-between—is the perfect time to question them. You're somewhere unexpected. Disoriented. And in that rawness, things get clearer. You realize: Oh. I thought this couldn’t happen. But it did. And if that rule didn’t hold—what else have I accepted that isn’t true?
When old structures stop applying, the rules go with them. You finally see them for what they are: made up. Which means you can make new ones.
Who decided? What works for me (or us)?
This isn’t just reflection—it’s a prompt to redesign.
So this week, try this:
Notice something you’ve labeled as a “clash.” A tension. A contradiction.
Ask:Who decided these don’t go together? (Or heck, don’t even bother—it doesn’t matter anyway.)
Then try living the “both/and” version— Pink and orange. Stability and change. Safety and desire.
Here are three small experiments to get you started:
More beautiful (and totally not clashing) pink and orange (Safiyah Ganpat)
Pink and orange Getting dressed? Choose two colors that allegedly clash—and wear them together anyway. Bright pink and orange. Red and magenta. Black and navy.
Notice: Does the tension feel loud or energizing? Are you shrinking or standing taller?
Stability and change In a season of flux—between jobs, roles, homes? Or in the midst of a reorg, team shakeup, or growth sprint? Add one intentional anchor.
In your personal life: same coffee shop every morning.
In the workplace: a short Friday note to your team—what’s in motion, what’s unchanged, and what’s ahead. Predictability builds calm—even if the news is mixed.
Notice: Does adding structure make the uncertainty feel more energizing than overwhelming? What opens up when one thing stays consistent?
Safety and desire In a long-term relationship (with a partner, job, or project) that feels more safe than alive? Try reintroducing a little edge. Volunteer to lead something unfamiliar, like your team’s exploration of AI. Add in a new dimension to your week, like a swing dance class with your partner.
Notice: Do safety and desire start to balance? Can comfort coexist with spark?
Once you’ve tried it, ask: Where else might you be enforcing rules no one remembers agreeing to? It might be the most radical thing you do all week. (Except, of course, the pink socks.)
Rewriting the rules is easier with a partner. I help people figure out what really goes together—especially when the stakes are high. Let’s map your—or your organization's—next move:
I’m so glad you’re here! Thank you for joining me in this corner of the world where we’re committed to imperfect sideways steps that get us moving. Together, we’ll make all the sideways, backwards, and forward steps we please until we’re exactly where we hoped to be. Subscribe here:
Thoughtful insights, smart experiments, and a touch of mischief delivered Fridays. I’m Amy Bonsall—sharp questioner, creative nudger, architect of brave experiments, and liminal guide. I help high-achievers navigate the space between what was and what’s next. I’m a former IDEO exec, Harvard Business Review author, and coach to ambitious humans making quiet (and not-so-quiet) shifts. Each week, I send a short note to help you move forward—with clarity, momentum, and just the right amount of mischief.