"Too Much Stability Means We're Not Trying Hard Enough"

I just typed that sentence in an iChat conversation, and it suddenly seemed far more applicable than just in the context it was intended.

So often, it seems like I (and everyone else I know) is striving to reach equilibrium. We want a day where we can "just relax." We want all the bills to be paid, the work to be done and the hard questions to be answered. (Hell, we even strive to ensure our Twitter friends are numbered the same as our followers.)

We want stability.

Fortunately, we rarely have it. Because when we do, a funny thing happens: we get complacent. And last time I checked, it was necessity, not complacency, that was the mother of invention.

Embrace Your Broken Pieces

I'm in the worst financial shape of my life.

I'm in relatively good shape health-wise. I have a good group of friends. I have a supportive family. I have a girlfriend who loves me despite my regularly asinine behavior. And I have this web series that continues to grow in all directions.

If I weren't embarrassingly broke, I'd be bored off my ass. Because being broke means I need to bust my ass and get as much done as possible to create new solutions to this problem.

I could say the same thing if I were ill, or lonely, or single, or working a job
I despised -- and I've been in each of those situations before. But the same methodology would still apply: my need to improve upon an existing trouble is the motivation that will lead me to new creative, social, economic and experiential endeavors.

I won't be able to solve my problems sitting at home. Or working alone. Or making the minimum possible effort and being otherwise content with my unsatisfying present situation.

Instead, I'll be inventing all kinds of harebrained schemes. I'll be taking risks and pushing myself to the edge. I'll be meeting people I never would have cause to talk to if I didn't need to track them down. And I'll be learning more about myself, and this wonderful world we live in, through my response to adversity than I ever would learn by waking up every day in a state of absolute contentment.

It may not be pretty, and it may not be the most zen-like approach to life, but it's what I have right now. And that's exciting.

It's our broken pieces that set us free.