When the Plates Wobble: Signals, Not Setbacks
There’s a saying I’ve always carried in the back of my mind: “I’m dancing as fast as I can.”
Another image I’ve borrowed more than once is that of a performer spinning plates — racing from one wobbling rim to the next, arms stretched, praying nothing comes crashing down. Both are pictures of the life most of us are living. Too many demands. Too little margin. Too many moving parts to track without losing ourselves in the process.
But recently, I had a day that reminded me those wobbling plates don’t always have to spell disaster. Sometimes, they’re signals. Sometimes, they’re invitations.
The Tire That Stopped Me
It started with a three-inch screw. I was running errands, rushing between one commitment and the next, when I heard the dreaded thump-thump-thump. A puncture. Three hours at the tire shop later, my day was rearranged against my will.
Normally, that would have irritated me. But instead of treating it as a robbery of time, I realized it had quietly handed me a gift: three hours to think. Three hours with no meetings, no obligations, no distractions — just me, a waiting room, and the hum of background television I could choose to ignore.
What looked like disruption was, in fact, space. I can’t remember the last time I sat with my own thoughts for that long. It didn’t feel like waiting. It felt like permission.
The Bank That Broke the Script
Later that day, I found myself standing in line at my bank. Just ahead, a young father tried to negotiate with the teller while his two small children tugged at his sleeves. His face flushed with frustration as she explained the bank’s new policy. For eight years, he’d been doing things one way. Suddenly, that path was closed. Rent was due. The system he relied on no longer worked.
His anger flared, sharp and public. I could feel the weight of his panic in the air. And I thought: this is what happens when the old script collapses. We’re all creatures of pattern. We lean on what’s familiar because it works — until it doesn’t. Then we’re left scrambling, forced into the uncomfortable problem-solving process we spend most of our lives trying to avoid.
Watching him, I remembered something my grandfather once told me: “If you always follow the same path, you just end up in a rut.”
The bank didn’t care about ruts. Neither does life.
Signals, Not Setbacks
Two moments in the same day: one quiet, one explosive. The tire slowed me down. The bank scene reminded me how violently change can rip the script from our hands. But both were signals.
Disruption isn’t just disruption. It’s data.
It tells us where we’re stuck. Where we’ve let autopilot do too much of the steering. Where we’ve confused comfort with purpose.
And that’s the overlap between disruption and creativity: both ask us to change our perspective. Creativity is not just about making art — it’s about seeing the wobble differently, finding the signal inside the noise.
My creative process is nothing more than the practice of interpreting those signals. Taking the raw material of daily life — a screw in the road, a father’s frustration, a grandfather’s warning — and asking: What does this mean? What might it teach me if I shift my point of view?
That’s what I’m listening for when I write: the signal under the wobble.
The Pearl: Expect Something to Go Wrong
Years ago, after too many long days in business, I rewired one of my deepest expectations: always expect something to go wrong. That way, I was never surprised. And when nothing did? That was a good day.
It sounds pessimistic, maybe even cynical. But I don’t mean it that way. Expecting disruption isn’t surrender. It’s preparation. It’s a way of releasing the illusion of control so you can greet the inevitable wobble without panic.
The truth is, the plates will always wobble. Tires will always puncture. Institutions will always change rules. People will always disappoint. But expecting that doesn’t drain the hope out of life — it frees you to handle the interruptions without being undone by them.
Every wobble carries a signal — if you’re willing to listen for it.
Different Ways to Steady the Plates
Over the years, I’ve gathered small practices that help me — and others — stay grounded when the wobble hits:
Pause and Breathe – Give your body a chance to catch up with your mind. Count to ten if you have to. Reset the tempo.Reframe – Ask: Is this an inconvenience or a catastrophe? Naming the scale reduces the spin.Detach – Remember: This is happening, but I don’t have to carry it. Not every problem is your identity.Flip Expectation – My pearl: expect something to go wrong. It removes the element of betrayal.Micro-Choice – When you can’t change the situation, change your response: tone of voice, words, or where you put your energy.Gratitude Anchor – Even in chaos, there’s usually one small, good thing to hold onto. Name it.Creative POV: Making Meaning From Disruption
At its heart, creativity is nothing but a shift in perspective. It’s the ability to take the same screw in the tire, the same line in the bank, the same words from a grandfather — and see them as signals, not setbacks.
That’s how ruts become paths again. That’s how frustration turns into fuel. That’s how we move from dancing as fast as we can to realizing we don’t always need to dance at all. Sometimes, the plate can wobble, and nothing breaks. Sometimes, the pause is the point.
Invitation
Every day, someone’s plans get derailed. Every week, someone is asked to solve a problem they never saw coming. The question is never whether disruption will happen. The question is always: What will you do with it?
For me, the answer is this:
I try to expect the wobble. I try to listen for the signal. I try to let the shift in perspective show me something I couldn’t see before.
And I wonder: what about you? Do you breathe? Do you count? Do you laugh it off, or file it away as a story to tell later? Maybe your way of steadying the plates is exactly the pearl someone else needs to hear.
If you do, consider sharing it — it may be the pearl that steadies someone else.
