There is something interesting about the little rules we create for ourselves and for one another. They often begin as reasonable solutions to a particular situation, but over time, we can forget the circumstances that created them and start treating them as permanent truths. A funny conversation about airplane armrests recently reminded me of this. Someone asked who should get the armrests when three strangers are sharing a row, and the argument was that the middle passenger should automatically get both because the window passenger has the window and the aisle passenger has the aisle. I understood the logic, but my immediate thought was, “You really have to figure it out on every flight.” What works on one flight may not work on the next, and honestly, I think that principle applies to much more than airplane etiquette.
For one thing, context matters more than assumptions. The middle-seat passenger may want both armrests, but they may also be sleeping with their arms folded, like I often do, or they may have a blanket, jacket, or neck pillow positioned in a way that makes an armrest irrelevant. The window passenger may want to lean toward the window, while the aisle passenger may need a little more room to move. None of those circumstances necessarily invalidate a general guideline; they simply remind us that guidelines are starting points, not substitutes for paying attention. When we stop looking at the actual situation because we have already decided what should happen, we can end up enforcing a solution to a problem that nobody is actually experiencing. That is why the first step in reassessing anything is to look at the circumstances in front of us instead of automatically applying the circumstances from the last time.
Just as importantly, something that worked before can stop working without ever having been a bad decision. We often treat change as evidence that our previous choice was wrong, when sometimes it simply means that something has changed. A schedule that once worked beautifully may become exhausting when responsibilities change; a boundary that once protected your peace may need to be adjusted as a relationship evolves; a workplace practice that made sense when a team was small may become inefficient when the team grows. The important question is not whether the original decision deserves to be defended forever, but whether it still produces the result we need today. Reassessment allows us to honor why we made a decision without becoming trapped by it.
Beyond that, we should be willing to replace assumptions with communication. The airplane armrest debate is funny because three people could theoretically sit in the same row with three completely different expectations about what is “fair,” and everyone could silently assume that their interpretation is obvious. That is how small inconveniences become unnecessary frustrations. The same thing happens in relationships, families, friendships, and workplaces when people expect others to understand rules that were never actually discussed. Sometimes the answer is as simple as asking, “What works for you?” rather than deciding that we already know. When we communicate instead of assuming, we give people an opportunity to tell us what we could not have known on our own.
Perhaps most importantly, regularly reassessing our rules gives us permission to grow. We are not the same people we were five years ago, and the people around us are not frozen in time either. Our priorities change, our responsibilities change, our relationships change, and our understanding changes as we gain experience. It would be strange to expect every expectation, routine, boundary, or agreement we established in the past to remain perfectly appropriate forever. Reassessment is not indecision, and it is not an admission that we failed; it is evidence that we are paying enough attention to recognize when something needs to evolve. Sometimes growth means creating something new, but sometimes it simply means having the courage to ask whether something old still belongs in our lives.
Maybe that is why a silly question about airplane armrests stuck with me. There probably isn't one universal answer that works perfectly for every flight, every passenger, or every situation, and perhaps there doesn't need to be. We can have general principles while still leaving room for individual circumstances. More importantly, we can carry that flexibility beyond the airplane and into the rest of our lives. So take a look at the rules you're currently living by—especially the ones you haven't questioned in a long time—and ask yourself whether they still make sense, whether they still feel fair, and whether they still serve the people they were created to serve. You might discover that the rule still works exactly as it is, or you might discover that it is time for an update. Either answer is okay; what matters is that you were willing to look again.
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