I was always hesitant if I didn’t have a plan—a really well-thought-out plan. Sometimes, I would try to bend the universe to the will of my plan. It often didn’t work. The world, stubborn as it is, tends to resist even the most meticulous blueprints.

Now, with experience, a network, and some problem-solving skills, I’ve come to appreciate that tight spots and bottlenecks often force the decisions that lead to the best solutions—some better than others. Constraints refine ideas, just as pressure turns coal into diamonds. Or, to borrow from music, it’s like the sound of a trumpet forced through a small space—it comes out much better, sharper, with a clarity otherwise impossible.

Montaigne, the 16th-century philosopher (read  Stefan Zweig’s biography of him if you haven’t), understood this well. As a lover of literature, he was inclined toward poetry. But he also saw poetry as a metaphor for life, much like the early Stoics did. He riffed on Cleanthes, saying:

“Just as the voice of the trumpet rings out clearer and stronger for being forced through a narrow tube, so too a saying leaps forth much more vigorously when compressed into the rhythms of poetry.”

In other words, limits don’t just confine; they distill. When there’s less room for waste, the best parts of an idea, a plan, or even a life emerge stronger. That’s the beauty of constraint—it’s not the obstacle, it’s the amplifier.