The Law of Human Inertia: What a Second-Grade Science Lesson Taught Me About Moving Forward
Today, my daughter and I were working through her science lesson on Newton’s First Law of Motion.
You know the one:
An object at rest stays at rest, and an object in motion stays in motion, unless acted upon by an outside force.
To help her understand it, we put a little toy car on the floor.
And then we watched it sit there.
It didn't move.
We could talk about where it might go. We could imagine the path it would take. We could make a plan for it.
But none of that mattered.
The car wasn't going anywhere until something gave it a push.
And for some reason, as I watched that little car sitting still on our floor, I started thinking about how much this applies to us.
Especially when we're afraid to move forward.
Sometimes Staying Still Feels Safer
In my last essay, I wrote about the fear that can keep us from moving forward.
That feeling of knowing you want something to change, but feeling almost completely unable to take the first step.
We tell ourselves we're waiting for the right time.
We need to think about it a little longer.
We need more information.
We need to get ourselves together first.
Sometimes we even call it healing.
And sometimes, maybe we really do need to pause.
But there is a difference between pausing with intention and becoming comfortable in our stillness.
Because staying where we are can begin to feel safe simply because it's familiar.
Even when that familiar place isn't where we actually want to be.
We know what today looks like.
We know what tomorrow will probably look like.
We know what to expect.
Moving forward means stepping into something we can't completely predict.
And that can be terrifying.
So we stay.
We wait.
We think.
We plan.
And before we know it, weeks or months—or even years—can pass while we are still standing in the same place.
Like that little car.
Still.
Waiting for something to move it.
What If You Don't Need a Push From the Outside?
This is the part of the lesson that stayed with me.
The car doesn't know where it wants to go.
It doesn't make a five-year plan.
It doesn't wait until it feels confident.
It simply needs something to change its current state.
And maybe we don't need to figure out our entire path before we begin either.
Maybe we just need a little movement.
Not a complete life overhaul.
Not a five-year plan.
Not a promise that we're going to become a completely different person starting Monday.
Just one small action that says:
I'm ready to move.
Maybe it's writing the first paragraph.
Making the phone call.
Taking the walk.
Opening the book.
Having the conversation.
Signing up for the class.
Putting your shoes on and stepping outside.
Sometimes the first step is so small that it doesn't even feel significant.
But it is.
Because you have changed your direction.
The First Step Doesn't Have to Be Big
I think this is where we put so much pressure on ourselves.
We believe that if we are going to change, we need to make a big change.
We need to wake up tomorrow and have a new routine.
Eat perfectly.
Exercise every day.
Start the business.
Fix the relationship.
Become more present.
Finally become the person we've been telling ourselves we should be.
And when all of that feels impossible, we don't do anything.
We stay still.
But what if transformation doesn't begin with doing everything differently?
What if it begins with doing one thing differently?
One intentional choice.
One small action.
One moment where you notice that you're standing still and decide to gently move yourself forward.
That's the kind of change I believe in.
Not perfection.
Not forcing.
Not becoming someone else overnight.
Awareness first.
Then intention.
Then one small step.
Let Yourself Build Momentum
Once that little car starts moving, you don't have to keep giving it the same enormous push.
It has momentum.
And I think we experience something similar in our own lives.
Sometimes action gives us the confidence we were waiting to feel before we acted.
We take the walk, and we realize we actually feel better.
We make the phone call, and realize it wasn't as scary as we imagined.
We try something new, and discover that we are capable of more than we thought.
Then we take another step.
And another.
Not because we suddenly have everything figured out.
But because we are no longer standing still.
That is something I want to remind myself of, too.
We don't always need to know exactly where we're going.
Sometimes we just need to become aware that we've stopped moving.
Then ask ourselves:
What is one small thing I can do today to create movement?
Not the thing that will fix everything.
Not the thing that will change my entire life.
Just the next thing.
Because maybe moving forward doesn't require a giant leap.
Maybe it starts with a gentle push.
And maybe that push can come from you.
