The Moment Before the Step

I recently returned to my meditation practice after losing the rhythm I’d kept for so long. One of my favorite ways to drop in is with a morning walk before work. I often cue up a guided walking meditation, and a recent one left me thinking about more than just my breath or steps.

Walking meditation invites you to tune into the body and notice each movement. In this particular session, the guide described walking as a series of falls and catches. With every step, we fall forward, and the opposite foot rises to catch us. That rhythm — fall, catch, fall — creates forward motion.

That insight stuck with me. As I walked, I started to feel the moment I tipped forward and caught myself with the next foot. It was so clear once I noticed it: walking is a quiet, continuous act of falling.

And I thought, how often do we brace against this kind of motion in life? Especially in midlife, when we’re often craving movement but afraid to lose our balance.

Midlife as a Threshold, Not a Cliff

I’ve written before about how mindset shapes our experience of midlife. It’s not a crisis. It’s a turning point. A threshold. A place where the footing that once felt solid starts to shift beneath us.

At this stage, it’s natural to cling to what we know, even if it no longer fits. We wait for certainty or a full plan. But the longer we stay in that holding pattern, the harder it is to move.

In reality, progress often begins when we release the need for perfect timing. We shift our weight slightly. We take a small step. And that’s often all it takes to start moving again.

The Physics of Forward Motion

Falling — whether in walking or in life — is what makes momentum possible. Letting go of control isn’t failure. It’s how something new begins.

One of my first real pivots happened in college. I changed majors from Computer Science to Graphic Design and taught myself how to use the early Apple Macintosh computers. We weren’t allowed to use them in class yet, but I dove in anyway.
That one decision led to my first job out of school. Not because of my design portfolio, but because I knew how to operate the shop’s only Macintosh.

From there, I moved into designing CD-ROM interfaces. Then into roles that evolved with technology. None of it was planned. It was a series of steps into the unknown, guided more by instinct than certainty.

Looking back, I see that it wasn’t a master strategy. It was a series of small falls that carried me forward.

What Happens When We Stop Bracing

Later in my career, I began to see a different pattern. I stayed too long in jobs that no longer fit. I prioritized stability over satisfaction. I avoided risk unless it was forced on me.

Then came the dot-com crash, which upended everything. I found myself working retail just to stay afloat.

That’s when a former colleague called with a short-term contract offer. I’d never done freelance work. And I had just started moving up the ladder in retail, with benefits and a steady paycheck. It felt reckless to leave.

But I did. I said yes.

That contract led to another. And then another. Before long, I had a steady stream of meaningful work. Ten years of contract roles that kept me creatively engaged and financially afloat. All of it unfolded because I stopped bracing and took a step I couldn’t fully see.

Walking Into the Next Chapter

We can’t always plan what comes next. And often, trying to map it all out just keeps us stuck. What we can do is trust ourselves enough to take the next step — even if we don’t know exactly where it leads.

Each step offers new information. It gives us feedback, helps us adjust, builds our confidence. The first move is the hardest, but it makes the next one easier.

So if you’re feeling the pull toward something new, try this:

Say yes before you feel fully ready.
Let go of roles or rhythms that no longer serve you.
Try something that sparks curiosity, even if the outcome is unclear.

You don’t need to leap. Just shift your weight. Trust that your foot will find the ground.

The Wisdom in the Wobble

Think of a toddler learning to walk. They wobble. They fall. But none of it is failure. It’s learning. It’s movement.
As adults, we tend to forget that. We brace. We stall. We wait until we feel more prepared than we ever really will.
But, you already know how to catch yourself. You’ve done it for decades. You can trust that part of you.
Let yourself fall. That’s how we move.

So let me ask you:

What would you do today if you weren’t afraid to wobble a little?

Let Yourself Fall: A Midlife Invitation to Stop Bracing and Start Moving