Momentum in the Woods: A Parenting Lesson About Balance and Moving Forward

Today I went on a walk with my daughter in the woods, and we came to a fallen tree stretched across a shallow ravine. She looked at it and immediately asked, “Can I climb over the tree?” And of course I said yes. Any chance my kids want to explore the woods feels like a gift. The world pulls them in so many other directions, but out here they slow down, notice things, and test themselves in ways that matter.

Both my kids have this habit. Whenever they see a fallen tree bridging a dip in the ground, they feel like they have to cross it. It is their own quiet ritual. But because they are such different people, they each approach it in their own way. My son charges across with confidence like it is nothing more than a balance beam built just for him. My daughter loves the challenge too, but she moves slowly and deliberately, inch by inch. She will freeze halfway across, regroup, take a breath, and then start again.

Today was no different. She climbed onto the trunk and started across, but this time she was moving too slowly. Every few steps she paused, tightened up, and looked down at the drop beneath her. The more she hesitated, the wobblier she became. Her balance was not giving out. Her momentum was.

She made it across, but it was a grind. You could see it on her face. Effort, nerves, and a little fear. I coached her the whole way. Stay low, keep your arms out like a plane. She listened, step after shaky step. She got to the other side, but it was clear the whole thing had been harder than it needed to be.

When she climbed down, I told her, “You did great, but you made it harder because you kept stopping. Momentum actually helps you balance.” She looked unsure, so I tried a different angle. I asked, “Have you ever stopped pedaling a bike and felt yourself start to fall?” She nodded. “Same idea here. When you slow down too much or freeze, staying steady becomes harder. But when you keep moving, your balance actually gets easier.”

We kept walking, listening to the call of the White-throated Sparrow and watching the birds dancing through the branches. The woods felt alive in a way that settles something inside you. On our way back, we reached the fallen tree again. My daughter stopped and asked, “Can I try one more time?”

She climbed up onto the trunk with a new kind of intention. She set her feet, lifted her arms, took one breath, and started moving. Not rushing. Not freezing. Just moving.

This time she did not stop at all. Halfway across, her posture changed. She was not fighting for balance anymore. She was using it. When she stepped off the far side, she turned around with a giant smile. “That was so much easier.”

And right then the light bulb went off. This was not just about crossing a log. It was a universal lesson. Momentum makes hard things easier. Stopping makes easy things harder. We talk about balance like it is something you find by standing still, but the truth is the opposite. Balance is something you create by moving.

Inertia is real in physics and in being human. Once you stop, you have to overcome that heavy first push to get going again. But if you just keep moving, even slowly, even unsure, things that once felt shaky become manageable. Sometimes even enjoyable.

Watching my daughter cross that tree with ease the second time made me think about the moments in my own life when I stalled out or hesitated or let doubt steal my balance. And how every time, taking the next step, any step, was what brought steadiness back.

It is the parent version of just keep swimming. And it is something I hope my kids carry with them. When things feel shaky, do not freeze. Keep moving. Momentum will help you find your balance.