Small hinges, big doors

Yesterday I wrote about tending to your state, over trying to force actions.

It’s not such an either-or. Tending to state is just more indirect: you sacrifice some precision but trust that the breadth of effects will benefit you.

Take walking for example.

Walking daily primes the heart, reducing blood pressure and coronary disease risk. It helps regulate glucose and insulin; lubricates joints and builds bone density; boosts immune function and stimulates memory; lowers cortisol and tames anxiety; and sparks divergent thinking and creative insights.

Walking is far more than just walking.

Practices like these are small hinges that open cathedral doors.

The hinge is small, but it can regulate the movement of something 100x its size and weight.

The hinge is simple. It sits in the jamb, doing its job out of sight. A lever turned on its side, seamlessly transferring torque.

The hinge is forged by an anonymous smith, fitted and then forgotten. We take the hinge for granted. Just as we often overlook a morning stroll.

Hinge practices are quiet and unassuming: meditation, writing, walking, playing. They invite no fanfare. But they carry weight far beyond their size. They open doors we’d never be able to move ourselves.

What are your hinge practices?