A Toast

Gravity and I have known each other since the day I tried to lift my head by myself as a baby, but our relationship has never been a close one. Oh, we didn't have any hard feelings, and worked together through the years to get me walking, running, and sometimes dancing. But we still had our miscommunications. Especially about ice, the location of the last step on the stairs, and how high tree branches that I had climbed were. Gravity takes some careful footing to get a long with, and I tend to use my foot for putting in my mouth in social situations instead. Repeatedly, gravity would catch me flat-footed, if you'll pardon the expression.

Years went by, and I accepted our neutral relationship as a fact of life and ceased to think about it. It never occurred to me that a closer, more friendly relationship with gravity could be achieved. Gravity was not a friend nor an enemy, it was just a law with compulsory obedience.

Then, nearly two years ago, I put my foot on a skateboard for the first time. If I'd paid closer attention, I probably would have seen gravity sit up and start watching me. It watched those first few rolls and falls curiously, waiting to see if I meant it. Over the past year and three quarters I have discovered that I did. Gravity and I are working much more closely these days. We play games together, jumping, landing, turning, falling, learning. It teaches me things, like how to fall with out hurting, and how to use gravity and momentum to fly on wheels. I've learned how to treat it with respect and care. We get together and ride down ramps and zoom up the other side, giving and taking and sharing and figuring out what's possible. Gravity is strong, consistent, supportive, and an infinitely patient teacher. The more skilled I get, the more fun we have. I wish I’d gotten to Gravity sooner. No one ever told me we could be such good friends, and I’m not sure I would have believed them if they had.

A month and a half a go, I put my hand on a climbing wall again. Climbing is another game with Gravity. Gravity is not what pulls me down when I climb, but what lets me hang on holds if I find the right angle. It lets me swing to the next foothold and I borrow some to brace a foot on the next wall. In his book, How to Climb!, John Long refers to climbing a wall as the “choreography of ascent.” Climbing is a long, slow and romantic dance with gravity. These days, I hang out with Gravity more than just about anyone else.

Gravity and I are no longer just coworkers; we're teammates. Gravity is no longer the force that holds me down, it's the kite string that lets me soar, dip, and fly. Gravity is not a cold and confining prison, pinning us to the unforgiving ground. It is not a force to be conquered or vanquished; it’s a power to respect and befriend. It cannot be commanded or coerced, but it will gladly let you and help you do all sorts of amazing things if you are willing to train yourself to do them skillfully. It is not a dragon to be slayed but to be ridden, not as master and beast, but as a working companionship.

So, lades and gentlemen, raise your glass to my newest best friend, Gravity! Then, throw the liquid into the air and watch Gravity turn the drops into shining, shimmering, diamond marbles on the way down.