Momentum

There is a force that we cannot see or touch that guides our daily actions. It is not mystical—it is the momentum of our choices and habits. Our actions have consequences, and those consequences accumulate, creating behavioral momentum. In some circles, that momentum is called Karma.  At its core, it is simply the accumulation of our actions. Some people call that habit. We can’t see this momentum of our behavior, nor can we touch it, but it is real–and it affects us all. If we can harness momentum to pull us towards that which is good for us, then we will enjoy more well-being and happiness.

If momentum weren’t real, every action would require the same effort, regardless of past behavior. But we know that’s not the case. Someone who has been running each morning for a decade doesn’t have to force themselves out the door—they’re pulled by the momentum of their routine. Their shoes seem to find their way onto their feet, their body expects movement, and skipping a run feels unnatural. Meanwhile, someone who usually collapses onto the couch after work isn’t just making a choice in the moment—they’re battling the gravitational pull of their past behaviors. The effort required to change direction is real, and that’s the power of momentum at work. Momentum doesn’t just reflect our past choices—it actively shapes what feels easy or hard today. We are swimming up or downstream based on the accumulation of all our choices.

The thing is, there is no way to lock in behaviors once and for all. No momentum is inexhaustible, and that cuts both ways. The diligent runner can fall out of shape if they repeatedly start skipping their routine. The 300-pound couch potato can become a Navy SEAL (David Goggins). What is impossible, however, is to build or destroy momentum in a day. No one becomes David Goggins by going for one run. The only thing we can control today, right now, is the choice right in front of us—a vote toward a habit or away from it. Every decision is either a press on the gas or a tap on the brakes. Over time, those small choices compound, generating powerful momentum.

This momentum has inertia—it resists change. If you’ve meditated daily for a decade, skipping a session feels unnatural. Your habit pulls you onto the cushion. Conversely, if you haven't run in ten years, every ounce of momentum is keeping you at rest. It cuts both ways. Breaking that inertia takes extra effort. But if you do, it will be a little easier next time, and a little easier the time after that.  

While momentum has inertia, it is also subject to natural decay. Left untended, momentum will fade, much like a car coasting with no gas. It takes far less energy to maintain 60 mph than to reach it, but if you take your foot off the gas, you’ll eventually slow to a stop. Momentum, no matter how strong, needs at least a light push to keep going—otherwise, it will fade into the sunset. 

Our habits are like plants: we can either water them or neglect them, but we can’t grow or kill them overnight. Their strength is the product of how well we’ve tended to them in the days, months, and years prior. All that a master gardener needs to do is tend caringly to their plants as best they can today. If they keep doing that, a healthy garden is inevitable. Behavioral conditioning, like gardening, is not a one-and-done affair.

The laws of momentum create natural life cycles for our behavior. A few years ago, I got inspired by Tony Robbins to do an exercise I called Emotional Power. In a spurt of inspiration (and a little perspiration), I printed seven questions designed to bring me a sense of emotional well-being, laminated them, and taped the list to the glovebox of my car. This burst of choice and action got a nonexistent habit off the ground. Then, on most of the proceeding mornings and evenings commuting to work, I went through the seven questions, asking myself: “What are you excited about in your life…What are you proud of…Who do you love…”. Easily prompted by my laminated glovebox, I kept doing these questions twice a day, and the habit gained momentum. Before long, I didn’t have to think about it. Then, I started to look forward to the exercise. The story doesn’t end there though. One day, a friend liked the idea, so I gave them the laminated sheet. I kept doing the habit for a month or so, leaning on the momentum I had generated. But without the prompt, the habit naturally decayed. It has been a few years since I answered those questions routinely.

It is our job to be a good steward of our habits. Are we tending to them or letting them wither? In my view, that is one of the simplest questions we can ask ourselves about whether we are doing what it takes to cultivate happiness. Did you tend to the behaviors that are important to you this week or not?

Either way, remember: The best time to plant an oak tree was 25 years ago. The second-best time is now.