The older I get, the more I’ve come to embrace gravity. As a kid, you couldn’t keep my feet off the ground. If there was a trampoline, diving board, or any surface with a little bounce to it, you would find me launching off it. Roller coasters? I’m in. Bungee jumping or a zip-lining? Sign me up. Window or aisle seat on an airplane? I was the kid with his eyes glued to the window, pretending he was gliding among the clouds. Up in the air and carefree, that was me.
Now things have changed. I don’t remember the last time I went near a roller coaster, you couldn’t pay me to even think about skydiving, and not only do I prefer an aisle seat on the plane, as soon as I see someone grabbing the window shade, I turn away immediately. It seems that with every year, added responsibility and seeing the uncertainties life throws your way, I prefer the safety, security, and control of keeping my feet on the ground.
However, during the Kedusha prayer, I abandon gravity as much as I can. We lift up off our heels several times upwards to intensify our dedication to G-d. For me, the need to release my illusion of control is critical. I don’t bounce off my heels just because the siddur indicates I should. I do it fervently for my own sake. To remind myself that I’m not in charge, that I don’t always have control, and that Hashem does. And to reconnect with the kid in me who always seemed to know that.
