By Nechama Shemtov
I was in Sydney last week for my mother’s birthday — a beautiful celebration that brought most of our family together from around the globe. It was a wonderful week with a great deal of reflection. The biggest lesson of the trip, however, didn’t come from the birthday — it came from an escalator in a shopping mall.
While browsing for a gift and still half in Washington mode, I walked toward the escalator and instinctively stepped to the right — the “up” side back home. Except that in Australia, the right side is down. It took a second for my brain to catch up as the escalator began carrying me in the opposite direction from where I intended to go. I laughed, stepped off and corrected course — but the moment lingered with me.
Not because it was dramatic but because it was revealing.
Habits Are Invisible Until They Mislead Us
We follow our patterns without questioning them — even when the environment has changed. We assume that what was “up” in one place is also “up” in another. Only when we feel ourselves being pulled the wrong way do we pause long enough to notice.
And here’s what struck me most:
I didn’t decide to step to the right.
I didn’t choose it.
I didn’t even think about it.
My feet simply went where they had been trained to go.
That’s the truth about habits:
They don’t wait for conscious approval.
They act before our thinking brain even shows up.
The escalator wasn’t the problem.
My instinctive, unquestioned habit was.
And it made me think of something I once heard: that Hashem often guides us not only through the loud, dramatic moments, but equally through the small stumbles — the tiny missteps that gently nudge us awake. A wrong turn, an unexpected pause, a direction that suddenly feels “off” — these are often invitations from God to stop, reassess and choose more consciously.
Sometimes the most ordinary moment is His way of whispering, “This is your opportunity to redirect.”
And the truth is, life constantly gives us these moments. Most of the time, we rush right past them.
We’re busy.
We’re moving fast.
We’re juggling responsibilities, routines, deadlines and the never-ending to-do list.
We don’t stop to ask:
Where is this escalator actually taking me?
And did I mean to get on it in the first place?
So many of us spend our days on autopilot, carried by habit and momentum. We’re doing, running, answering, reacting. We tell ourselves that tomorrow we’ll think about our bigger goals, tomorrow we’ll make that change, tomorrow we’ll be intentional. But “tomorrow” becomes next week … next month … and before we know it, we’ve gone far down a path we never consciously chose.
It’s not that our habits are bad. Many of them were built during earlier chapters — formed when they did make sense, when they protected us, helped us, guided us. But as life evolves, some habits quietly expire. They no longer fit who we are or who we want to become.
There’s also another part of this story that stayed with me: the idea that movement itself can be deceiving.
When you’re on an escalator — up or down — you’re moving. You feel motion beneath your feet, you feel a sense of progress, you feel swept along. But motion isn’t the same as direction. We can be busy — so busy — and still be going nowhere that matters. We can be climbing in one area of life while quietly descending in another. We can fill our days with activity and still feel an internal stagnation that no amount of hustle fixes.
That escalator made me realize that sometimes life’s greatest challenge isn’t choosing between action and inaction, but between movement and meaning. Between being carried … and being called. Between doing what’s automatic … and doing what’s aligned. Hashem’s gentle nudge often comes precisely in those moments when we confuse motion with progress, inviting us back to what truly elevates us.
The problem is, no one sends us a memo when it’s time to update our habits. We only notice when something feels off — when we’re literally heading down while we intended to rise.
That escalator moment reminded me that growth often begins with awareness. Not grand resolutions. Not dramatic changes. Just awareness. The willingness to ask, even quietly:
Is this still right for me?
Does this still match the person I’m trying to become?
We all deserve lives that lift us upward — emotionally, spiritually, personally. But that only happens when we pay attention to the everyday escalators we step onto without thinking.
So, this week, may we pause before we step.
May we choose our direction with intention, not autopilot.
May our habits support who we are becoming — not drag us where we’ve been.
And with God’s help, may even the wrong escalator remind us, gently and clearly, which way is truly up.
Nechama Shemtov is an internationally acclaimed speaker, educator, licensed coach and community leader based in Washington, D.C.
