Standing Brooms and Gravitational Pulls
- Eric Wieringa
- Jul 5
- 4 min read
There’s always a new social media phenomenon tugging at our attention.
Is the dress blue or gold?
Will microwaving grapes make plasma?
Are birds even real?
There’s one internet craze that seems to sweep across the internet every few years:
The mystery of the standing broom.
Supposedly, during the equinox, gravity aligns just right, allowing a broom to stand upright on its own.
I first saw this back in 2012, the same year people were anxiously counting down to the Mayan calendar’s so-called doomsday event.
As it turns out, the trick has nothing to do with the equinox. A broom can stand any day of the year. That’s right, those brooms weren't possessed, the Mayans never arrived in their spaceships, and Harold Camping is still wrong.
I tried the broom trick myself.
At the time, I was working a job outside my field of education, serving as a behavioral assistant at a special education school. The students and staff thought my “broom-balancing powers” were pretty impressive. But what stayed with me wasn't the trick. It was how quickly we become captivated by something that merely looks extraordinary while overlooking what is already remarkable.
A broom isn't remarkable because it can stand by itself,
It’s special when it does what it’s designed to do.
It doesn't discover itself by standing still.
It becomes itself...
by sweeping.
The Gravity we Resist
The funny thing is...
The internet wasn't entirely wrong.
There was, of course, a gravitational pull at work on those brooms.
The trick was simply finding the precise point of equilibrium that allowed gravity to hold it in place.
However, this standing broom analogy is about a different kind of gravity.
Not just the force that attracts a body to the center of the earth, but a deeper one.
A pull from the center of our own being.
Some people feel that pull early and it becomes a clear vocation.
Others experience it out of curiosity.
Or conviction.
Or a persistent longing they can't quite explain.
Sometimes it arrives like lightning.
Sometimes it shifts over time.
But it’s always there, gently calling us back whenever we've wandered too far from ourselves.
That gravity gives our lives direction.
Yet many of us spend our energy resisting it.
We wait until we're more confident.
More talented.
More secure.
One more degree.
One more follower.
One more perfect moment.
In our meme-driven culture, it’s easy to look special: pause for applause, polish the brand, chase the next viral trick.
So we start managing perceptions instead of making progress.
Like a stationary broom, we learn to perform neat little tricks that appear extraordinary for a moment while neglecting the very thing we were made to do.
But gravity is not meant to eliminate motion, it creates it.
Planets don't remain in orbit by escaping gravity. They remain in motion by continually surrendering to it.
Our lives work much the same way.
Purpose isn't meant to be admired from a distance.
It's meant to be lived out through a creative practice.
Using the Broom
Whether your calling feels crystal clear or only faintly sensed, it asks the same thing of you:
Begin.
We often assume we'll discover our purpose first and then begin the work.
Life rarely unfolds that way.
We become who we are through what we faithfully return to. The things we wrestle with, give ourselves to, and practice day after day slowly shape us in return.
We don't sweep because we've discovered our purpose.
We discover our purpose...
by sweeping.
So let me ask you...
Are you a standing broom?
A painter who doesn't paint?
A dancer who doesn't dance?
A dentist who doesn't pull teeth?
To make something real in a world of illusion, we have to learn to find nourishment in the doing itself:
brush to canvas,
feet to floor,
wrench to molars.
Because something remarkable happens when we keep showing up.
The work begins talking back.
Every brushstroke changes the next decision.
Every painting reveals something the previous one couldn't.
For You, The Artist
The truth is, work isn't very glamorous.
The world celebrates finished paintings, bestselling books, ribbon cuttings, and standing ovations, but It rarely applauds the thousands of unnoticed decisions that made those moments possible.
The work of an artist rarely looks extraordinary.
It looks like Tuesday.
It looks like drawing when no one is watching.
Applying to the gallery that might say no.
Returning to the easel after rejection.
Trusting that today's ordinary practice is becoming tomorrow's extraordinary body of work.
In a culture built on appearances, it's surprisingly easy to look like an artist.
But artists aren't meant to become experts at looking like artists.
We become artists by making art.
This is why I believe so deeply in mentoring.
Most artists don't need someone to hand them a purpose.
They need someone to help them keep sweeping long enough for the work to speak.
That's the heart behind The Painted Path Studio.
Not a shortcut.
Not another trick for looking successful.
It's a place to build the habits, courage, and perspective that allow purpose to emerge through faithful practice.
So let me leave you with one final encouragement.
Keep sweeping.
If you already know what you're here to do, but the world hasn't noticed yet,
keep sweeping.
If opportunities feel scarce,
keep sweeping.
If your work feels invisible,
keep sweeping.
If you're still wondering what you're meant to do,
keep sweeping anyway.
The work has a remarkable way of introducing you to the person you were meant to become.
One day you'll look back and realize something surprising.
Your art wasn't the only thing coming into focus.
You were.
So don't wait for the planets to align.
Don't wait for the apocalypse to reveal your purpose.
Don't wait for certainty to descend from the heavens.
Your own second coming arrives every time you return to the work.
Stop searching for a burning bush...
when you've already been handed a broom.
Pick it up.
And sweep.
If you're ready to stop waiting and start sweeping, I'd love to walk alongside you. Learn more about the importance of creative practice through The Painted Path Studio.
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