I told someone the other day that autumn was my favorite season.
They looked at me in disbelief and said but everything dies and honestly I'd never looked at it that way.
Autumn has always felt to me like the season where nature teaches us about letting go.
The trees don't cling to their leaves even though those leaves once held so much life,
Shade and beauty.
When the season changes the trees simply allow them to fall.
There's no resistance,
No fear of being bare,
No grasping for what has already had its time.
And I think about how often in our own lives we cling to relationships that no longer nurture us,
To projects that no longer light us up,
To identities we've outgrown or even ways of thinking that keep us small.
We hold on tightly even when the season of those things has ended.
But why do we do that?
Because we think we should.
We've always been told never to give up.
But sometimes it's simply about letting go.
Autumn whispers a different way.
It shows us that release isn't failure.
It's a part of the rhythm of life.
Just as the trees let go to make space for rest and for new life to come in spring.
We too can choose to lay down what no longer serves us into what has wilted.
Maybe there's an old dream you've been carrying that no longer feels like your truth.
Maybe it's the version of yourself you thought you had to be.
Maybe it's even a habit of always saying yes when your body and heart are asking for no.
Or maybe you automatically say no when actually sometimes you want it to be a yes.
Letting go can feel like a loss but really it is an act of trust.
Trust that by creating space we make room for renewal,
For the next season,
For what is waiting to bloom.
Outside,
The world is shifting.
The air cools,
The evenings arrive sooner and the mornings come later.
The trees loosen their grip on what no longer serves them and the leaves let go in a blaze of copper,
Gold and sienna.
Not dull,
Not weak,
But fiery,
Magnificent,
As though endings were meant to be celebrated in colour.
Because without endings,
There would be no new beginnings.
And notice too that autumn never rushes.
The trees don't drop every leaf in a single day.
The season unfolds gently,
Leaf by leaf,
Moment by moment.
From the autumn equinox through to the winter solstice,
There is patience in this process,
A grace.
Nature reminds us that letting go does not need to be hurried or forced or neat.
It can take time.
One leaf may fall today,
Another tomorrow.
Some branches may hold their colour until the very end of the season.
And still,
The letting go continues,
Steady,
Honest and at its own pace.
Perhaps we too can allow our own process of release to be like this.
Not rushed,
Not pressured,
But spacious,
Gentle and ongoing.
And yet there is something else autumn teaches us.
It's not only about letting go,
It's also about living in the in-between.
When the leaves are falling,
But winter has not yet fully arrived.
When the branches are bare but spring is still months away.
The space in between seasons is not empty.
It's a pause,
A waiting,
A time when roots deepen quietly underground.
When the soil holds what cannot yet be seen.
Maybe you are in such a space in your own life,
No longer who you were,
Not yet who you are becoming.
And it can feel uncomfortable and uncertain.
But it is also sacred.
Because in the in-between,
Transformation is already happening.
It is just not visible yet.
Can you allow yourself to rest here?
To not rush into answers?
Or force yourself into blooming?
But trust that your own spring will come in its time.
When I realised that I had a mental illness,
And that I was incredibly unwell,
I took myself on a walk.
And at that time it was autumn,
And I had to pause my life.
I had to rest and I had to recover.
I noticed the things around me,
And it was that time in my life where I realised that nature held so many answers for us.
She was teaching me to let go.
What I needed to let go of was the shame of feeling mentally unwell.
I was surrounded by so many successful and happy people,
Yet there I was unwell.
It was autumn and nature was teaching me that it's okay to let go of that shame,
Of genuinely having to start again.
I had to start from rock bottom and work my way back up.
And it just so happened that it was autumn at the time,
And I was still recovering through winter.
And I was frustrated,
I was getting annoyed at myself that healing was taking so long.
I was expecting something fast and quick,
But what I needed the most was me.
I needed to be my very own witness of healing and recovery.
I think it was because I wanted to share it with you.
And so in that downtime between autumn and spring was winter.
And it was probably one of the most beautiful times of my life.
Looking back,
I gave myself permission to go through autumn and through winter.
So remember,
When you're in the in-between,
Transformation is already happening.
It is just not visible yet.
And you can allow yourself to rest here.
To not rush into answers or force yourself into blooming.
But to trust that your own spring will come in its time.
So take a moment to breathe that in.
And whisper gently to yourself,
It is safe to be unfinished.
It is safe to not know.
It is safe to be in-between.
And as the leaves cover the ground,
And again as nights arrive sooner and the mornings grow slower,
Life whispers a truth we so often forget.
You do not always need to be blooming.
You are not made to constantly be in summer.
There is wisdom in retreat.
There is beauty in endings.
And there is power in rest.
And perhaps the deepest lesson of autumn is this.
The unseen matters.
What happens beneath the soil?
What takes root in the darkness?
What cannot yet be named or noticed?
This is where the next season is born.
So if you don't feel quite right now.
If your life feels slower.
If you are waiting,
Not knowing,
Not growing in ways you can see.
Trust this.
You are still becoming.
Even here.
In this season.
Especially here.
You can soften.
You can let go.
You can trust your own becoming.
Picture yourself now.
Standing at the edge of a still lake in autumn.
The water is calm.
A mirror for the golden trees around it.
Mist rises gently from the surface as morning light touches the land.
The air is cool,
Crisp and quiet.
The world feels hushed yet alive.
Here beside this lake you feel something deep within you soften.
The need to hold on.
The need to perform.
The need to prove.
It all loosens.
Like leaves falling from branches.
And as they drift you notice something profound.
The tree is not weaker without its leaves.
It is more itself.
It stands tall,
Stripped back,
Unapologetic and still beautiful.
So ask yourself.
What would it mean to be more yourself?
Even as you let go.
What would it mean to trust your own seasons?
The fire of endings is not a punishment.
It is a gift.
It shows us that beauty is not only in beginnings,
But in endings and release.
Maybe this is what you need to hear today.
That nothing you let go of is wasted.
That slowing down is not weakness but wisdom.
That you do not need to bloom all year round to be worthy.
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to end something.
And you are allowed to simply be.
And in that being you are enough.
So stay here as long as you need.
In your body,
In this season.
In the truth of who you are.
Always unfolding.
Always worthy.
And always enough.
And when you are ready,
Carry autumn's wisdom with you.
Endings are not the opposite to life.
They are the fire that makes space for renewal.
Namaste.
