Like the Trees in Autumn, We Turn: Embracing Seasonal Change with Grace
As the air begins to cool and the days grow shorter, something subtle yet powerful begins to stir — not only in the world around us but within ourselves. Fall doesn’t arrive all at once. It tiptoes in. A few yellow leaves on a sidewalk. A crisp morning that fades into a sun-warmed afternoon. The smell of something earthy and nostalgic carried on the wind.
And just like that, we’re in it — a new season.
But unlike flipping a calendar page, seasonal change is rarely linear or tidy. For many of us, this time of year brings a quiet sense of unease, an emotional off-kilterness that can feel hard to name. Maybe you're more tired than usual, maybe a little more introspective. Maybe you feel like you're supposed to be ready for something... but you’re not quite there.
If you’re feeling this way, you’re not alone.
Fall reminds us that change is rarely immediate — and that the most enduring transitions are both active and passive, internal and external, slow and intentional. The trees don’t rush to drop their leaves. They change color gradually, holding beauty even as they let go. Animals don’t suddenly grow their winter coats — their bodies, attuned to the cues of nature, respond to the shift at just the right time.
What would it look like to offer ourselves that same kind of grace?
Sometimes we can feel pressured to "keep up" with change, to meet it with productivity or plans. But what if we allowed ourselves to observe first? To feel? To gently soften to the subtle shifting within us?
To pause long enough to ask:
What is shifting in me right now?
What am I being invited to let go of?
Where might I need warmth, nourishment, or rest?
This season can be a powerful metaphor for our inner lives. Just as trees don't resist the turning of their leaves, we too can learn to honor our own internal changes — even the ones we didn’t get to choose, and the ones we don’t yet understand.
You don’t have to rush into your "next." You don’t have to have it all figured out.
Sometimes, sitting with the shift — slowly, intentionally, and meaningfully — is exactly what you need to move through it with steadiness and grace.
So this fall, as the world around you changes, consider giving yourself permission to do the same — not by force or urgency, but by trust and attunement.
Like the trees, you are allowed to turn inward. Like the animals, you are allowed to prepare slowly. Like the earth, you are allowed to change — in your own time, in your own way.
Your next season is coming. Let yourself arrive in it gently.