Fall is here. I know, I know, it has been here for a few weeks already. But sometimes it takes me a while to really recognize what is happening around me. Seeing with my eyes is not really noticing. When I see with my heart and my soul, when all my other senses are engaged, that is when I am with it. That is when I am present.

Autumn.  That’s really the only time I look at the leaves with their dark and light shades of yellow, orange, red and brown. Sometimes it takes a change in order to acknowledge the existence of things.

The fruits and vegetables for sale at the farmers market match the tones of the leaves. We incorporate these colors into our life. We bring them home, decorating our living and work spaces inside and out. We even wear fall-inspired clothing, with its vibrant and deep colors, announcing our readiness for change.

Fall is celebrated in an open, overt way, more so than any other season. Maybe it’s a preparation for the cold and dreary winter season, often so devoid of the earthy pigments we so seem to appreciate. Or, it is the boldness with which nature declares its change, that is impossible to ignore.

Today I went for an early morning walk. That’s when Fall and I met face to face. It woke me up with the crisp and slightly piercing air, making me walk faster so as not to feel the cold. It showed me I am alive when I saw my breath for the first time in a while. There was a clarity in the light and a sharpness to the forms around me.

That’s when I took my headphones off, turned off the podcast I was listening to (not mine) and started to engage in the conversation with Fall.

I always greeted fall with melancholy. I considered it a season of shedding the old, of saying good-bye to the year and the plans that didn’t come through, a time of early darkness and of rushing around to get things done. Fall meant that summer was over, that sweaters and boots replaced tank tops and flip flops. Fall was a time my heart always felt a little heavier.

But today, I realized that fall has another side. When I finally looked up and listened, when I became present with the moment and conscious of the world around me, that’s when I understood:

• Fall is beginning. There is birthing and blooming and coming into existence. Its not as widespread as in Spring – you have to stop and look closely to see it. The grass that was dry and yellow all summer is turning green again. Small flowers spring up in unexpected places.
  • Look at the picture on top of this post – its a beautiful magnolia fruit coming into existence. I took this picture on my walk today.

• Fall is getting ready. Just sit somewhere, behind a window, looking out onto the street. there is a hustle in the air, people walk at a brisker pace, they carry more things, there is purpose in the steps and urgency in the movements. Fall is a time of preparation – for festivities, for winter, for change. It’s a time where we wait anxiously for things to arrive – presents, family, the first snow, the delicious meal. Lying in wait and in anticipation is a wonderful feeling announcing our readiness.
• Fall is coming home. While the warm summer nights keep us out longer, the cooler Fall evenings call us home sooner. Cozy hours spent with loved ones, or in the comfort of one’s own presence are special. We enjoy our homes more, we linger and savor and appreciate what is close to us. We remember old friends, make trips to see family and reflect on our life. We come home to rest, to live in the now and to re-energize for the next season.
• Fall is letting go. It’s the time to either tie up loose ends and cut them off. It can be the time of greatest pain, but that is also the opportunity for our greatest freedom. Just like the trees prepare themselves for renewal by shedding the old leaves, we can also learn to let go of the things that no longer serve us.

Fall is in invitation to become present with what truly is.

If we let go what no longer needs us, come home to who we truly are and prepare ourselves for change, then we are ready and open to new possibilities.

Much Love

Janine