It’s that time of year. Overnight, the streets are carpeted with leaves that were shed literally between one day and the next.
This morning as I began my run, I noticed the path ahead was strewn heavy in a thick layer of golden shedding. If this isn’t one giant metaphor for letting go and ushering in the new, I don’t know what is.
Last year too, I remember feeling like this was a time of transition and noticing it in the way the leaves had shed all around.
I’ve been feeling that same sense of a lot changing and moving ahead even as a calm core seems to be solidifying within me. It’s hard to explain how the two exist simultaneously. And yet it’s what it is, seemingly silent and calm, but growing within.
There’s been a very vivid sense of shedding skin, coming into my own again. Almost like a new birth and a new beginning. Perhaps this, much like a lot of things in nature — the full moon, the timely rain, the necessary autumns — are transitions that happen in their time. We are in sync. We just don’t notice it as much.
Today I felt a resonance with the shed leaves. There is a brimming newness, the fragrance of promise and best of all, the newest feeling of them all — an ease with a natural witnessing or this passage. As it comes, so it must leave too. I’m in agreement with these cycles.