Letting go

Alderbury in October

As the leaves begin to dance on the pavements, I am reminded that letting go is beautiful.

The colours shift as the chlorophyll fades, and the trees quietly begin their work of preservation, breaking down what is no longer needed to store away nutrients for the long months ahead. Yellow and orange carotenoids are revealed, glowing softly against the dimming light. Some trees release a final burst of violet and crimson anthocyanins, a last glorious display before rest. The fallen leaves settle on the earth, offering nourishment to the soil and shelter to hibernating insects.

As I walk among the fallen leaves, the bare branches remind me that there are seasons when we too must let go - of habits, attachments, or versions of ourselves that no longer serve who we are becoming. It is by letting go that we create space for new things.

It is brave to spend a season unadorned. When I look at a tree reduced to it's bare branches, I can truly appreciate its strength and resilience. I sense a whisper in the stillness: Do you really see me? Am I still enough without all the things that I carry?