It is autumn now; the days are shorter, wind and rain a bit more chillier, nights cooler, and everywhere I look I see brown. And I also see vibrant reds, oranges, yellows, and gold. The sky alternates between clear azure and dark swirls of greys and storm clouds.
The only time I enjoy all the reds and crimsons is on a gorgeous maple tree. Fall has been one of my favorite seasons for as long back as I can remember. It signifies an end to the sweltering hot summer and ushers in the holiday season with a colorful blaze of glory and excites the senses. Fall is great!
But recently I’ve also come to look at fall in a different light. I was speaking to a friend, and she mentioned how much she hated this time of year. Everything is dying, the grass is brown, the trees are losing all their green leaves and it was just depressing.
She had an argument. I could not deny the physical things she pointed out. But then I went a step further and added my thoughts on why the grass was brown and the trees lost their leaves.
Nature, in her infinite wisdom, was letting go. She was preparing herself for something better but first she had to let go of what she had. Nature is a wise tutor.
The grass has to stop growing, stop feeding, so the earth could rest. It would only be by letting go of this season’s blades, the earth could be prepared to regrown a fresh lawn next year.
The trees had to let go of their leaves, after giving them a fond fair-well of color. Some leaves released themselves quickly, skittering along their path of fate. Others hung on, stubborn and defiant to the wind shaking them from their lone posts on the branches. But resistance is futile and eventually all leaves whither and fall, becoming food or a blanket or some form of comfort to others on the ground. Once bare, the trees can rest, sleeping the winter away to bring forth new buds in the spring.
Renewal is great. We love to see flowering shrubs, blossoms sprouting forth from the ground, and warm sunshine splashing down on us. However, in order to enjoy all of those rich blessings, we first must share in the season of letting go. Then we experience the season of rest. Mother Nature slumbers, quiet, still, planning.
In light of that, I’ve been thinking I need to start letting go this fall, prepare myself for a mental slumber instead of a holiday rat-race, and plan for the day when I can burst forth rested and ready for a new season.
Ryan Jo Summers 
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