Reflection by Emily Dykman

This past weekend I had the opportunity to pause and take in the beauty of the season. I was amazed by the dazzling reds and yellows of the trees along the roadside and was reminded once again that we are transitioning through seasons in the natural world. Transitions often happen quietly below the surface. Every fall I am surprised by how early night seems to arrive suddenly, or how bright and colorful the trees have become in my neighborhood. It can be easy to miss these moments in the ordinary day-to-day of our lives, but in the moments when we pause to see the beauty of the world around us we can often learn a great deal. 

The season of autumn with its crisp chill in the morning and warm sun in the afternoon often puzzles me. It is as though the summer and winter are in a tug-of-war for each day. We know that winter will eventually win out, but for the time being we can slowly grow accustomed to the shorter days and longer nights. We may long for the freedom of summer and look with some trepidation toward the cold of winter (or at least I do!). The growing darkness can often take a toll on our mood or our energy. Yet, even in the midst of this transition, we know how the rhythm of these days will move forward. Seasons come and seasons go. When we can enter into their rhythms, we may find a calm that comes along.

In these days, I have come to rely on spiritual practices to guide me through the in-between times. As the trees let go of their leaves, I am reminded of my own need to simplify and make space. I often find myself longing for more time to be still and simply gaze. I am aware of the need to attend to my energy and pace, especially as the earlier arrival of darkness becomes a reminder to rest. These days can become an opportunity to prepare spiritually for the transition into winter. The outside world slowly moves from harvest to dormancy. Attending to that same energy in my day-to-day life can often allow a sort of spiritual retreat in the midst of my own work. My own reflection in these days has been to ask what I might be able to learn from this season. How is the world teaching me to enter more deeply into the rhythm of life?

In the fall I find myself leaning into the poetry of Mary Oliver. I offer one poem that speaks particularly well to the autumn season.