This is Autumn
This Autumn, let something die.
A worry, a relationship, a project that has run its course. Let go of anxiety over the future. Let go of guilt.
Let go of other people’s dreams for you. Let go of the fear that happiness or success or love or joyousness somehow isn’t for you.
Let go of feeling unwanted. Go outside, can you feel how deeply your presence is craved here?
Let go of the small and burdensome things. Gifts never opened. Keys without a lock. Broken earrings, old love letters, the ephemera on your fridge.
As David Whyte writes, “Anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.” This Autumn, let go of all the clothes you have outgrown.
Let go of comparison.
Let go of doubt.
Let go of the feeling that you are somehow not good enough.
Because every imperfect apple that lays soft in your hands, and every ray of low Autumn sunlight that warms you through woolens will tell you a different story, a much truer story. The story that you are more, much more, than enough. That you bless this world simply by being alive.
It's been an interesting fall. Not the brilliant colors we often hope for but a more subtle palette, just as lovely, with pops of color where you least expect it. This is from 11/8 on our street. I love the light, textures and color of it. A visual metaphor for beauty and grace at the end of days.
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