Living in a tropical country where the four distinct seasons are replaced by a perpetual summer means I don’t feel as strongly the ebb and flow of life brought about by nature. The leaves here do not all morph into a symphony of rustic oranges and golden yellows to remind me that autumn is here; that it is time to receive the harvest of the year with gratitude and to start preparing for slowing down to enjoy what I have got. I don’t wake up to blankets of white covering the world in a serene hush and snowflakes dancing delicately from the sky, telling me that it is time to be still, to reflect on what has gone and what will come while soaking in the joy of cherished year-end holiday moments with loved ones.
The relentless warmth and the evergreen landscape on this small island create an illusion of perpetual sameness, leading me to think that every day is simply a repeat of the previous one.
Yet, something is shifting deep within my heart -- the unmistakable melancholy that accompanies autumn.
It is an internal seasonal transition within myself.
A season of letting go of a child so that she can fulfill her dreams in a world that she feels more belonged to.
A season of sitting with my sense of loss as I acknowledge that I care more than I’d like to admit.
A season of seeking renewed clarity as I enter yet another phase of motherhood – and life.
I find myself going quieter, savouring the days with a pen, a journal and just me. It is as if time slows down deliberately so that I may find my way back again to what truly matters. Word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, weaving together to make sense of where to go next and how to begin moving forward again.
As I sit often in the hot humid air, there is an inner “autumn-like” sense of contentment and peace. I’ve come to appreciate that seasons change for a reason. They serve as a reminder for us to adjust our pace, to reconnect with the person within us, and to seek meaning and tranquillity.
Wherever you are, are you ready for the season change?