Autumn is the season of change. A season where nature teaches us, wordlessly, that change is not something to control, it simply unfolds. The trees do not force their leaves to turn from green to gold. They do not shake them off or decide the moment to release. Change happens by itself, in rhythm, in time.

From green to yellow, from yellow to orange, to red, to brown, each shade carries beauty, each stage its own truth. The tree simply stands. It does not resist the winds of change, nor does it cling to what was. From the outside, it may look as though the tree is emptying, as though something is lost. But inside, deep within the roots and trunk, it is gathering strength, conserving energy, preparing for the silent growth of winter and the blossoming of spring.

And yet, for us humans, change rarely feels this effortless. Instead of standing rooted like the tree, we often resist. We become unsettled when life shifts out of the patterns we know. We get used to a certain rhythm, a certain routine. It gives us a sense of safety. We know how the days flow, how things will unfold, what to expect.

So when something shifts, when plans fall through, when life takes a different turn, when something we relied on drops away, we feel it immediately. Resistance rises up. Agitation, frustration, uncertainty. Why? Because the familiar rhythm we trusted has been disturbed, and suddenly we are reminded of something we try so hard to forget: we are not in control.

This loss of control can make us feel locked, tense, even fearful. We don’t know what comes next. And instead of resting in the present moment, we project ourselves into an imagined future, grasping for stability. In that grasping, we move away from being.

But here is where autumn offers its wisdom. The tree does not resist. It does not cling to the leaf that once nourished it. It does not try to predict exactly when the next leaf will fall. It simply stands, present, allowing life to move through it. What is ready to fall, falls. What is ready to stay, stays.

This is the teaching of autumn: to stand in our being. To trust that life unfolds without our need to control. To understand that letting go is not something we must “do,” but something that arises naturally when the time is right.

The common phrase “let go of what no longer serves you” can sound empowering, yet often it places us back into effort, into the will to push, to decide, to act. But autumn whispers a softer truth: let it be.

When we allow life to be just as it is, when we stand in the presence of our own being, what no longer belongs will release itself, just as leaves drift to the ground. We need not force, we need not control. Change is happening constantly, quietly, inevitably.

And this being, this grounded, steady presence, is not passive. It is fertile. It is the soil in which new life will grow. Just as the tree in autumn prepares unseen strength for spring, our willingness to stand in our being now creates the ground for renewal, for clarity, for fresh life when the time is ready.

Reflections

• Where in your life do you notice resistance to change?

• Which routines or rhythms feel so familiar that their absence unsettles you?

• What happens inside you when you lose a sense of control?

• Can you stay with what is, without trying to fix it, simply letting it be?

• What might naturally fall away if you stopped holding on so tightly?