Always Becoming: Wisdom at the Autumn Equinox

The Earth is turning once again.

The light is changing, the air is becoming cooler, and the days are growing shorter. The Forest is slowly taking on a new rhythm as many beings begin to make their way south and the trees draw their energy inwards.

There is something about this seasonal turning that invites us to pay attention. Not only to what is changing around us, but to what might be changing within us, too. We are standing at the edge of one season and another, with one foot in what was and one foot in what is becoming.

It’s the perfect time to notice that we are always becoming.

The invitation

Change is in the Air. We can feel it in our bodies as the days shorten and the evenings arrive a little earlier. We notice it in the cooler air against our skin, in the softening light, and in the leaves beginning to loosen their connection to the trees. When we walk through the forest, there is so much to notice. The crunch and rustle of leaves beneath our feet. The smell of the forest floor. The quieter song of the birds. The alchemy of the season is potent!

We don't have to do anything. Simply BEing present is all that is needed. When we create a little more spaciousness in our lives, we may notice other things beginning to surface, too. Feelings, memories, questions or longings that don't always have room to emerge when life is moving quickly.

This is one of the gifts of an intentional pause.

It isn't necessarily about stopping everything or disappearing into the woods for an afternoon. Sometimes it is simply creating enough space to notice what is already here.

What am I feeling?

What have I been carrying?

What is asking for my attention?

What might I need right now?

There is no requirement to have an answer.

The wisdom at the edge

There is another part of pausing that I think is worth acknowledging. Sometimes slowing down can be uncomfortable.

When we step away from the busyness that keeps us moving, we may find ourselves standing at the edge of something we can't quite define. We may not know what comes next, or what we are becoming, or even what we need. And that uncertainty can be difficult.

We often have a strong pull to figure things out, make a decision, find an answer or get ourselves back onto firmer ground. There can be a temptation to rush through the in-between rather than allowing ourselves to actually experience it. But the natural world doesn't seem to work that way.

A tree doesn't need to know what next spring will look like before it releases its leaves. The forest doesn't resist the arrival of winter because it isn't sure what will come after. Life moves through its cycles of growth, abundance, loss, release, rest and renewal without needing to know the whole story in advance.

Perhaps there is something here for us, too.

Perhaps we don't always need to know what comes next.

Perhaps sometimes we need to stay at the edge for a while.

We don't have to sit there alone

This is one of the reasons I believe so deeply in the relationship between people and the living world.

Nature doesn't ask us to arrive with everything figured out. When we slow down enough to pay attention, the Forest can offer us a place to settle, listen and become curious about what is emerging.

And sometimes, we need someone to sit there with us for a while. As a Nature Therapy Guide, this is one of my roles. I can support the transition into stillness, especially when stillness feels unfamiliar or when the things that begin to surface feel tender or uncertain.

I don't come with answers, and I'm not there to tell someone what they should be feeling or thinking. Instead, I offer a gentle presence and invitations to notice, sense and connect, allowing their relationship with the natural world to grow in the ways it needs to.

Sometimes that might mean noticing the warmth of the sun on your face or the feeling of your feet on the earth. Sometimes it might be sitting quietly beside a tree, listening to the wind moving through the canopy. Sometimes it might be a conversation, a question, a moment of laughter or tears and often, it's helping them take enough time and space for something that has been waiting beneath the surface to be noticed.

What emerges is different for everyone and often impactful, supportive and empowering. That is the beauty of this work of reconnection. That's what keeps me committed to this work.

The wisdom of the season

The Autumn Equinox has traditionally been a time of gathering, gratitude and reflection around the world. It marks a moment of balance between light and dark before the days continue their gradual movement toward longer nights.

I love this turning point because it reminds us that change is not something that happens only once.

We are constantly moving through our own seasons. There are times of growth and expansion, times of abundance and activity, and times when we need to release what we have been carrying and turn inward. None of these seasons are separate from the others. Each one makes space for what comes next.

The Forest reminds us of this every year. The leaves that fall are not a failure of the tree. They are part of its preparation for what is coming. There is wisdom in that kind of letting go. There is wisdom in allowing ourselves to rest without needing to justify it! And - in recognizing that not every season of our lives needs to be productive or clearly defined. Oh yeah... it feels good to say that :)

Sometimes we are simply becoming and that is MORE than ok.

An intentional pause of your own

You don't need a whole afternoon in the Forest to begin.

You might step outside with your morning tea and sit quietly for a few minutes. You might take a slower walk without listening to a podcast or checking your phone. You might find a tree, a patch of grass, a favourite bench or a quiet place near water and simply spend some time there.

Let your senses guide you.

Notice the temperature of the air. Listen for the sounds closest to you, and then those farther away. Feel the ground beneath your feet. Notice what is moving and what is still. You don't need to turn the experience into a lesson or find a meaningful insight. Just notice. And if something tender or unexpected arises, you don't have to immediately understand it. You can let it be there, alongside everything else.

The living world is constantly changing around us, and we are part of that constant rhythm.

We are not separate from the cycles of growth, release, loss, rest and renewal that we see in the living world. We are living beings too! Always moving through seasons of life, always learning, always becoming.

So as the Earth turns toward another season, perhaps we can give ourselves permission to stand at the edge for a little while.

One foot in what was.

One foot in what is becoming.

And, for this moment, simply allow ourselves to BE here.

Sending love and light through the Trees.

Claire