It is October here in Pennsylvania—one of the most beautiful times of the year. The leaves reach their peak color turning hues of bright red, vibrant orange, and golden yellow. The days are mild, blending into crisp evenings. The natural world sheds its elaborate outer skin bearing the bones beneath; the tree branches and the spent stalks of flowers will soon glisten in their frost-coated glory.
I am always hit with a touch of nostalgia at this time of year, an almost melancholic air settles over me but not in a bad way. I want to drink in every golden drop of sunshine and store it away within me for the gray days that lie ahead. I want to walk through corn mazes and remember past harvests when life would then slow down. This is a time of year that makes me want to slow down and cocoon myself indoors—curled up before a crackling fire with a delectable cup of tea or hot chocolate and lose myself in a captivating read. I want to light candles, pull out throws and blankets, and maybe even play a game of backgammon on the living room floor. These things make me feel more warm and cozy rather than sad and empty. It is an awareness that time is passing, and will continue to pass, but for a short while it seems to slow slightly, allowing us to take a moment to breathe it in—if we are watching for it.
What a wonderful time of year to observe the slowing of the natural world. How much more wonderful when we allow ourselves to bask in the slowness of the season. It is restorative to slow down with the season and reemerge rested and ready to embrace a new season. It wasn’t so long ago that we worked furiously in spring and summer; we would started to unwind after a busy harvest season, and then be stilled in winter. How did it happen that every season became as busy as the one before it and the one after? We were made to have busy seasons bursting with life and activity and to have slow seasons; but, when did we decide that we could thrive without pausing to notice that change is happening, that we don’t need to unwind, that we don’t need to rest? What do we gain, truly, by pushing and forcing every season to be the same? Perhaps a better question is how much do we miss by pushing through the seasons of our lives, acting as if each season is uniform.
We rush and we hustle, forgetting that rest is not superfluous. We need time to feel the seasons, both in the natural world and in our personal worlds as well. We need space and time to process life, to relax, to reflect, and to be filled and inspired for the next season. We need time to feel the weight of the seasons, to evaluate whether this is really the life we want to live and are meant to be living. For what is our life worth if we get to the end only to realize that this is not the life we wanted to live and realize that we have used our time unwisely, without taking the time to slow down and consider the seasons of life—and now there is no time to change course.
This autumn, whatever autumn may look like for you, I encourage you to slow down, rest up, and absorb all the delightful scents and occasions this season has to offer. Let’s slow down and take advantage of opportunities in which precious memories can be created with the special people in our lives so that when we get to the end we will be able to reminisce and take comfort in those memories. May we remember that the seasons will come and go, the world will keep turning, but there is no promise that we will be here to enjoy it “next year,” so let’s focus on enjoying today.
