Letting Myself Fall.

Via Lynn Hasselberger
on Oct 30, 2011
get elephant's newsletter

Every year, I resist the change of season.

It is now late October and I stare at the leaves clinging to the most stubborn of branches. I study the colors and let them saturate my soul; will them to endure. Some trees have lost all their leaves and still stand firm, mocking me as if they sense my intimidation about the weather to come. And the regrets of not doing everything I could to seize the days that were pleasant and are now lost. Carpe diem applies no matter the season, the trees whisper.


Fall ushers in chilling winds.

I love to hear the wind wander through the tree tops and knock the wind chimes into a frenzy. But, even when the weather is ‘nice’, my senses rebel when fully exposed to the wind. Irritated ears; hair blown out of control; invisible fingers brush against me and sometimes push. Is it trying to manipulate me? Antagonize? With fall, the wind chills and can reach the bone. Not exactly pleasant in my book.

Without wind, how would we know stillness? Why not resign myself to it or be playful with it? I should welcome its unpredictability as I hope others will my hormonal moodiness.

A touch of gloom + loss of control.

Fall tugs at me as if it requires me to change along with it. Transporting me against my will. I protest—please slow down!

I feel myself grasping at time as the branches cling to the last remaining leaves (or are the leaves clinging to the branches?). I wonder: If the branches could, would they reach out and catch the leaves and hold onto them until they’re all dried up? Do they become as impatient as I do during the winter time, willing new, green leaves to sprout?

Regardless, the time is out of my reach and flies on its own. A new school year with rushed mornings and forced structure. An end-of-October wedding anniversary—will my husband make it special or is it up to me? The end of the farmer’s market and the broken promise to myself to visit a new one each week. Then comes a gust and I’m lifted by Halloween—my favorite holiday when even I eat candy corn (I know it’s laden with corn syrup and, for that day, it doesn’t matter). My son chooses yet another black-caped skeletal costume-of-impending-death and I long for the days he’d allow me to make him an adorable lion or bumble bee or a home constructed Bob the Builder—costumes of my choice.

Sugar crash. Two days later my birthday whacks me over the head reminding me once again that time just marches on. Days slip away faster than I can comprehend. My forehead furrows—no, I’m downright angry—at retailers blasting Christmas earlier every year. The actual onslaught of holidays arrive with the same unrealistic expectations that I attempt to bury and not… expect. My son and husband taunt me by playing Christmas music before Thanksgiving, belly laughing when I beg them to turn it off. “No Christmas music until December!” I plead as my hands desperately cover my ears. The end of December is the crescendo that then lingers with relentless post holiday sensory pollution—red “big sale” signs everywhere; radio and TV ads trying to seduce me, of all people—shopping hater—to shop shop shop; people rushing around from strip mall to strip mall in their snow dusted vehicles and failing to use their indicator as they notice a bigger, more tempting sale sign and veer across two lanes.

Then all is quiet, windy, snowy, blustery. The inevitable hibernation takes over. Is it inevitable simply because I expect it to be?

I worry about all the animals in the cold and wonder how they survive. I become grateful to be warm inside.

Fall is a time to let go of things you may have felt attached to.

Ideas that have worn old. Friends who don’t work anymore. It’s a time to reflect on where you’ve been then let go of the negative, let them drop by your feet. Then walk away. Or run.


I breathe in right now. Tell myself to grab the moment and stop contemplating my fate of indoor servitude. Let go and accept that no matter what I do, I cannot stop the forces of time. Fall is here. Winter is next. There’s nothing I can do. Time stops for no one. I need to let myself fall into each day that arrives with acceptance and courage.

Photos of woman by Katarina Silva.

Originally published on my blog, Putting It Out There.



About Lynn Hasselberger

Lynn Hasselberger is co-founder of GDGD Radio; The Green Divas Managing Editor; and Producer of The Green Divas Radio Show. She's also a mom, writer and award-winning cat-herder who lives in Chicagoland. Sunrises, running, yoga, lead-free chocolate and comedy are just a few of her fave things. In her rare moments of spare time, she blogs at myEARTH360.com and LynnHasselberger.com. A treehugger and social media addict, you'll most likely find Lynn on twitter (@LynnHasselbrgr @GreenDivaLynn & @myEARTH360), instagram and facebook. She hopes to make the world a better place, have more fun, re-develop her math skills and overcome her fear of public speaking. Like her writing? Subscribe to her posts.


32 Responses to “Letting Myself Fall.”

  1. Vicki says:

    This is a lovely post. In Buddhism and yoga you learn to appreciate that nothing has permanence. All life is in flux. Be present in the moment and enjoy your life. Namaste!

  2. Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment, Vicki! Namaste 🙂

  3. PS. So glad you enjoyed it 🙂

  4. Tanya Lee Markul says:

    This is so beautiful Lynn – and I love Katarina's photos – they fit so well with your words. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this. I love the changing of the seasons, but I also can feel overwhelmed – you were able to articulate so nicely what I have been feeling. Thank you again.

    Posting to Elephant Yoga on Facebook and Twitter.

    Tanya Lee Markul, Yoga Editor
    Join us! Like Elephant Yoga on Facebook
    Follow on Twitter

    Just posted to "Featured Today" on the Elephant Yoga homepage.

  5. Thanks, Tanya! Funny thing is–I didn't plan to write that. I sat down to write about running. And this just came out. Aren't those photos wonderful? I can't even explain how it all fell (pun!) into place. Cheers!

  6. Beautiful Lynn. I could feel every word!

  7. warriorsaint says:

    Lynn: I so look forward to anything you write. Here is what is getting me through a sloppy Fall in the Northeast: download the song "Learn How to Fall" by Paul Simon. It's brilliant.

  8. TMC says:

    i'm having a "relating-overload" moment here.. beautifully written. thank you!

  9. Thank you, warriorsaint! I'll definitely check out that song. Cheers 🙂

  10. You're welcome, TMC. Thanks so much for taking the time to comment 🙂 Have a beautiful day!!!

  11. kunga rangdröl says:

    "relating overload"!!! yes. Lynn~I have difficulty with change, and I have difficulty with things as they are; life is nothing but our constant desire to live and our constant dissatisfaction with living.
    there was a time when I had more energy and I had more energetic use for my time (I don't know what happened)…and I, too, stop in my tracks at the brilliant fall colors and think–'what do I need to let go of ??'
    Tom Waits has a new song out, "The Last Leaf"…..thanks.

  12. Thanks for your feedback, kunga. I wonder: would our seasonal emotions be as evident if we lived in CA? While I'd LOVE to live there, I don't know how I'd handle the 75 and sunny weather 🙂 Glad you related and thanks for the song tip. Cheers!

  13. the pictures are divine. the words like a beautiful echo of my thoughts, I woke up today to the first snow fall of my first winter back from AZ…I feel that dread within and your post Truly truly exquisite somehow helps me deal. Thanks.

  14. Kristina says:

    What a beautiful post, Lynn. It definitely warmed my heart against the impending cold and gave me a different perspective on how to approach the beginning of winter. I will now see it as an opportunity to start anew, as bare as the trees. We will all rebuild together.

  15. […] Letting Myself Fall.. Like this:LikeBe the first to like this post. Posted in Uncategorized […]

  16. […] felt so alone. On the trip up, no one said too much to one another, and I kept saying to myself, “what am I doing? Am I crazy living at a retreat center at my age? Am I crazy leaving my […]

  17. […] It’s windy. The way wind pushes against me and makes noise irritates me. Counter excuse: Wind can make me feel part of this world as I work with and against the forces of nature. I can relate to it. Wind is temperamental as am I. Go with the wind! […]

  18. […] We fall into an abyss (often partly of our creation) and ask questions later. […]

  19. […] the heat of August rests into the introspection of Fall, my invitation to you is to move into your life without fear. To let the waves carry you away from the rocks and deeper into the heart. May spontaneity rule […]

  20. Yes! Totally fighting this right now. And I like it once it gets here, but the changing time…ugh!

  21. […] is a time of transition. When leaves cry from their branches and orange and die. For now. Every death brings birth. Each loss can be a lesson learned. Keep […]

  22. […] takes over. Small mind wants to fight, resist, react, manage, conceptualize, judge, tame, know and control change. But this, of course, leads to suffering and further entrenchment of small mind. The cycle has […]

  23. […] is to go through fear, look at it, surrender with grace and […]

  24. Thanks, Kristina (a year late!) Back to re-read and hopefully change my own perspective! Cheers.

  25. Sorry I didn't see this comment 47 weeks ago! Back in here to refresh my own mind about the sudden onset of fall and how to embrace it! Hope it helps me deal. Cheers 🙂

  26. Ugh is right. Re-reading now in hopes that it snaps me out of my resistance to it all (as if I can control time!).

  27. Susan says:

    Love this perspective, Lynn. I also rebel against fall because it is an end to my beloved summer and a prelude to impending winter. And I am a recent fan of Katarina Silva's beautiful photos…. lovely addition.

  28. […] sun sinks, leaves begin to fall, the land takes on the brown, ruddy hues of harvest, and animals prepare to hunker down or embark […]