I love autumn—the colours, the juxtaposition, the sense of pivot in the energy of the year.

I particularly love this early phase of the season, the first few weeks of encroaching change, the emerging sense of a winter yet to come. There is something beautiful about the feeling of both separation and stillness.

Walking in the park today, I was awestruck. I’ve just returned from a trip to Spain, and in the 10 days I’ve been gone, autumn has arrived. What hit me today was not just the beauty of the colours in the trees, but the contrast in their states. Some were a moist gold, some rich in redness, many still green and lush; others crisp and crunchy brown, already heavy with the weight of decay.

It’s clear to see that each navigates the change in season in their own time, in their own way, and that all are heavily influenced by nature, at the behest of her impact on them. Their growth, their change, their waning—all shaped by the environment around them. It seems that no matter how strong the roots, nature will still have her way.

And aren’t we as people just the same?

Impacted by the degree to which we face the light, influenced by the extent to which we find ourselves in other’s shade. Some days ripped apart by the winds that blow, other days safe in stillness and shelter. Throughout our time, we turn many shades of green, gold, red and brown, much of this out of our immediate control.

So what if we’d been planted somewhere different? If we’d taken seed in another place? What if on the day that we took root—and on any of the days that followed—the wind had blown in a different direction, the sun had failed to shine—how would our life be now?

We are all a few degrees away from a different existence, a few whispers away from so many different futures, and we are all a product of our ecosystem and its conditions. Even in the same macro environment—the world, the country, the city, the park—we are in the hands of the natural forces that impact us.

Most of us reading this are lucky to have been planted somewhere safe, warm, relatively sheltered and full of light. We are invited to bloom and blossom; we’ll be fed and watered and tended to when needed. Others are not so lucky.

So I’m learning to be grateful for where I grow and I’m trusting that this is my path.

I’m planting my roots, learning to bend with the winds that blow and trying not to fight it.

Because nature always has her way.

 

Author: Laura Beckingham

Image: Author’s own.

Editor: Nicole Cameron