The end of summer is always bittersweet. As someone who loves warmer climates, the seasonal shift in New York brings the cold creeping in, but there’s still nothing quite like waking up to those gem-like leaves glimmering against the Manhattan and LIC skyline. (I’ll insert a picture below.)
There’s something about fall that invites slowness, coziness, and reflection. This week especially, I made homemade cinnamon rolls and curled up on the couch to watch my favorite Halloween-ish movie, Coraline. Each year, I treasure the first fall leaf I find and tuck it into my journal. I love the crunch of leaves under my feet, and the chill in the air gives me an excuse to stay inside with a good book and a warm cup of chamomile-lavender tea.
However, this week, as fall settles in, I can’t help but think of my grandmother, who passed away two years ago, the day after her favorite holiday, Halloween. I miss her with all my heart. Even though I know she’s gone, I still long to hear her voice, to hug her, to kiss her. My first instinct when those memories surface is to push them away, to remind myself that life goes on. “You have work to do, goals to finish, things to check off.” However, one of the lessons fall teaches us is that it’s okay to hold on for a while, and it’s also okay to let go.
This reminds me of something I learned recently in my religion course with the Maryam Institute’s foundational program: how nature reflects fitrah, or human nature. Just as God created the physical seasons (for us Northeasterners: fall, winter, spring, and summer), He also created spiritual seasons within us. Fall is that time when we witness the fading of life around us, the quiet death of plants, the migration of animals, and the world growing still. Yet, there’s beauty in that stillness, just as there’s beauty in letting go.
It’s beautiful to remember my grandmother during this season. The ache in my heart is proof of a love that transcends time and space. Through it, I’ve learned to honor her memory by being intentional in my actions by noticing beauty, savoring stillness, and embracing change.
In the same way, I’ve been learning to let things go in my own life. It’s okay to let things wilt. I’m intentionally choosing to release friendships and relationships that no longer serve me, to loosen my grip on ambitions that no longer inspire me, and to release the image of who I thought I should be by now. No more half-hearted plans or one-sided connections. It’s okay to let things fade without rushing to replace them.
There’s peace in letting go. The space I free by releasing what no longer nourishes me becomes room for what truly will. To me, that’s what fall is all about- making peace with change and trusting that even in loss, there is quiet beauty and room to grow. So as the season turns, I encourage you to take a little time for reflection. Just ten minutes (set a timer if you have to) and write whatever comes from your heart. You might be surprised by what surfaces when you slow down and listen. That simple act of stillness can be healing in ways you don’t expect. You are deserving of that time, that gentleness, and that peace. Let yourself fall into reflection (pun intended, sorry), and trust that giving yourself permission to let things wilt makes room for what truly matters.