Nature moves in cycles. Growth and decay. Rest and renewal. Expansion and contraction. Each season has its own purpose, its own wisdom.
Yet modern culture asks us to keep producing, progressing, and reaching for more. Remembering that we are nature, too, invites us to trust our own rhythms and honor every season of being.
During a walk through one of my favorite places, Oakwood Cemetery, I looked up and spotted the moon hanging in a brilliant blue October sky. Surrounded by autumn trees and the lives of people who came before me, I felt an unexpected sense of awe, gratitude, and connection. I began thinking about all the people whose lives helped make my own possible, including people I'll never meet.
From ancestors and teachers to friends and those whose influence continues long after they're gone, we're shaped by people whose gifts we carry forward. This is a reflection on lineage, gratitude, and remembering that we're part of a much longer story than our own.
Have you ever struggled to learn something, only to discover that it suddenly feels easier after you've stopped trying? I experienced this during my Feldenkrais training, when a movement that had felt nearly impossible one day became surprisingly accessible two weeks later. Something had shifted, even though I hadn't been consciously working on it.
I started thinking about the fertile darkness, those periods when change may be happening beneath the surface, beyond what we can see or measure. Especially in midlife, there's something valuable about learning to trust the process, give ourselves room to integrate, and recognize that growth doesn't always announce itself.
