Autumn is typically thought of as a season of letting go, a time of transition. If the leaves didn’t die, there would be no necessary Winter incubation of the new growth we experience in the blossoming Spring and then the deep Summer green we rest into. And there would be no return of this bittersweet time of year as we watch the stunning gold and red leaves die and turn brown. The cycle of birth, growth, and transition would end.

Our personal cycle as human beings is no different than that of the natural world. When we allow that which we no longer need to drop away, space is made for what is needed to enter and take hold. Each time we allow this cycle to occur, we transform and awaken a bit more to the life that flows through us.

So, I invite you to use this time to ask yourself, What in me is ready to let go because it no longer serves me?

Notice I didn’t say, “what do I need to let go of.” This is about letting happen, not making happen. When Autumn comes and the leaf starts to die, it is trying to let go of the branch. The tree doesn’t have to push it away, tear it off, or even nudge it. The leaf will let go and fall away when it’s time. It knows that it no longer serves the tree as a source of light and beauty and simply lets go.

What in me is ready to let go because it no longer serves me?

Whatever the answer to that question is, it also knows when it’s time to fall away. That’s part of its job. It served us, sometimes in ways we can’t understand, until it is no longer needed. Instead of pushing it away or trying to rip it out, we can make space for what is needed to come in to serve us. And trust me, it will.

I’m tired of trying to let go of stuff, of the push-pull effort that this requires, and besides I really don’t think it works that way. The idea of allowing this process to happen gives me hope and relief and invites rest. It’s natural and gentle just like the leaves falling from the trees.

So, what in me is ready to let go and fall away because it no longer serves me?

I have some ideas. Like you, I pretty much know what in me has outlived its usefulness. Can I be like the trees I love so much and let nature take its course? Can I let happen and not make happen? I look out my window and the trees in my yard wave their branches, encouraging me to trust their example, to do as they do, to wait, allow and rest until spring when what’s needed shows up right on time.