As you learn to let go, you are also free to imagine what you could be. Even here, in October, you are free to observe and notice what flowers still bloom alongside the changing, crumbling leaves. For after everything you have been through, and for all of the “letting go’s” and “goodbyes” that have taken shape, today, is still a brand new day.
And I know that today being a brand new day doesn’t change everything. It doesn’t make uncertainty go away or absence suddenly feel resolved. But perhaps, as sunlight filters through the leaves that remain steady on the trees and flowers appear on window sills and places you might not even expect, you are still free to imagine what continuity might mean: a way of staying with what is present, even as things keeps shifting. For perhaps, even here, you are free to consider: how change might hold more than one thing at once.
And if something in you seeks to welcome this kind of being present in any way, may you know it doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. Even a simple question is more than enough to soften into a space where imagination begins to feel less like an escape and more of an entry point into noticing what is already taking shape, even here, in the wild of October.
Perhaps, you might ask yourself…
What could begin now?
What might start again?
What has been here all along, just waiting to be seen?
Let this season be what it needs to be while also knowing, you are still free to dream. You are still free to notice what blooms, what endures, what returns, and what reminds you, you are free to cultivate a sense of aliveness, right here.
As fallen leaves and flowers can exist within the same landscape, “letting go” and “continuing on” can share the same space, too: what releases and what remains form a rhythm that both end up shaping you, and you discover what remains after letting go: A space to imagine what continues to take shape. – Morgan Harper Nichols
