Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. – Albert Camus

One result of growing older, for me, has been a strengthening of my affinity for the seasons. It seems to me that when I was in my 20s and 30s, I was so caught up in the happenings of my day-to-day life that the seasons came and went without my really noticing or caring. Now that I am in my 40s (and comfortably settled into the birdwatching phase of life), the seasons not only have symbolic value, but the change in seasons is also a time for embracing new energy and for celebrating that which nature offers us by cooking with seasonal ingredients and adding touches of seasonal decor to my home. 

And autumn is one of my favorite seasons. I never really got into pumpkin spice lattes (I’m something of a purist when it comes to coffee.), but I absolutely love fall produce, as well as seasonal herbs and spices. Butternut squash, acorn squash, sweet potatoes, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, escarole…I don’t think I’ve ever met a fall vegetable I didn’t like. Bringing autumn’s color palette into my home with seasonal accents in my dining room, living room and even my home office is also a fun way to feel part of the change in seasons. Indeed, I spent time yesterday afternoon collecting acorns to add to a DIY fall potpourri, which I hope to finish later this week. There are so many oak trees around my home that my backyard looks like a sea of acorns. I am busy looking for different ways to use them.

It is my feeling that, on a symbolic level, the seasons have a great deal to offer us. Each of the seasons, to my mind, is a metaphor for a different cosmic or universal energy, and these are energies that we, too, embody. For this reason, I thought it would be fun to create a self-fashioning narrative for each of the seasons. Last spring, I wrote about the spirit of eternal spring, which I called Woman of the Flowers. As I didn’t get the idea to include all the seasons until just a few days ago, I am afraid I missed summer…I’ll have to wait until next year to see how the goddess chooses to reinvent herself.

That said, the spirit of eternal autumn, for me, is the Woman of the Fallen Leaves. I almost called her Woman of the Harvest. There is, perhaps, a narrative to be written about the latter not only on the subject of hard work and reaping what we sow, but also on using our creativity to find abundance in each and every moment. Perhaps I’ll write that narrative next fall. This year, I’m embracing the energy of letting go, of releasing thoughts, behaviors, desires, and habits that do not serve me well, and the wisdom that comes with knowing when it is time to let something die so that something new can be born. That is the energy embodied by The Woman of the Fallen Leaves.

I hope you enjoy this brief narrative.

---

The Woman of the Fallen Leaves is the spirit of release. She knows when it is time to let go, even—and especially—when letting go is hard. She is the part of me that sees when I cling to ideas, habits, behaviors, people, or environments out of comfort, fear, or anxiety. She encourages me to let go of negative or outworn attachments so that I can grow in a positive direction. 

The Woman of the Fallen Leaves is quiet, reserved, and strong. Hers is the small voice in the back of my mind that reminds me when I am holding onto something for the wrong reasons or refusing to act in my own best interests. In those moments, I may even find her unlikable. Indeed, she is sometimes the harbinger of news I do not want to hear. She is a reminder to me that we cannot achieve inner freedom unless we are honest with ourselves, even when doing so is uncomfortable. 

The Woman of the Fallen Leaves also reminds me that many of the burdens we carry are a matter of perspective. A change in attitude is sometimes all it takes to transform a burden into a pleasant or, at least, tolerable experience. She knows when I suffer because I futilely resist that which I cannot change, rather than trying to find another, more productive way forward. She also knows when I emotionally overreact to a situation, and she asks me to take a deep breath and let it go.

As the spirit of eternal autumn, the Woman of the Fallen Leaves is both an agent of transformation and a metaphor for freedom and release. I call on her when I need to put down my burdens, when I need to change my attitude, and when I need to stop clinging, resisting, fighting, or suffering either because of something in my past or because of that which is outside of my control. She reminds me that, at all times, the power to enact the necessary change resides within me.