Gathering Light: Finding Stillness in Autumn

There’s a particular stillness that arrives with autumn. The light softens, the air sharpens, and the trees begin their slow release. Each year I notice how this season invites me to pause — to take stock, to gather what has grown, and to let go of what no longer needs to be carried.

On my walks recently, I’ve been thinking about how differently we can sense autumn. The chill and scent in the air on a late September morning signal, for me, that the season has begun its quiet turn. Trees and pathways shift in colour; leaves crunch underfoot; the light — that distinct, golden light — casts long shadows and transforms the mood of familiar places. Autumn is an arrival and a departure at once. It is full of contrasts: warmth and chill, colour and decay, fullness and retreat. Perhaps that’s why it resonates so deeply — it speaks to our own cycles of holding on and letting go, of movement and stillness.

I’ve been collecting fallen leaves on these walks, for my craft projects, noticing how each one tells its own story of change. The reds, oranges, yellows, and greens often coexist within a single leaf. What fascinates me most is that the red, hidden throughout summer, only reveals itself when the leaf begins to let go of its green chlorophyll, and what we see as transformation is also revelation: it is in letting go that something new — something that has always been there — becomes visible. I think about this in the context of my work with therapy clients and in my personal life. There are seasons of growth, and there are seasons of release. Both are necessary. Sometimes we need to loosen our hold - on habits, expectations, even identities - to rediscover parts of ourselves that have long been waiting for light.

Autumn is a reminder that endings are not failures. They are a natural rhythm, part of a wider pattern that allows renewal to happen. When the trees rest, the world doesn’t stop; it prepares. And we too, can permit ourselves to find stillness — to pause between what has been and what is yet to come.

Perhaps this is what autumn invites: to slow down, to notice the subtleties of change, to let go gently and trust that something essential remains. In this turning of the season, there is a lesson about patience, about returning to ourselves, and about the beauty that can emerge when we allow things — and ourselves — to rest.

Warmest regards, Catherine

© Room Fourteen Reflections, UK — psychotherapy, creativity, and wellbeing.