There is a beautiful structure in a garden in Sintra, Portugal called the Initiation Well. It is not a water well but a spiral staircase around a well like centre and when you get to the bottom you can look up to the sky but you can’t go back up. To get out you need to move through caves that come out into a grotto at the edge of a pond that is vibrant and alive with lush growth. For me autumn feels like this. I feel like I am part way down that spiral staircase - I can look up and see the trees but I can’t go back, there is only walking further down.
Photo Credits L-R: Cidada do Mundo, Michele Walker, Nuno Lopez, Michele Walker
Autumn’s work is transition. Even within autumn is a spiral that bridges the bright busy growth of summer to the dark, quiet of winter. I think the spiral is an apt image for this time of year, we are moving slowly into the lengthening dark, the cold seeps in, a slowness settles into my bones that feels right. When I honour this spiral descent, the approach of winter feels easier. It is like I hear the songs of winter’s rest echoing through the caves at the bottom, calling to me to come stay awhile. This means my work in this season of transition is to stop resisting the earth’s winter song. My mind wants to pull me towards an increasingly frenetic pace as we move toward the holiday season. As I quiet my mind, I hear the earth call me to let the slow pace of late autumn hold me. When I am held each step of the spiral offers me a place to pause and reflect. My bones know this pace. I will listen to the wisdom of my bones, they know, they are the earth within me.
The Earth's Unhurried Spiral:
A wander from autumn toward winter
Autumn is slowly turning toward winter. The days are shortening, the light is changing, and the living world is beginning to draw inward. There is a different rhythm emerging, one that asks less of doing and more of being.
We often move through our days according to the rhythms of our own making: schedules, responsibilities, expectations and the many things that call for our attention. But the Earth has another rhythm. They invite us into cycles of expansion and contraction, activity and rest, expression and quiet.
For this wander, imagine that you are walking a spiral. There is no destination to reach and nothing to accomplish. You are simply walking with the season, allowing the changing landscape to show you something about the art of slowing down.
As you begin
Take a moment to arrive. Feel your feet meeting the ground. Notice the air against your skin, the quality of the light and the sounds around you.
Set an intention to walk at the pace of the Earth rather than the pace of your usual day.
As you wander
Notice the ways the living world is changing. What is falling away? What is becoming quieter? What is retreating, resting or settling into the ground?
Let yourself be drawn toward something that catches your attention. It might be a tree, a fallen leaf, a seed head, a patch of moss or simply a particular quality of light.
Spend time with them. Resist the urge to move on too quickly.
Consider:
Where am I being invited to slow down?
What am I being invited to release?
What is asking for my attention beneath the busyness of my life?
What might I discover if I stopped trying to move forward and allowed myself to be where I am?
What does this season know about resting that I am still learning?
As you complete your wander
Find a place to pause. Imagine yourself somewhere along the spiral between autumn and winter. You haven't left autumn entirely, and winter hasn't fully arrived. You are in the beautiful in-between.
What would you like to carry with you into the quieter season? What might you leave behind?
Before returning, offer a gesture of gratitude to the place that has accompanied you.