The Season of Letting Go

Every year, fall reminds me that letting go is its own kind of wisdom. The leaves don’t rush. They loosen slowly — one breath at a time — trusting that what falls will make way for what’s next.

In therapy, we often talk about this season of the psyche: the time between what was and what will be. It can feel uncertain, raw, or quiet in a way that’s uncomfortable. Yet this in-between is fertile. It’s where rest begins to take root.

Lately, I’ve been leaning into a small ritual that helps me remember this: making soup. The chopping, the simmering, the waiting — all of it insists on slowness. You can’t hurry a good broth. It needs time and heat and patience. So do we.

If this season feels like one of transition for you, maybe this weekend you could try your own version of a fall ritual. Light a candle. Make soup. Step outside and notice the trees doing what they’ve always known how to do — releasing what no longer serves them, quietly preparing for rest.

Healing, too, asks for this rhythm: to release gently, to trust the quiet, and to remember that everything cycles back toward life again.