... Let Go
“In autumn, the leaves and needles came down. They did this variously as many verbs beginning with the letter f attested—fall, flutter, fly, feint, float, frolic, flit, flail. For a few weeks in October, transience created a moment-by-moment spectacle.” ~Baron Wormser from The Road Washes Out in Spring.
Dear Reader,
Autumn is a cruel season. It's hard for me to look at these two photos taken just two months apart. I dislike saying goodbye to summer sunlight, fresh flowers and vegetables from the garden. Yet the earth keeps spinning, the cycles of nature continue, and here we are: November! The leaves have lost their color, loosened their grip, and are drifting, falling. No struggle, no resistance. Just a graceful letting go.
Scientifically, this process is called abscission. Using its innate genius, the tree responds to environmental clues that signal it’s time to release and let go. Less light and colder days alert the tree to preserve and protect itself from the coming freeze and lack of water. Nutrients are drawn back into the trunk and roots to store what will sustain the tree through winter. Each fallen leaf protects the tree, helps conserve its energy, and makes way for new growth in spring.
There is wisdom here for us.
For humans, letting go is rarely so effortless. When we lose places and people—it’s terribly hard. Harder still is letting go of our patterns, habits, and limiting beliefs that have served us so long that they have become part of our identity and story. Our brains are wired for familiarity. The neural pathways we repeat—our thoughts and emotional reactions—become well-worn trails that feel safe and known. Even when something no longer benefits us, the brain clings to it and can fool us into feeling safe. Trick us into believing things will last forever. Change activates our inner alarm system, sounding danger! when actually we might just be growing.
If only we could let go as easily as the trees release their leaves. Actually, we can learn to do this, gently and gradually, through mindfulness.
Mindfulness helps us notice the moment we begin to tighten our grip—when fear, control, or old conditioning keep us from releasing what might need to fall away. When we bring compassionate awareness and curiosity to these moments of clinging and resisting, the mind can begin to soften. Each breath can become an invitation to let go.
Through mindfulness, we begin to see that letting go doesn’t just mean losing something—it means making space for what will grow next.
These lines from Autumn Sonnets, by May Sarton, come to mind.
If I can let you go as trees let go
Their leaves, so casually, one by one;
If I can come to know what they do know,
That fall is the release, the consummation
Then fear of time and the uncertain fruit
Would not distemper the great lucid skies
This strangest autumn, mellow and acute.
If I can take the dark with open eyes
And call it seasonal, not harsh or strange
(For love itself may need a time of sleep),
And, treelike, stand unmoved before the change,
Lose what I lose to keep what I can keep,
The strong root still alive under the snow,
Love will endure - if I can let you go.
Sarton reminds us that beneath every letting go, something vital remains—“the strong root still alive under the snow.” Even when life feels barren or uncertain, unseen growth is happening within. The roots of our potential—creativity, wisdom, courage, and capacity for renewal—remain alive, waiting for their season to flourish.
Letting go is also about trust. The release asks us to have faith that what is essential within will endure, and that new growth will emerge in its time.
Journal Questions: As you walk among the last falling leaves of this month, take a moment to pause and breathe. Notice what's changing in your own life. Ask yourself:
- What patterns or habits have I outgrown or am I outgrowing?
- What am I holding onto simply because it’s familiar?
- What potential might be gathering strength beneath the surface?
- What have I lost or let go of this year and how can I honor the experiences? Can I sense the new space that remains and what might grow in its place?
Just like our sisters, the trees, we too are miraculous—we can trust in the changes and cycles, knowing that we are here to evolve with the seasons and to grow into fuller, truer expressions of ourselves.
Sending you some extra light in darkening days, with love always,
Jess
What I’m reading currently at the Barred Owl: RIP Baron Wormser I’m revisiting the works of a dear writing mentor, Baron Wormser—one of the wisest people I ever met—who just left us in October. This was a shocking and painful loss, but it created space for reflection on what I learned from this amazing teacher, how much I grew under his care. His loss also made me aware of a pattern and belief system that needed to be acknowledged and let go.
What I’m Listening To: Sound Journeys…Letting go of my full-time job at Clark University created time and energy to learn a new skill: sound healing. The Barred Owl offers seasonal Sound Journeys, or musical meditations, that join sound instruments like crystal and metal singing bowls, chimes, drums, etc…with a playlist. Please enjoy this aptly named playlist on Spotify Release and Receive .
If you are in the area, the upcoming Sound Journey dates are: November 16, December 7 & 14, 4-5:15 p.m.
Recorded Tonight: A 12-Minute Meditation for You!
Finally, Looking Forward: 2 Invitations to Upcoming Events...
- Announcing dates for the annual January Women's Weekend Retreat at Barred Owl: January 23-25, 2026!
- Join me in Quincy, MA in April where I'm excited to be a sponsor and speaker at Inspired Life! A Women's Weekend of Life, Light, & Laughter, April 11 & 12, 2026.
