Even Nature Rests

I’ve been waking up lately to a memory in 2023 where I was surrounded by magnificent trees in the middle of October when leaves were changing colors. You know that feeling when an event somehow mirrors what’s happening inside you? I was going through an autumn of my own.

That’s what I’m feeling right now.

Even though we don’t have autumn in the Philippines, the symbolism of the season feels so real. I sense the quiet ebbing of things, smoothly transitioning into something softer. A time to go within.

I felt it most true when I recently embraced a week of silence. I caught the flu, and it gave me permission to take a week to recover. I went all in. I used the opportunity to not speak for two days and spent most of the day meditating alone. The rest of the week, I used words sparingly – only speaking when necessary. That week gave me valuable lessons. The stillness that doesn’t speak but says a lot.

I also see that truth in a tree that is preparing for winter. A tree that lives in places where harsh winter comes has to adapt to its environment. In order for it to survive in negative temperatures, it must store nutrients and energy into its twigs, trunk and roots. There is a breaking that happens in the leaves that brings out the yellow and orange colors, while at the same time producing the red as a form of protection until the conserving of energy process is complete.

I sat with this and reflected some more. This showed me that, one, breaking can also bring out beauty. Two, being still doesn’t mean doing nothing — an invisible and complex process continues to happen within. Three, rest is part of the cycle of life. Instead of resisting winter, a tree elegantly and actively surrenders. It knows what and when to let go, leaving us all in awe with the amber, crimson and chestnut hues.

This brings me so much hope. So much tenderness. It’s like God is confirming: yes, it’s okay to rest. It’s okay to plan for rest. It’s okay to have downtime. There is nothing wrong with you. In fact, you’re just tapping into the intelligence of nature. After all, I am nature. I am intrinsically connected to it in every way.

I am in the middle of an autumn in my life right now. A changing of season. Instead of resisting this change, I am preparing for winter.

I’m not making any to-do lists. Instead, I’m listening more to my body. And what it’s telling me is to lean more into the softness of meditation. To look at everything I do everyday as a form of meditation: writing, reading, watering the plants, washing dishes, cooking, working with clients, etc. Right now feels like a time to integrate everything that has happened this year and the last couple of years. I’m putting all the lessons into pages and reviewing them. What lessons have I learned? How did the year play out? What did I learn about myself? How do I intend to use those lessons moving forward?

To be honest, it feels a little odd to be slowing down at a time when many people are hustling more to make the most of the year. I can feel my own judgment coming up. I used to berate myself for slacking. Being productive and busy used to make me feel good and important, but not anymore. Now, it just feels like an exhausting race that doesn’t go anywhere. Slowing down is forcing me to face myself and the emotions and thoughts I’ve tried to avoid. It makes me choose my actions more consciously, instead of just responding to the urgency around me (and from my critical self). Pausing before acting. Being more present.

As I write this, I’m gazing out of the window and I can’t help but feel the generosity that comes with just watching the clouds drift by. The fullness, the contentment, the enoughness of just being a watcher, a witness. There’s no rushing. There’s no point. Which is exactly the point.

Perhaps there’s more lessons we can learn from stillness than from doing more. I’m here for it. If you’re also navigating a change in your life, a transition, or just in the middle of confusion, please know that you’re not alone. I hope you’re able to find those small pockets of stillness, of pause, of breath all throughout your day. I believe those tiny gaps can connect us back to the most real part of ourselves.

May this metaphorical autumn season serve as a reminder that even nature rests.