There is something about Autumn that feels like standing at a high overlook and suddenly being able to see farther than you could before.
Maybe that is part of the wisdom of this season.
We spend so much of our lives down among the trees—living the days, solving the problems, tending to what needs us—that we don’t always recognize how much has changed until we have enough distance to see it.
Autumn gives us that distance.
It is a season of harvest, but I don’t think everything we harvest can be held in our hands. Sometimes the harvest is wisdom. A decision finally made. A boundary we learned to honor. Something we understand about ourselves now that we couldn’t have understood a year ago.
And while the trees are turning color and the fields are finishing their work, something else is quietly happening.
The next season of life is already being planted.
Seeds don’t wait for spring to begin their story. They enter the earth in darkness. They rest there. They gather what they need long before anyone sees evidence of what they will become.
Perhaps we do this too.
So this Autumn, I’m less interested in asking, What do I need to let go of?
I want to ask:
What have I gathered from the season behind me?
And what do I want to quietly plant for the life ahead?
Maybe Autumn isn’t only a beautiful ending.
Maybe it is the place where endings and beginnings sit beside one another—and for a little while, we get to hold both.
With love,
Clarissa
This Month's Gatherings
Saturdays - 10AM
September 15 - 7PM
From Soul Notes
Last week, while traveling, I wandered into an antique shop looking for a bell to use in my healing space.
And somehow, I came home with an elephant. 🐘
This beautiful vintage elephant bell caught my attention, and once I learned more about its history, I became fascinated by everything such a small object could represent.
Strength.
Memory.
Sacred sound.
If these words spoke to your heart, I invite you to continue reading this Soul Note.
Around the Studio
Be Brave Enough to Dream
I found this little garden tucked between some shops while exploring in a new town and something about it made me stop.
Maybe it was the unexpectedness of finding this welcoming place to sit and rest in the middle of everything.
Or maybe it was the message waiting there:
“Be Brave Enough to Dream.”
I love those words.
We often talk about having the courage to do something—to make the change, take the chance, begin again, walk through the door.
But what about the courage it takes simply to dream?
