Finding Ground in the Seasons of Change

It’s back-to-school season, and the rhythms of fall are coming back to prominence in our lives again. Changing seasons bring both excitement and apprehension; we shed our old routines—and perhaps the freedom from routine—to make room for something new. Our hearts and minds can struggle to stay grounded through this change, choosing either to move quickly into a pumpkin-spiced lifestyle or to sour from the loss of lemonade-soaked afternoons.

For many years, I was lucky to spend each day teaching outdoors in Yosemite Valley. I would drive past Yosemite Falls in the morning and note its flow, which around this time of year would reach a trickle. One lone sugar maple, planted a century ago, would begin its autumn transformation to brilliant maple red earlier than the oaks surrounding it. Temperatures dropped, bringing frost that covered the meadows and shimmering rainbow dewdrops in the morning sun.

Being close to such stunning beauty and the natural world’s constant change brought a new awareness and sense of calm to my own journey through the seasonal changes within me.

One of my favorite activities to teach was the Sit Spot. Each day of a program, we would seek out the same space away from visitors and sit for 5–15 minutes with a journal. The goal was simply to be silent and notice the environment coming to life as we settled in and opened our senses.

An otherwise quiet group of trees became a symphony of birds, squirrels, and insects. Our eyes might follow with delight the dance of dragonflies over the meadow, shift to a White-headed Woodpecker crawling upward on an incense cedar in perfect corkscrew fashion, and then settle on two ants dragging a crumb across the pine straw.

We would feel the crunch of leaves and smell the butterscotch-vanilla scent of the cedar trees. We might draw, journal, or paint what we noticed and what we felt. The next day, week, or month, we would return and watch the scene slowly unfold again, noting what had changed.

The traditional practice of mindfulness can be difficult, especially in our busy lives. While we often think of mindfulness as something best practiced on a cushion in a quiet room, the practices of noticing—I am having the thought that…—and naming—I am feeling…—can also be brought into our encounters with the natural world.

In fact, bringing mindfulness to the trees, birds, sounds, and sensations around us can offer an easier place to begin practicing nonjudgmental noticing and naming. Building the skill of sensory awareness without attachment can gradually increase our capacity to notice our own thoughts, feelings, and behaviors in the same way.

Try a Sit Spot Where You Live

Backyards, public parks, state parks, and schoolyards are all great places to begin. Find a comfortable place where you won’t be interrupted too much by other people, put your phone on silent and out of sight, and open your senses. Keep a journal nearby to note what you see and how you feel as you tune into your environment.

Ask yourself:

• What do you notice?

• How many shades of green or brown can you count?

• How many different sounds can you hear?

• What captivates your attention most?

• What is something new that you noticed?

• How did you feel before, during, and after sitting?

Return to the same spot daily, weekly, or monthly and notice how the sensory experience changes from visit to visit. Let each visit be an opportunity to welcome a new experience as it is—the gradual unfolding of time and place, and another step toward finding our place within the great web of change.

The gradual shift from summer to autumn can easily pass us by. We can miss the dewdrop refracting rainbows or fail to catch the leaves releasing their verdant hues. Opening our senses in the present moment, noticing and naming what we experience, and deepening our connection to our environment can help ground us through our own seasons of change.

https://www.beyondthemirror.org/scotthickeyWritten by, Scott Hickey