Learning to Let Go: What the Falling Leaves Teach Us

There’s a moment in early fall when the first leaf drifts to the ground, and I’m reminded that letting go can be beautiful.

Dear Gentle Soul:

Nature’s Gentle Lesson

Every autumn, nature puts on a quiet but powerful display. The trees, once bursting with lush green leaves, begin to turn brilliant shades of gold, crimson, and amber. And then, almost as if on cue, they release them—leaf by leaf—into the crisp autumn air.

The falling leaves remind us that life is a cycle: growth, harvest, release, rest. Without shedding the old, trees could not prepare for the winter’s rest or make space for new growth in the spring. Letting go is not about loss—it’s about trust. It’s about believing that release is part of the rhythm that brings renewal.

What We Hold On To

If I’m honest, there have been times when I’ve clung too tightly to things long past their season. A project that drained my energy but that I couldn’t quite put down. A relationship I kept trying to mend even when it was clear it had run its course. Old habits that weighed me down more than they lifted me up.

The truth is, holding on takes effort. Carrying too much—whether it’s regrets, clutter, or even outdated goals—leaves us exhausted. Just like a tree laden with too many dead leaves, we can’t stand tall when we refuse to release what no longer serves us.

The Practice of Release

Letting go doesn’t happen in one dramatic moment. It’s a practice—something we return to again and again, like the seasons. Here are a few gentle ways to start:

• Journaling: Write freely about what you’re ready to release. Sometimes putting words on paper brings clarity.

• Decluttering: Let go of physical items that no longer bring joy or purpose. A clear space creates a clearer mind.

• Forgiveness exercises: Whether it’s forgiving someone else or yourself, choosing compassion lightens the load.

For a more symbolic practice, try a “leaf-letting ritual.” Write down what you’re ready to release on a paper leaf. Then place it safely in a fire pit and let the flames transform it into ash. This act can be deeply freeing—a physical representation of the release happening within.

Closing Reflection

This fall, may we follow the wisdom of the trees. May we release what no longer serves us—projects past their time, regrets that weigh us down, habits that no longer align. And in the space we create, may we welcome something new: a sense of peace, a fresh start, a lighter spirit.

Because just as the trees trust that spring will come again, we too can trust that letting go opens the door for growth yet unseen.

Blessings for a beautiful fall and season of “letting go”.

Beth