Every plant and tree that cycles through the seasons knows that at some point, it is time to return inward and be held by the Earth. They don’t fight it and continue pouring their energy into their fruit until they know it’s time to turn inward or die. They surrender fully to the season and even continue expressing themselves and growing. The land has been whispering that there’s much more to surrender and it doesn’t always mean giving up. Surrendering can be joyful, even pleasurable.

The golden glow of summer is present but slowly fading. Fruits are ripe as the land continues to give, and the Earth’s love for us can be seen, felt, and tasted. There’s much to celebrate and much to grieve. Burning land, displacement, and smoke-tinged air offer potent reminders of where we are. It feels like too much more often than not. Then I remember these cycles, even human-created, will continue with or without me and that soft spaces are needed. The Nurturing Mother of late summer holds out her bountiful arms to nurture our grief. Soft spaces exist to grieve and be held but sometimes need to be cultivated from within.