Autumn truly is a magical time of year in this corner of the world. Nearly every morning this week, I caught my breath and relaxed my hands walking out the door. Clouds hang low, colors are bold and saturated, the temperatures are crisp enough to invite a sweater yet warm enough in sunny pools to encourage taking it off.
It's also a moment of transition. As layers go on, I imagine myself forming a cocoon.
Did you know that a caterpillar's cocoon in actually it's skin hardening? Gross, but stay with me. I learned that at a butterfly workshop over the summer, and my mind was blown. I don't know what I thought a cocoon was made of, but I certainly hadn't considered the possibility that the caterpillar becomes the cocoon. Inside, it turns to mush before rebuilding itself into a butterfly. And isn't that sort of like what we do as the weather cools?
We pull on sweaters and wool socks, fish long johns out of winter storage bins, and cozy in close. More time is made for journaling and reflection after the garden is put to rest. Suddenly, all the introspection that was pushed to the side on hot days comes rushing in. It challenges my perceptions of self and purpose, and pushes me to rebuild better.
Each season offers opportunity. Each year has the potential for cyclical transformation. Each fall is a softly spoken challenge to slow down, shift inwards, and question self. The question, then, is who we want to build ourselves back as, and what kind of cocoon will get us there.
