Echoes: Patience—Sept 5
Autumn whispers patience, not with thunder or urgency, but with the slow and gentle release of leaves. They let go one at a time, as if each one carries a truth that knows the right moment to be revealed. The air turns crisp and I find myself waiting—waiting for the first frost to sketch a glass web across the windows, for the harvest moon to rise steady over bare fields, for the apple’s sweetness to deepen in the cool night air. I notice how the trees teach patience. They do not force their release. They wait until the wind gives permission, until the branches themselves feel ready to loosen their grip. There is no rush, only timing. And in me, that same stillness echoes back. A rhythm whispering: do not hurry what must unfold. The leaf knows when it is time to fall. The seed knows when it is time to root. Patience, I realize, is not silence. It is trust in the pace of the season, trust in the unseen work happening beneath the soil, trust that tomorrow will carry what t...