A lesson from fall
Hello, Terriers! Editor-in-Chief, Caroline Maas, here. As the leaves are beginning to change color and the air sheds its normal layer of humidity, my soul is singing at the promise of fall’s return. It is a magical time of year, indeed.
There has always been something so compelling to me about autumn, a restful liminality that allows fall, the season between the two extremes of summer and winter, to simply exist as it is. It is a paradox, I suppose, that fall seems so safely nestled between the hottest and coldest seasons of the year when we all know that fall is fleeting and will leave just as quickly as it has arrived. But I’ve been thinking recently that there’s something we can learn from this season.
We are all liminal creatures, stuck in between one season and another; in a way, we are all our own breed of autumn. We have all been trained to hold a constant posture of waiting: for the weekend, for graduation, for the grade or the acceptance letter, for the right person to come along. We have bought into the lie that this moment is not good enough, so we must always be holding our breath for the next. But as fleeting as fall is, it has Presence down to science.
In a season that seems to be filled with nothing but talk of the next season, I invite you to indulge in the gift of right now. I beg you to sink deeply into the ground you stand on, with both feet firmly planted and let yourself be distracted by the vitality of the world around you. Have conversations that last for longer than you’ve allotted in your agenda. Ask people how they are and really listen to hear the answer. Delete Instagram for a week. Ask a friend to go on a walk. If you start to feel anxious, write down three things you are thankful for at that exact moment in time. Call your mom. Write your grandpa a letter. Kick off your shoes and lie down in the grass. Fuel your body with food that came straight from the Earth and remind yourself how deeply a part of it you are. Forgive yourself. Forgive others. Pay for the meal of the person standing behind you in line at Chick-Fil-A. Say “thank you” and “I love you,” and if you don’t mean it, say it until you do.
It is these things that I am trying to remember myself: that this season will pass, and we will soon be waiting on another phone call, another acceptance letter and rushing to meet another deadline. The world is predictable in that sense. But the sky will never be the exact same color as it is right this moment and your roommates will never be dying laughing in the same disjointed harmony as they are this very second. Be sure to remember to show up this season, to really show. Show up for yourself and for others. This is our invitation. This is the dance. And I, for one, can’t wait to join in.
Wishing you the happiest fall season,
Caroline Maas, editor-in-chief
