To grow, you've got to let go
In every fall, there's hope for spring
The days grow shorter, the nights stretch long, and the air turns cool around my favorite banyan tree. The leaves are gold and crimson now, ready to drop. The wind is a restless spirit, pushing everything forward, pushing everything towards an end.
An old banyan stands tall, roots buried deep in the earth. Its branches reach out like a tired giant. Aren’t all leaves memories? Each a piece of the past, painted with sun and rain.
As the chill of fall permeates the atmosphere, I feel a wild energy, a readiness for what's next, for shedding the old.
Bees aren't buzzing around much anymore. Their dance has slowed. They're getting ready too, storing up for the cold. I miss their company, their constant hum in endless summer days. Pansy flowers at the base of the tree are curling up, withering, leaving behind seeds for spring. It's all part of the deal.
The shedding starts. Leaves drop one by one, hitting the ground, making a soft, rustling blanket. I watch old grandparent leaves wither & drift, leaving these dry branches naked. Clearing space for fresh growth to emerge. It's a bittersweet thing, necessary but not easy. The banyan needs to make way for new shoots. For something fresh. The clouds gather more now, heavily pregnant with rain. They burst, drenching everything, washing over the tree, cleansing the dirt. Raindrops hit the bark, cool and refreshing. Even in letting go, there’s growth. The banyan drinks it in, roots soaking up every drop, getting ready for the months ahead.
The ants are busy, scurrying along the trunk, always moving, always working. They're prepping for winter, storing food, finding shelter. Their hustle is a mirror of the tree’s quiet resolve. We're all part of this grand cycle. The birds, the banyan's feathered friends, sing their goodbyes. They're heading south, leaving promises in their songs that they'll be back, just like the leaves.
Fall brings a kind of peace, a time to reflect.
To grow, you’ve got to let go. The banyan’s branches will be bare for a while, but they're never empty. They’re just waiting, holding space for what's next. I feel grounded, connected to the earth and sky, part of something bigger.
As I watch the banyan shed its leaves, I think about my own need to let go. Lately, I’ve been struggling with my ego and expectations. I wanted things to go a certain way, to meet goals I set for myself, to live up to others’ expectations. But holding on to all that has been exhausting. I remember a time when I clung to a particular project at work. I poured everything into it, convinced that its success defined my worth. When things didn’t go as planned, I felt crushed. My ego was bruised, my expectations shattered. I carried the weight of that failure, unable to let it go, unable to move on.
As the last leaf falls, I sit here, feeling the stillness of the season, knowing that beneath the surface, new life is getting ready to emerge.
The shoots will come, green and tender, reaching for the sun. The banyan will be ready, having shed the old to make way for the new. This is the raw, wild truth of life, a cycle that keeps me grounded and hopeful.
In every ending, there's a beginning. With every fall, there’s hope for spring.
What are you ready to let go of to make space for new growth?
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Here are some I am proud of writing :)
If you’re reading this, you’re part of a wonderful community that makes me feel so much less alone. You’re my friend, even if we’ve never met, and you mean more to me—and probably to others—than you might realize. Even those who might seem distant often quietly appreciate the unique person you are.
I love you!
Nature is brimming with poetry, if you just take the time to listen. This 9-page guide offers everything you need to dive into the beauty of nature with a poet’s eye. From choosing the right location to engaging all five senses, this guide will help you unlock the writing potential hidden in leaves, birdsongs, and morning dew. Bonus resources included for even more inspiration!
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So nice, so peaceful, so deep. You’re a beautiful and sensitive soul, Mohika.
Mo!! How beautiful each and every word, gripping, meaningful, relatable, interesting and insightful. Who ever is going through the phase of non accomplishments can find hope, there always is hope and the mindset to keep going. Thanks for making my day today. Needed to hear something like this.
I love you.