Let It Fall: What Leaves Know About Release

The leaves are falling now.

Not drifting, not fluttering—but letting go. Some with grace. Some in wild, wind-whipped spirals. Some barely noticeable. Others impossible to ignore.

And I watch them—not with sadness, but with something close to awe.

Because the trees don’t seem worried. They don’t cling or overthink. They don’t ask, “But who will I be without this branch-full of colour?”

They just let it fall.

The Wind Doesn’t Ask for Permission

This week, a sudden gust came through the woods, lifting a swirl of leaves into the air, scattering them like thoughts I hadn’t dared to speak aloud.

It reminded me of the stories we carry too long. The roles we’ve outgrown but still perform. The ways we shrink to fit something we no longer are.

Sometimes, the wind comes and lifts what we’re not ready to release.

And we’re left wondering if the emptying is a mistake.

But what if it isn’t?

Release Isn’t the Same as Loss

In therapy, there’s often a moment when a client says, “I don’t know who I am without that.”A job. A relationship. A coping strategy. A belief that once kept them safe.

It’s a holy moment. One that deserves gentleness, not rush.

Because letting go doesn’t mean failure. It means you’ve outlived something. It means it served you, and now… it doesn’t.

Like the trees, we get to choose when to hold and when to release. And sometimes, the body knows before the mind does. Sometimes the wind whispers before we’re ready to listen.

A Season That Doesn’t Apologise

Autumn doesn’t beg for summer to stay. It doesn’t regret the colour change.It just lets it happen.

And maybe that’s the work for us too.

To trust the parts of us that are ready to fall away. To soften our grip on old versions of ourselves.To stop asking permission to change.

You’re allowed to let go. Even if it’s messy. Even if you don’t know what comes next.Especially then.

Let the wind take what’s no longer yours to carry.

Sarah x