In a quiet village surrounded by hills ablaze with autumn colors, there was a small garden tended by a woman. Every year, as the leaves turned golden and the air grew crisp, she would prepare her garden for the coming winter. She took pride in her careful planning, arranging each plant with precision, hoping to preserve the beauty of summer for just a little longer.
But this autumn was different. The winds were stronger, the frosts came earlier, and nothing seemed to go as she had planned. One morning, after a night of particularly fierce winds, she walked outside to find her garden in disarray. The carefully planted mums had been uprooted, the vibrant leaves scattered, and the paths she had so meticulously cleared were covered in debris.
Anger welled up inside her. It felt like everything she had worked so hard for had been ruined in a single night. She knelt in the garden, her hands trembling, not knowing whether to cry or scream. The change felt unfair, as if the world was conspiring against her plans.
As she sat there, her anger burning hot, a gentle breeze stirred the fallen leaves, carrying with it a whisper of something she couldn’t quite grasp. She clenched her fists, trying to hold on to the remnants of her plans, but the more she resisted, the more the anger seemed to consume her.
Finally, exhausted, she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. She began to notice the quiet around her—the rustling of leaves, the distant call of birds. She felt the earth beneath her, steady and strong, as if it was telling her to let go. Slowly, reluctantly, she released her clenched fists and let the anger slip away.
In that moment of surrender, she opened her eyes and saw her garden anew. The scattered leaves, once a symbol of her frustration, now looked like a beautiful tapestry woven by the wind. The uprooted flowers, though out of place, seemed to whisper of resilience, of life continuing even when it was disrupted.
She began to understand that the changes she had fought so hard against were part of a larger, natural cycle—one that she was a part of, whether she accepted it or not. Her garden was teaching her something she hadn’t been ready to learn: that life, like the seasons, is full of change, and that clinging too tightly to plans only leads to pain.
With a heavy heart, but one that was slowly lightening, she started to clear the debris, not to restore her garden to its former state, but to make room for what was to come. She rearranged the plants, not according to her original plans, but to where they seemed to want to grow. She embraced the chaos, knowing that it, too, had its place.
As she worked, she felt the anger begin to melt away, replaced by a deep, aching acceptance. It wasn’t easy—it never would be—but there was a quiet strength in letting go, in allowing things to be as they are, rather than as she wished them to be.
By the time the first snow fell, her garden was not what she had envisioned at the start of the season. It was something different, something unexpected, and in many ways, something more beautiful. The garden had changed, and so had she. In embracing the changes, she found peace, not in the perfection of her plans, but in the acceptance of what life had given her.
And so, as the last leaves fell and winter settled in, she stood in her garden, her heart full—not of anger, but of a quiet, enduring love for the beauty that comes when we learn to let go.
Additional Thoughts
Changes in life can be unbearably difficult. We don’t talk often enough, in our society, about the different forms of grief. Grieving the loss of what you thought life would look like, the grief of expectations, the grief of starting over whether in small or big ways. In order to reach acceptance, we must allow ourselves to grieve first and then embrace the journey of cultivating new meaning.
In order to reach acceptance, we must allow ourselves first to grieve and then embrace the journey of cultivating new meaning.
The psychologist Viktor Frankl was well acquainted with loss, change and starting over as a survivor of the Auschwitz concentration camps and in his book Man’s Search for Meaning he writes: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms-to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way."
In my life we have needed to start over multiple times. Sometimes it was easier and under more pleasant circumstances, but in others the starting over was due to painful circumstances. But with each starting over came more resilience and strength. Although many times I resisted the change, embracing it made me better in the end and brought forth true peace and contentment. So, little by little I unclench my hands a little more and learn that the secret to a more peaceful and joy filled life is learning to be content in every circumstance.
But with each starting over came more resilience and strength.
If you want to have a printed copy of the autumn story to keep, download the file available below. Additionally, you can participate in a bonus activity to improve your ability to release and let go.
To deeper explore this topic, check out our previous blog: Embracing the Change of Autumn
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