A Story of Change: Welcome October

The Sacred Season of Release

Hey family,

The air is shifting. The mornings are cooler. The light hits differently now. And if you pay attention, nature is preaching a sermon — one about timing, trust, and transformation.

We often think of autumn as just a change in weather or a season for homecomings, football games, and cozy sweaters. But spiritually, emotionally, and mentally, this time of year holds so much more. It’s not just about the leaves changing color — it’s about us changing too.

Autumn is a mirror. It reflects back to us the rhythm of release. The trees don’t hold onto what’s dying. They don’t cling to leaves out of fear of being bare. They let go — fully and gracefully — trusting that in due time, new life will come. There’s something sacred in that surrender.

For many of us, this is a season of harvest and release. It’s both/and. The harvest invites us to take stock of the fruit of our labor — the goals we set, the work we’ve done, the growth we’ve experienced, and the healing that’s happened quietly within. Maybe this was a year of transition, loss, or waiting. Maybe you didn’t see the kind of “fruit” you expected. But harvest is not always about what’s visible. It’s about recognizing what took root — resilience, patience, clarity, wisdom. That, too, is abundance.

And then there’s release — the act of loosening our grip on what no longer serves our becoming. That can look like so many things: letting go of control, of resentment, of unrealistic timelines, of habits or identities we’ve outgrown. Sometimes release means forgiving yourself for how long it took to heal. Sometimes it means allowing joy back in after a long drought.

The trees remind us: release isn’t punishment. It’s preparation.

We can’t move into the next season carrying what belongs to the last. The same way the earth must shed before it rests, we too must empty ourselves of the old to make room for the new.

Winter is coming — not as a warning, but as a promise. Winter is the sacred pause. It’s the stillness that nourishes what’s next. Spiritually, winter is the womb — a place of restoration and gestation, where ideas, prayers, and intentions take root underground before they’re seen. If we skip the letting go that fall calls for, we enter winter restless and burdened instead of rested and ready.

So, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:

• What am I being invited to harvest — to celebrate and give thanks for?

• What am I being invited to release — to surrender without resistance?

• What am I preparing for — in this next season of rest and renewal?

Coming Home

For many of us, autumn is also homecoming season. We go back to our alma maters, revisit old neighborhoods, reconnect with familiar faces. There’s joy in that — the music, the laughter, the nostalgia. But this year, I want you to think about what it means to truly come home.

Coming home isn’t always about a place. It’s about presence. It’s about returning to yourself — the version of you that existed before life’s noise, before the “shoulds,” before the fear. Coming home means resting in who you are without striving or performing. It’s remembering that your worth was never tied to productivity or perfection.

This is the time to come home to your body — to listen to what it’s asking for.
Come home to your mind — to unclutter your thoughts and make peace with your past.
Come home to your spirit — to reconnect with your Source, your peace, your truth.

You are your own sanctuary. You don’t have to chase home. You can be home.

The Spiritual Invitation of Fall

Spiritually, autumn invites reflection and repentance — not in the religious sense of guilt, but in the healing sense of realignment. It’s a season to ask: Where have I been out of rhythm with my purpose? Where have I been giving too much or hiding too much?

Mentally, it’s a season to declutter — to let your mind breathe. Simplify your commitments. Clean out the emotional closets that have been collecting dust. Remember that peace requires space.

Emotionally, fall is tender. It’s the in-between — not quite summer’s bloom, not yet winter’s stillness. It’s a time to honor both joy and grief. Every ending brings some sadness, even when we know it’s for our good. Allow yourself to feel it all. Every leaf that falls is both beautiful and necessary.

Trusting the Cycle

Nature teaches us that endings are not failures — they’re invitations to trust the cycle. There will be another spring. There will be new growth. There will be a season where everything that seems dormant comes back in bloom.

But for now, the sacred work is to slow down, to reflect, to release. To let gratitude and grace do their quiet work in your heart.

This is your reminder that you can’t miss what’s meant for you. You can’t outgrow what’s aligned with you. And you can’t hold onto what your soul is asking you to release.

So as the leaves fall and the air turns crisp, remember:
You are not losing. You are lightening.
You are not being stripped. You are being revealed.
You are not ending. You are evolving.

This fall, give yourself permission to let go — and trust that what’s next will meet you right where you are.

With love and light,
Adrianne
Founder, B. Well: Live Consciously