Conversations with the Autumn Trees  

(A Reflection on Gratitude, Authenticity, and the Seasons of the Soul)

Many times when I’m writing or creating positive, upbeat graphics, I feel compelled to take a pause. As an empath, it’s not always easy to radiate light when my energy feels guarded or defensive. There are moments when I sense I’m being taken advantage of or that my spirit—the very essence of my “spice”—is being disrespected.

The other day, as I drove down Highway 109 surrounded by the shifting hues of fallc I caught myself noticing only the dull brown leaves swirling through the air, and feeling weary of the endless hum of leaf blowers. Then, almost as if a whisper reached from the trees themselves.

I heard, “Yes… but look at me—really look at me.” Before me stood a single tree ablaze in brilliant orange, mesmerizing in its beauty. In that instant, every tree revealed its own stage of transformation, creating a breathtaking mosaic of change. My thoughts softened, and I realized how deeply blessed I am to witness this miraculous unfolding every day on my journey.

As I continued my drive, I found myself speaking aloud to the trees, thanking them for their beauty in every phase of their existence. I told them how much I cherish Autumn—the season that reminds us that letting go can be breathtakingly beautiful. I felt their quiet strength surround me, a sense of elegant support that asked for nothing in return. In that moment, I understood that I can’t share words of light and positivity without first allowing myself to be real—to feel the weariness, the defensiveness, and even the frustration. Perhaps being a “hypocrite” isn’t the right word at all; maybe it’s being human, learning to find gratitude even while still transforming.

The trees reminded me that authenticity doesn’t mean perfection—it means showing up in every season of my soul with honesty, grace, and the willingness to grow.

So now, when I sit down to write or create something inspiring, I remember that authenticity is its own kind of beauty. The trees didn’t hide their fading colors or fallen leaves; they offered them freely as part of their story. And maybe that’s what we’re all meant to do—share our light even when it flickers, speak gratitude even as we’re learning balance, and allow ourselves to be works in progress wrapped in grace.

Today, I invite you to look around and notice something ordinary that’s quietly extraordinary. What is it teaching you about your own seasons of change? 

Happy Fall Y'all
~ Patrina~