We are in a waning moment, friends.
We stand together at the edge of the waning summer of a waning year. Where the light hints at softening earlier each evening, and fall whispers through the trees that she’s on her way.
We stand at the precipice of nature’s doorway just before the season begins the gentle turn toward darkness. There is a natural invitation before it fully hits: to slow down, to exhale, to glimpse the long turn inward ahead.
Can you feel it coming? The divinely timed moment to rest?
And yet… the world rarely gives permission to wane. School starts, deadlines must be met, and we are urged to keep producing, keep shining, keep “showing up” as though we, somehow in defiance of nature herself, are eternal midsummer.
But friends, we are not.
We are cyclical. Resisting that inevitable tide will not stop it. We are designed to ebb and flow. We are designed to take a breath and see our own picture.
To rest is to reset.
The act of rest is a sacred resistance in a culture that glorifies the self as tribute. Society insists that the essence of what we are can only be defined by what we bring in – even in defiance of nature’s most basic laws. But make no mistake, nature herself insists that rest is part of the rhythm of our being.
The tree does not apologize for shedding leaves.
The moon does not apologize for waning toward new.
Neither should we. Nor should we seek shelter from our own quiet dark. From it, we will rise anew.
If we’re feeling heavy, tired, or stretched thin right now, we’re not alone. We are simply attuned. The season itself is signaling: Soon it will be time to let go. Soon it will be time to soften. Soon it will be time to rest.
So, a gentle realignment for us, friends. A small action to remind ourselves that we need not be in defiance of nature, but rather work in accordance with her directives.
A Practice for This Week
- Take three slow breaths.
- Write yourself a permission slip: “I am allowed to rest from…” and complete the sentence in your own words.
- Place it somewhere visible—a reminder that our worth is not tied to our constant output.
The waning season is almost upon us. Are we ready to lean in?
Let us begin the conscious creation of our chrysalis. Let us find the perfect moment to climb inside.
The butterfly teaches us: in the dark we grow wings.
And who are we to argue with that gorgeous little beastie?
