Every plant and tree that cycles through the seasons knows that at some point, it is time to return inward and be held by the Earth. They don’t fight it and continue pouring their energy into their fruit until they know it’s time to turn inward or die. They surrender fully to the season and even continue expressing themselves and growing. The land has been whispering that there’s much more to surrender and it doesn’t always mean giving up. Surrendering can be joyful, even pleasurable.

Fall is a season of contractions helping us descend into Winter. Similar contractions are present during Spring. However, the essence and energy of each contraction phase differ significantly. In the Springtime, the season of the Maiden and the curious air element brings contractions to push us up and out from the underworld into the first blooms of the season. It’s an expansive and seductive time that is the portal that pushes us out through the underworld.

On the opposite side of the seasonal wheel, we have the Autumn Equinox, another season of contraction that pulls us down and into Winter, back into ourselves and the underworld. It is a season of surrender and shedding. Yet, it is also full of pleasure and fullness. It’s simply a different flavor than the Spring Equinox, and why wouldn’t it be? There’s a distinct difference between rising versus descending into the underworld. Both are sacred and needed.

Listen to this post on my podcast here.

As I’ve sat with and observed the guardian Hawthorne tree that lives outside of my home over the seasons, I’ve watched her push her blooms outward in Spring and am now slowly watching her berries redden and ripen as the weather cools. Her energy in this season is still one of expansion, but it is different. It is not the “look at me” energy of the maiden with her seductive flowers. The energy I receive from Hawthorn this season is “look at all that I can hold” and “look at how much love I can give.” Her round berries mimic the fullness of this season, the fullness of immense holding, giving, and joyful surrender.

The Hawthorn tree outside my home is not the only place I’ve seen and felt this energy. I can see it in the ripening apples, the browning grain, and the plants drooping closer to the earth below them. The easiest way to drift into the underworld is to surrender to it. In a society that, by and large, avoids the underworld and is generally death-phobic, consciously surrendering to seasons of slowness or stagnation might feel strange and difficult. It certainly has for me and continues to be a place of careful awareness. As usual, the earth, which you and I are a part of, offers constant examples of how we might do this from seasons, the moon, and our plant and animal kin.

In this share, we’ll dance with the theme of surrender and ways to find more joy in it. I’ll share reflections on the water element and a simple practice to connect with water and the theme of surrender. I’ll also discuss the importance of struggle regarding surrender and a simple plant infusion to help you ease into the season.

Some seasons can feel more present than others if you are spiraling through a similar personal season. This season, as a mid-life mother with small children and a caretaker, feels P-otent. If you find yourself in a position of frequent caregiving, whether that be for your children, elders, or community, you might, too. It is helpful to name how seasonal shifts affect us differently depending on your current phase. Of course, part of this is being able to name and be with the phase you’re in. I’d like to offer you a moment to pause to think about what season your life seems to be spiraling through in this transitional time. Are you in a phase of discovery and exploration, radiance and expansion, giving and caretaking, surrender, and reflection, or somewhere else? Understanding where you’re in your sacred cycle might help you better understand and relate to the transformations happening in the land and seasons. Of course, there are always cycles within cycles, above and below, within and without. All is connected, so I trust you’ll find some meaning and medicine in this share, even if it doesn’t align with your season.

Let’s begin our dance with surrender by exploring the element commonly associated with this season: water.

Lessons from water on surrender

Water is the element that many associate with the cardinal direction West and the season of Autumn. Early in my practice, I didn’t understand the connection between Autumn and the element of water. Autumn reminded me of leaves drying and dying. It seemed like the opposite of life-giving water. Over several years of working closely with water and themes of death, I have a more holistic understanding of water. Water is a life-giver, but water also asks us to be in flow with and surrender to change, including changes we might not always desire. Water reminds me that I do not need to love the changes themselves, but I can learn how to love myself in them. Water can be gentle, forceful, and everything in between. While walking in Autumn and water, you can surrender to her lessons by choice, or they can be forced on you.

As much as we humans like to think we have complete control over our lives, we don’t, and water can be a potent reminder of this lesson. Water can and has swallowed us up in a moment with floods and sudden downpours. It is a reminder that the feminine creative forces are not always soft and gentle. They can and need to be forceful at times. Surrendering to where and how water chooses to flow requires deep trust.

Joyful surrender offers a portal into being present and at peace with the unknown. I see the element of water as a wise teacher in this realm.

There’s an easefulness that lives in surrender. It can be found in the waning moon, flowing water, an exhale, and the transition from Summer to Fall. Life is change. But, like the moon, who changes every night, she is still the moon at her core. You, too, will embark on endless transformations throughout your life but will remain you at your core. How would you move about the world if you surrendered to the unknowns and constant changes, both within and outside of you, knowing that you will remain you in the end?

Of course, some of this is a personal belief and may not resonate because I believe in reincarnation and the soul. Like the moon, who dies each month, or the water, who cycles through different states of being, I trust that my essence will remain intact and carry on in some capacity.

So how can we be more like water and surrender to our own cycles and others? It’s much easier to find the joy in any cycle when we surrender. Be with, watch, listen, feel, and commune with water. Here’s a simple practice I like to do in collaboration with water.

Surrendering with water practice

I like to lean into this practice and the element of water when I struggle with surrendering to something and want assistance. You can practice this at home or a nearby creek or stream. I love doing this near flowing water, but if that is not accessible, visualizing or thinking about water works just as well.

Open your practice in a way that you are comfortable with. For me, this looks like greeting, thanking the four elements and directions, and connecting with the earth.
If it’s available and makes sense in your practice, orient yourself to the West, the home of the water element, and ask the water if you can bring your struggle to it for help.
How you engage with water now will be unique to you. I like to imagine the water gently flowing through my body, including my struggle. If you are near flowing water, the sound or feel of the water can be helpful if it’s accessible to listen or touch the water. If you are not near water, you can visualize the water flowing around you, imagine how it would feel, or even dictate to yourself what it would be like.
Imagine the water gently softening and soothing your struggle. You may notice the water slowly start pulling parts of it away, parts of your struggle that it’s time for you to release. You might become aware of how it feels to let go of aspects of your struggle and notice other sensations or knowings under the struggle.
Stay with the water for as long as you’d like. When you feel complete in this practice, thank the water and consider giving an offering to the water. You might also want to write down anything that surfaced during your experience with water.

All this said, joyful surrender is not always easy for me and might not be for you. I still struggle often. But I’ve learned to accept the struggle as part of the surrender process. I also think it has a lot of wisdom to offer.

The Medicine in the Struggle

The relationship between struggle and surrender is, I believe, much of the medicine this season has to offer. I find the struggle is what gets me to a state of surrender. Sometimes, I have long periods of struggle. Sometimes, they’re short. I see struggle often in deathwork for the dying and their loved ones. There’s often a denial of impending death, but there will come a moment when that denial no longer serves. The time one sits in the struggle will be different for all, but it has value.

Struggle can be found in the dance of fire and can illuminate what needs or wants to be tended. In the struggle, you can see what’s most important. The struggle is necessary. I do not share these reflections on joyful surrender to imply that it is better than being in the struggle. Being in the struggle is hard. But the struggle also has the power to illuminate. I don’t see the struggle as the problem, but it’s often our lack of resources to be with the struggle that prevents us from being with it. There’s nuance here, too. We all have different relationships and experiences with struggle. My prayer for myself, for you, and all of us is that we can have the presence to know when it’s time to stop being in the struggle and step into surrender, maybe even joyful surrender. Whether that surrender looks like asking for help, walking away from someone, acceptance, or something else will be unique.

One of my favorite writers and speakers is Dr. Bayo Akomolafe, who often speaks of “fugitive spaces.” If you haven’t listened to Dr. Akomolafe, I highly recommend it and will link some of my favorite podcasts in the show notes. He’s featured on the For the Wild podcast and SAND often. I find his words and ideas to be a healing salve in these times. He speaks to “fugitive spaces” here and says, “We need trickster approaches, we need ways of dancing away, or dancing to, fugitive spaces; dancing to sanctuaries where we can shape-shift. Grieving, mourning, even allowing ourselves to partake in pleasurable activities in the face of the storm.” I feel these fugitive spaces are areas of play that do not insist on knowing or constantly striving for all the answers and instead offer a space to marinate in the mystery. When I think of fugitive spaces concerning climate change, I think of having conversations outside of how to curb climate collapse and instead focusing on how we might learn to love each other in climate collapse. I find this requires a great deal of surrender and often think of “fugitive spaces” when I think of joyful surrender and how surrendering can yield new possibilities found only in unknown spaces.

In my day-to-day life, I don’t experience the idea of seeking fugitive spaces to disavow being in right relationship with the earth. Instead, I see it as an opportunity to shift my energy around the topic and my actions. For example, I am involved in local politics and often spend time canvassing for local candidates. I used to do this sort of work with a lot of anger. I’d be so mad that more people weren’t helping. I still do sometimes. More often now, I find myself looking for surrender in my political involvement. I still canvass, but I try to surrender to the parts of it that I love, like community building with like-minded people. I also don’t beat myself up if I can’t help as much as I’d like to. Perhaps there will be a tipping point when more and more of us will release the struggle of trying to force politicians, oil companies, and other people to care about this earth and, instead, lean into ways to love within it. That is the energy I am attempting to bring to my life, which is still a struggle sometimes. I still get angry and spin my wheels, thinking of ways to convince people to care about this earth and continue to change my own habits. But, more and more, I observe and ask questions like, “What or who am I truly struggling against right now?” “Is what or who I’m struggling with of my own making or out of my control?” “If it is out of my control, how might surrendering to it look and feel?” “Can I find any threads of ease or joy within what I’m struggling against?”

There’s medicine in our ability to surrender to the struggles of this current time. When we do, we can get a glimpse of what’s underneath them and perhaps even find new and beautiful solutions, love, and joy.

The joy available in surrender

There is beauty, magic, and deep wisdom in surrender. Surrender lives in the realm of the deeply rooted Wise Woman and the Crone, who trusts that there’s life and even beauty beyond the struggle. Surrendering isn’t giving up or accepting abuse. It’s choosing to sink deeper into the struggle to find the threads of love and creativity within it. It’s easier said than done. At least, it has been for me. I don’t have it figured out. I still get caught up in the questioning, fear, and anger. Sometimes, I overstay my welcome sitting in the struggle. Surrendering also doesn’t mean that everything I surrender to immediately feels amazing. Sometimes it doesn’t. Joyful surrender may not be the answer to the suffering of this world, but I see it as a powerful place to explore finding joy in the mess of life.

Plant allies for the season of surrender

Wherever you are in the world, plants are growing nearby to assist in this seasonal shift, whether you are experiencing Autumn or Spring in the Southern Hemisphere. The magic of our plant kin is that they are so deeply connected to the pulse of Mother Earth that they know what is needed in each season for all to thrive. Here in the Midwest of Turtle Island, Goldenrod and Aster are prevalent and serve as physical and energetic supports for our descent into fall. I invite you to notice which plants are appearing in your local environment and, if it feels aligned, to engage with them.

I love making infusions, what some might think of as tea, with the plants and flowers. An infusion is simply soaking plant material in hot water for a certain amount of time, sometimes 30-minutes, or as long as overnight. After pouring boiling water over the plants I’m working with, I like to allow my infusions to rest in the sunlight or moonlight depending on the energy the plants ask for or I am desiring. I was inspired to make a fall infusion with seasonal plants in my area from Dr. Jacqui of Xálish Medicine and recommend visiting this post she shared on Instagram all about it.

As always, before creating an infusion with any plant, ensure that they are safe to consume and that they are not contraindicated for you by confirming with your healthcare provider. If you have goldenrod and aster in your area, they are generally considered safe to consume, however, always be sure to make sure they are safe for you specifically. I also recommend harvesting by asking consent before taking and leaving offerings. I like to keep a flower essence with me while I’m out to give as an offering.

I created my infusion with a combination of foraged and garden-grown Goldenrod, Aster, Chokeberry, Hawthorn berry, Boneset, Sage, and Yarrow. It was delicious and felt like such a potent way to ease my body, physically and energetically, into the season. You could easily create an infusion of just Astser and Goldenrod for a simple fall infusion.

As the flowers wilt and brown and as leaves shift colors in preparation for winter, I can’t help but notice the joyful surrender in the landscapes around me. I see it in the ripening fullness of the berries on the Hawthorn tree, the lavender plants in my yard stretching their flowers out further and further to catch the sinking sun, and busy squirrels and chipmunks readying their winter harvests. As I reflect upon these changes, I remember that I, too, am part of these cycles. I do not need to know the course of what will be for me, my family, or the rest of us to continue to show up in fullness. Or, perhaps, if I slow myself enough, like the earth, I will feel its pulse and know that all will always be well. I can joyfully follow the rhythms of the earth’s cycles both within and outside. I can serve where I feel called, even when I don’t know how it will look, trusting that if I surrender to my season, I will be guided. I hope within these reflections, you’ve found any permission you may have needed to surrender to your current season and maybe even find the joy in it.