When autumn takes hold of nature, our world is reborn. The same route we walk to class feels utterly transformed, though nothing much has objectively changed. We walk on the same pavement, with the same infrastructure surrounding us, only now the trees that we used to pass by without a glance are demanding our attention with vibrant screams of yellow, orange and red.
After years of watching the seasons go by, you would think that I would stop anticipating fall with such excitement. Maybe the trees would feel less beautiful because they look the same as they did last year, and perhaps the chill of the wind would feel even more unwanted than spring’s rain as we hold onto the remnants of the blazing summer sun. Yet no matter how many fall hikes I take or how long I spend staring at the same leaves, I never tire of autumn. Instead, it brings me closer to acknowledging what we feel in the seasons of our own lives.
In her book “The Wisdom of Anxiety,” anxiety counselor Sheryl Paul challenges the stigma surrounding anxiety by viewing it as a wound of our time. After all, in the span of 31 years, the global incidence of anxiety disorders rose by 52 percent, which is a generational shift, not just a minor change. Paul urges the reader to approach negative feelings with an open mindset, encouraging them to use their worries and intrusive thoughts to understand what their subconscious is truly asking for.
Paul explains that throughout life, we undergo numerous transitions. We will move to a different city, leave the only job we have ever known, break up with someone we thought we would spend forever with and build new friendships. At any point in your life, you have gone through a transition to get to where you are. The anxiety that comes with these transitions is often just our mind’s way of attempting to keep us in comfortable, familiar or predictable situations.
Many of us build a life at college and forget there is a world beyond our campus, including the lives we left behind at home. We barricade ourselves in our college towns for half the year, where dialogue among peers often feels almost like high school. In other words, we are in a constant state of transitioning away from the guiding wisdom of counselors, advisors and professors. This isn’t always a peaceful place to be.
Although many of us may cling to college as a way to remain comfortably between adolescence and adulthood, the distinction between the lives we used to live, what we have built in college and our intention for the future can cause us to feel disconnected from what actually makes us who we are currently. When I interact with students on campus, I see diligence and hard work, where people take the responsibility to strive toward their future seriously. But in an environment where we are constantly surrounded by things to learn and achieve, it is easy to focus on doing as much as possible rather than listening to the deeper parts of ourselves — the parts of us that remain after all of the expectations, routines and academic pressures are stripped away.
We can become so focused on accomplishing everything that is expected of us that we forget to ask whether the paths we are following genuinely reflect who we want to become. We forget to slow down and listen to what truly aligns us with the most peaceful, content version of ourselves. But there’s truly no better time to both admire how we have changed, let go of what we no longer are and work toward all that we want to become than in the comfort of the crisp fall air. Even if the answers you find lead you to a scarier place, I think that it will be a place to grow from rather than to settle into.
We often resist growth because change itself is terrifying. It’s why we stay in relationships that hold us back and jobs that bore us. It’s why we feel inclined to choose the safer path when life leads us to a crossroads. This isn’t to say that every single anxious feeling is a sign that we need to change our lives, but that we can learn something important about ourselves when we take the time to understand where that feeling comes from.
Nature holds a lot of wisdom, and rather than turning away from it during tumultuous times, we should be embracing the passing time, the changing seasons and with it our own inner rhythms — that is, the natural rise and fall of our own emotions. Paul sees it as “an opportunity to tend to the sadness that lives in the heart.” During transitional times, when we can’t grasp onto things that once brought us comfort or our path starts to feel rocky and uncertain, the goal is to turn inward, giving ourselves grace and understanding rather than ignoring what our bodies and our subconscious minds are attempting to tell us.
Life was never guaranteed to be perfect, and it certainly wasn’t guaranteed to be void of second-guessing, worry or fear. Allow yourself to feel the grief of your many losses, the uncomfortableness in all of your transitions and most importantly, the overwhelming excitement for the possibilities that all your new beginnings hold.
As you walk across campus this autumn, ask yourself what you are ready to let go of, and let that answer fall to the ground with the leaves. Don’t fear the transitions in your life that take you to unfamiliar places, and listen to the part of yourself that knows when something doesn’t align with who you are. Even if you become enveloped in the anxiety of the unknown, you will be closer to your most authentic self. Lastly, allow yourself to feel the uncertainty that accompanies change, but hold your head high and look deeply enough to see the beauty waiting on the other side.
Myah Meunier is a sophomore majoring in English.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the Staff Editorial.