Many of us live in a kind of endless summer — a state of constant movement and activity, where we keep creating, producing, and delivering long after our bodies and minds are asking for rest. But no one can live in eternal summer. Not people, not nature. Just as trees draw their sap back into the trunk, we too must sometimes let our energy move inward — to gather strength, to notice what has grown within us, and to make space for what will come next.
The forest taught me to stand still
The Autumn Meditation grew out of an experience I had in Togakushi in northern Japan — a place where nature, spirituality, and tradition intertwine. Walking among the towering cedar trees lining the sacred path toward the mountain shrines, I felt a deep sense of connection with everything around me. The trees stood like ancient witnesses — patient, silent, and grounded — teaching me something about rhythm, repetition, and the quiet strength of standing still.
In Japanese Shinto tradition, all living things are considered spirited; every tree, stone, and river holds its own kami — a life force, a presence. Around many trees are tied ropes braided from rice plants, as offerings of gratitude and respect. They are not decoration, but a gesture of recognition — a way of acknowledging the living energy that surrounds us. There is a sense of reciprocity here, a relationship between people and the more-than-human world, where nature is something we are in relation with, not something we control.
Autumn reminds us of care
Autumn shows us that change is not an ending, but a form of care. When the leaves fall, they form a soft blanket that protects the earth and keeps it fertile. It is nature’s way of tending to itself — a slow movement between action and rest, between outward and inward.
In our own lives, we move through the same seasons: periods of growth, harvest, rest, and renewal. To recognize this is to understand that we cannot live in constant acceleration. We need to allow for reflection and ripening — for the kind of depth that lets us feel our own rhythm.
If we want to change the world, we must begin with ourselves
The way we balance rhythm, rest, and movement in our personal lives mirrors the systems and organizations we are part of. If we truly want to create sustainable and compassionate communities, we must begin with ourselves. We must restore our connection to our own nature — and to the nature around us. Only when we find balance within can we create balance around us.
When Eastern wisdom meets DesignWISE
Reclaiming our personal and collective connection to nature is at the heart of the new planetary approach to design we explore through DesignWISE. The resonance between Shinto and DesignWISE gives this perspective a new depth. While DesignWISE draws from the wisdom of North America’s Indigenous traditions, I see great potential in also turning our gaze eastward. Across cultures, there runs a shared understanding: all living things are connected, and we must rediscover the rhythm that ties us to the world. This insight should remind us how disconnected our modern lives have become — from both the outer and inner dimensions of nature.
An invitation to autumn’s calm
The Autumn Meditation was created as a small breathing space — an opportunity to step out of endless summer and into the quiet wisdom of autumn. It lasts about thirteen minutes and can be used any time of year: after a busy day, at the end of a project, or whenever you feel the need to breathe a little deeper.
The meditation guides you through the imagery of the forest, inviting you to find your own rhythm — to feel your roots, gather your energy, and let what you’ve created settle into place. It’s a reminder that, like the trees, you are part of nature’s cycle. That even in the midst of activity, you need time to harvest, to let go, and to find nourishment in stillness.
