There’s a quiet power in remembering without clinging.
The image of leaves falling, drifting, and being carried away by the wind mirrors our own lives. We all lose things — people, moments, identities, dreams — pieces of ourselves we once thought were permanent. And yet, just as trees let go of their leaves every autumn, we too must learn the grace of release.
To honor without wanting is not to erase. It’s to acknowledge the beauty of what was, to give it space, and to allow it to live in memory without gripping it so tightly that it stifles our growth. We can cherish the leaves we’ve lost, the seasons we’ve outgrown, and the selves we’ve left behind.
There’s a freedom in this. When we stop trying to reclaim what’s gone, we create space for what is yet to come. Just as bare branches prepare for new buds, we too prepare for new experiences, new relationships, new versions of ourselves.
Honoring is an act of gratitude. Wanting is an act of attachment. When we honor without wanting, we allow the past to rest peacefully and the future to unfold without fear.
The leaves you’ve lost are not mistakes. They are the proof that you have lived, grown, and evolved. You carry their essence in your rings, your roots, your quiet strength.
Let the wind take what it must.
Let memory hold what it can.
And let your heart stay open for the seasons ahead.
Kenrick Vaz 