“The quieter you become, the more you can hear.”
Ram Dass
The hush of November is often overlooked. When advertisements force us to think about the next consumer holiday, I often find there is a missed opportunity to mimic nature and to slow down.
There is an undeniable lull that occurs between the thrill of Halloween and the twinkle of Christmas here in Canada. November skies darken at 4pm and the month feels long with no major event to anticipate until Christmas.
But twinkle can be found in the dimmed quietude of November, too.





Maybe the sky darkening sooner and the earth getting ready to rest is an invitation for us to do the same.
Whoever decided what the next thing should be anyways?
I’ve learned over the last few years, especially after my close friend passed away, that immersing ourselves in the present moment, rather than be distracted by the rush of the world, is a blessing most of us overlook.
To breathe crisp air.
To smell the aroma of a distant fireplace.
To touch dewy moss.
To laugh uncontrollably with friends around a dinner table.
To taste happiness in a warm beverage.
To remember a friend and allow the feeling of grief to visit.
To share comfortable silence with the person you love.
To turn off your phone.




Below are the moments of stillness I have fallen in love with this season, and I invite you to try these out, or seek out your own version.
This isn’t just an invitation to romanticize your routine. This is about living mindfully.
I vow to adopt the art of noticing during all seasons, as they each have their own unique invitation to stop and smell……the roses…the fallen leaves…the snowfall.
How lucky we are to witness it all.
Journaling in High Park






Pen in hand, I watched the familiar paths shift into a moody November. Sitting at the same picnic table where I spent my Spring Sabbatical, I noticed how the pink petals that once blossomed above my head have now fallen as golden confetti at my feet. I paused, thinking of everything that has unfolded since – losing Nav, turning 40, traveling to France. Deep gratitude, and a pang of grief, wrapped my heart tightly.
Noticing the autumn sky






Rainbows after a storm, neon sunsets and coral sunrises are invitations for us to become spectators, even for a brief moment. They are a reminder to insert pause – to be in awe at the performance of colours above us. Sure enough, this fleeting beauty will fade away and we’ll continue on with our daily tasks. But what a way to make room for daily magic.
Wandering in a rainy forest






Forests feel like visiting ancestors. When I look at century-old roots enveloped on a rock, I feel like I am surrounded by wisdom, protection and ancient messages of perseverance. In a quiet gloom, an entire escarpment greeted only us as the last remaining visitors. The misty sky blurred the treetops, and honey-coloured leaves landed at their final resting place until the next snowfall hushes the forest and all its inhabitants.
Time traveling in antique shops




Nothing halts time and invites stillness like strolling in an antique shop. Stories of decades past echoed on vases, plates, saucers and toys. Handpicked treasures come to a second, third or tenth home. The story continues.
Strolling in a quietly colourful garden




A Tuesday stroll through the Royal Botanical Gardens with my parents revealed the quiet beauty of the in-between season. Pumpkins fading, leaves crisping along the arboretum path, and roses holding their final blush. Christmas preparations were already underway by the staff, but we lingered to witness autumn’s gentle farewell.
Carving time for spa-like moments




At home, a late afternoon shower quiets my mind – candles are lit and my favourite skincare products are applied slowly as golden hour highlights the dew on my skin in the mirror. There is no rush today. At the spa, a wool blanket, mint tea and the clouds from the steam baths evaporate in the evening sky, reassuring me that there is nowhere else to be but right here.



I hope these moments of stillness inspire you to find your own, and to fall in love with being where your feet are – not rushing to the next milestone or season, but settling into the beauty that’s right here, in the small quiets of everyday life.
Reflections for my readers
What anchors you in the present moment?
What quiets the noise in your mind?
When was the last time you walked in a forest?
When do you feel the most like yourself?
Wishing you a season of calm, beauty and a return to yourself ✨

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