Last night I stepped out into the cold, dark night of October, and I was taken back in time.
It was late October in the 1960s. Maybe it was ’67 or so. My parents had driven me and a friend to a school magic show. The show was uneventful. What stuck in my mind was the harsh cold as we exited the school auditorium. It was bitter; the night was clear. The heat inside the car made the ride home tolerable. The Indian summer was gone. The days of cold, fires, soup, and long nights had arrived. Autumn had come, and in my child’s mind, it stuck.
In therapy we often return to these early sensory imprints—not to stay stuck in them, but because they still shape how we experience comfort, scarcity, and safety. Coming back into the warm house last night reminded me of where I was, and how I’ve changed.
I don’t know why this is the memory of my favorite season that stuck in my mind. It was the first of its kind. This time of year tends to lead me into reflection. I think back to my family not having much during my childhood, and knowing that my friends had more. A warm bowl of soup, a fire, and, as the days shortened, a puzzle on the card table. Somehow, these are the memories that have stayed with me throughout the years. They are comforting—just as the warm sweaters of the season, and the warm, rich colors that show themselves everywhere but my native California.
The season of reflection is a part of the work I do on a daily basis. It is the art of asking useful questions. It becomes collaborative, and for some people it taps into the somatic. Sometimes I get it right, and at other times I need to listen more deeply and ask again. It is in the listening and reflection that insight and change are brewed up in a warm mixture of understanding.
October takes me back to this quote attributed to Robert F. Kennedy: “Some men see things as they are and ask why. I dream things that never were and say why not.” When I think about reflection and the self, I realize it is about healing. But it is also about imagination!
What if, in our conversation, you find yourself in a place that takes you from the bitter cold to the warmth of the fire? What if, in the harshness of discovery, the cozy, warm fire grants you the peace of change and realization that causes you to harvest new thoughts by reframing the old and making it new?
As we take the time to reflect, we slow ourselves down, and as we do this, we become aware of the thoughts we’ve kept buried deep down that must be unwrapped, examined, and put to good use. They are the “what if” moments. What if, in being able to reframe things as they presently are, I can create a better and happier outcome for myself? What if I can accept the present as it is, and risk making a change that will bring peace to my soul? What if the bitter cold of October brings the sweetness of a new spring?
This is psychotherapy at its best. Therapy liberates us to discover that standing in difficult and chilly weather of the soul can enable us to explore in warmth and safety what we must do to change. We can clean out the stuff we don’t need in our lives.
Our Octobers are the times in our lives when we discover our own inner wisdom. It can be a time of truth telling, and a time to move to and discover the “why nots” of our lives. Sure, friends may shake their heads and think that you are off your rocker, and in your newfound wisdom you know to leave them alone. You’re headed to the land of a new possibility, and it comes about because you’ve dared to embrace the chill that took you into discovery.
As we change, we are able to look back to when we were on our own river. What we navigated then was rough terrain. Now, in our wisdom, the moments of wow become our new teaching moments. The wisdom of October carries us into a new soul journey. The work of understanding and insight is a wonderful place to go.
In our Octobers, we grasp the necessity of not only the new: we also come to make peace with accepting what we can’t change. We grieve what wasn’t or couldn’t be and embrace the wisdom of change as a powerful place to be. Our Octobers liberate us!
Change liberates the human spirit. Change comes about because we accept the newness of possibility. Sometimes change happens on the cold nights of October when we’re taken into a place of newness and realization that uncomfortable things happen. And yet, we remember when we became aware of how different the night felt.
Our Octobers in therapy are the periods when we finally feel the chill of what has been avoided and, in the warmth of careful attention, discover we can move differently. I think I’ll always love my Octobers. What about you? How might you discover a new outcome in your life that is exciting and new, safe and warm? Where could this lead you?