‘November again. It’s more like winter than autumn. That’s not mist. It’s fog.

The sycamore seeds hit the glass in the wind like – no, not like anything else, like sycamore seeds hitting window glass.

There’s been a couple of windy nights. The leaves are stuck to the ground with the wet. The ones on the paving are yellow and rotting, wanwood, leafmeal. One is so stuck that when it eventually peels away, its leafshape left behind, shadow of a leaf, will last on the pavement till next spring. 

The furniture in the garden is rusting. They’ve forgotten to put it away for the winter.

The trees are revealing their structures. There’s the catch of fire in the air. All the souls are out marauding. But there are roses, there are still roses. In the damp and the cold, on bush that looks done, there’s a wide-open rose, still.

Look at the colour of it.’

‘Autumn’ by Ali Smith

Autumn. It’s a bittersweet time. The light fades, the leaves fall, and yet we’re dazzled by golden colours and excited by seasonal festivities. The hedges outside the window are almost bare, but there are fresh green shoots of bulbs eagerly waiting for Spring. And yes, there’s a wide-open rose, still.

Just like nature, our brains have to let go in order to let in. Neuroplasticity isn’t only about developing and strengthening new neural pathways, but also clearing old ones. This is important if we’re to move forward in our lives, rather than being stuck in a never ending cycle of the same.Read More