The Importance of Being Here
Halloween was just a few days ago.
And somehow, without anyone asking permission, it is already Christmas.
I notice this every year. The moment we cross from October into November, something shifts. The decorations change. The music starts. The lists begin. And we leave fall behind before we have ever really been in it.
I want to talk about that.
WE THINK MOVING FASTER WILL MAKE IT HURT LESS
There is a psychology to our rushing.
We race toward the holidays because anticipation can feel like control. If we plan enough, prepare enough, and get ahead enough, maybe we can manage whatever is coming. Maybe we can outrun the discomfort of not knowing how it will go.
But here is what I keep coming back to in my work and in my own life:
Moving faster does not make life less painful.
Sometimes it just makes us less present for the parts that are actually good.
The ego tells us that if we grip tighter, plan harder, and stay one step ahead, we will be safe. That control is protection. That resistance is strength.
But what happens when we spend so much energy preparing for what’s next that we miss what’s here?
We miss our own lives.
FALL IS A LIMINAL SPACE
There is something about this season that can feel uncomfortable.
Fall sits between life and death. The leaves are letting go. The light is changing. The days are getting shorter. Something is ending, and we can feel it even when we don’t have words for it.
We are in an in-between space, no longer in the fullness of summer but not yet in the deep quiet of winter. And ahead of us are the holidays, with all the expectations, memories, family dynamics, and emotions they can bring.
It’s tempting to rush through this transition. To start planning, preparing, and mentally living in the weeks ahead before we’ve even experienced the day we’re in.
But liminal spaces ask something of us that our culture rarely encourages.
They ask us to stay.
Not to fix the discomfort. Not to rush toward what comes next. Just to be with what is here, even when it feels uncertain, tender, or strange.
We don’t have to turn every uncomfortable feeling into a problem to solve.
Sometimes we can simply let ourselves be where we are.
WHAT IF WE LET FALL BE FALL?
The leaves right now are extraordinary.
The smell of the air has changed. There is something in the quality of the late-afternoon light that only exists for a few weeks a year. The trees are putting on a show, and we are surrounded by the kind of beauty that asks nothing of us except that we notice it.
Thanksgiving is still ahead, too. A holiday built around gathering, breaking bread, and sharing time with the people in our lives.
These are not small things.
But we can miss them when we are already somewhere else in our minds. Already managing Christmas. Already dreading January. Already calculating everything we need to get done before the year ends.
What if we just let fall be fall?
What if we allowed ourselves to enjoy this season without rushing through it to get to the next one?
Not as a practice. Not as another thing to optimize or get right. Just as a way of being here for the life that’s actually happening.
The leaves will fall. The light will change. Winter will arrive.
We don’t have to hurry it along.
BEING PRESENT DOESN’T MEAN BEING COMFORTABLE
I want to be honest about something.
Staying present is not always pleasant.
Sometimes the present moment hurts. Sometimes it holds grief, loneliness, disappointment, or the low-grade anxiety of knowing the holidays are coming and your family is complicated or your year didn’t go the way you planned.
And the instinct to rush past that discomfort makes sense.
We stay busy. We make lists. We fill our calendars. We focus on what needs to happen next because sitting with what we feel right now can be hard.
But presence isn’t about pretending everything is fine.
It’s about not abandoning yourself in the middle of what isn’t.
Can you let yourself feel what you feel without immediately trying to change it? Can you notice the sadness without needing to push it away? Can you acknowledge that this time of year is complicated and still allow yourself to experience the moments that bring you joy?
We don’t have to love every moment to be present for it.
We just have to stop insisting that it be different before we’re willing to live inside it.
WINTER WILL COME
It will be long.
It will be dark and cold and quiet in a way that asks different things of us than fall does.
But it is not here yet.
What is here is the crunch of leaves underfoot. The smell of woodsmoke. The particular golden light of a November afternoon. The chance to share a meal, take a walk, or sit with someone we love without needing the moment to become anything more than what it is.
So let’s try something.
Let’s stay.
Not perfectly. Not without distraction. Just a little more here than we were yesterday.
When you notice yourself racing ahead, come back to the season that’s actually in front of you. Feel your feet on the ground. Take a breath. Look at the trees. Notice the person sitting across from you.
You don’t need to make the most of every moment. You don’t need to turn presence into another item on your to-do list.
You just need to give yourself the chance to experience the life you’re already living.
Winter will come on its own.
For now, let fall be fall.
And let yourself be here.
Rachel Gordon, MA, MEd, is a psychotherapist and founder of Humble Warrior Therapy, where she supports individuals in the Denver area with heart-centered, trauma-informed care.