I returned to Santa Fe last week from almost three beautiful weeks of traveling, to find all the burnt tangerine and sun-colored leaves gone from the trees. It’s raining here tonight, and as I look out my window at the trees, naked and stark, I am reminded of the endings this time of year represents.

In sunny, temperate San Diego it was often hard to remember to go within, to become quiet and introspective, as underground as the seeds now have become.

Yet in the darkness of a short fall day’s ending, chilly and drizzling, it feels not only simple, but necessary to go within – to get quiet and sleepy, finding the peace of simply being, as endings find their way into the deep, damp, dark underground.