Leaf Peepers

There’s something special about living in a place where people come to witness the leaves in their final dance—and call it beautiful. Yet many who live here just complain or sit out the dance.

I think this means the beauty of change can be hard to see, even when it‘s right in front of us. It's a recognition that transformation is a part of our existence, an ending for some, but for others, a new beginning.

Perhaps holding both—loss and renewal together—is what’s most important about change. It helps us notice the bridges we cross on this joyous yet perilous journey we call life—with all our imperfections and human frailties.

It’s the unpredictability—the knowing that the seasons will change, like growing older, never certain when a storm or drought will roll in. The universe seems to have a mind of its own, a way of keeping score, even as we imagine and peep at what waits around the next corner—trying to make room for what’s coming next.

This past summer, some areas of the Green Mountains longed for rain—the home of Vermont Green FC, born of soccer, but much more. The drought touched the spirit of their growing fan base—with each win reminding us who we are and who we were always meant to be.

Although the movement is growing, we need the light of this Club—even more these days, as the leaves fall faster than usual—some in ways we never expected, nor ever dreamed to be true.

And like the unpredictability of the seasons that come and go, our bodies keep the score and never forget—no matter how hard we try to hide or run from the pain.

We all grow older and eventually join the dance of the fallen leaves, but we never know when or how fast we’ll go—even as the colors around us quickly fade.

We fix one thing to make life easier, and two more appear. It reminds us how delicate the balance is—like the hanging mobile in my office that I carefully track and help my patients keep in balance.

No matter how gentle or deliberate we are, something always seems to fall away—maybe a beloved pet dying, a child leaving home to begin their own life, or a loved one facing health struggles or an early passing.

Sometimes it becomes our own last dance—part of the greater loss rippling through our communities and our world.

And still, out of the pain, a new balance can emerge—sometimes landing in a place more solid than before—as those who know their own light help us lift the weight we were never meant to carry alone—and let in the light.

In the end, I respect these unseen forces—trusting that being here will help me face the next storm, walk through it, and not run or hide. I’ve done that before, and eight marathons later, I have both the scars and the t-shirts to prove it.

Now I’m curious about the leaves and the peepers—especially the little ones inside, our wounded parts, who are beginning to see the bridge and to glimpse where they need to be.

I’m grateful for the kindness of others who have helped me weather the storms—and find my way out of old ones I didn’t even know I was stuck in. They are my guides, reminding me that we are all different, each of us shining a light of our own.

You may not always know you are one of them, but others see that light in you; they know your value more clearly than you sometimes see yourself.

I’ve deeply appreciated those who let me know they missed seeing me on the road. I will miss my fellow travelers who have gone their own way, but reading this with you tells me our journey is not finished.

Even if you don’t recognize yourself yet, let this connection of hearts remind you. Yes, your own heart will tell you what you already know to be true.

Better yet, honor yourself and others by doing the deeper work—not by living to fix them, but by fixing yourself to live, instead.

And yes, don’t forget to look through the leaves toward the season ahead. The cold weather outside can draw us back into the aloneness and darkness of the past, yet it also invites us to notice the beauty of the snow, the quiet stillness within and around us—awaiting our presence.

Not doing this work is much harder—especially once you begin to look at the light inside yourself and others: the Core Self. Then you will know that each season brings a deeper truth about who you are—and a happiness you may never have known before, but always deserved.

I will hold the light until you see your own. It will carry you across many bridges and guide you home—bringing the leaves to life in all their diverse shapes, textures, and colors—dancing in the wind.

In the stunning video below, Eva Cassidy sings Autumn Leaves with the London Symphony. It’s simply transformational and life-changing. Beyond the lovely images, she celebrates life and truth—a bridge to who we were, who we are now, and who we are called to be.

Though Eva is in a higher place, her voice still reaches the Core Self, where our heart knows what leaf peepers are truly about. Even if we live in places where there seem to be few trees, neither natural nor man-made disasters can destroy the roots. They will grow back even stronger.

There’s always more than meets the eye—our wholeness, waiting to be discovered and reclaimed—where new growth can begin again.

When you feel the presence of a little one inside—or between us, peeping through a leaf—just smile and breathe. You are already home, a blessing—no longer in disguise.

Many blessings—together as one, always close to heart.

In case you’re curious, you can connect with this spirit at Vermont Green FC—a shining light close to home.

Confidentiality note: All patient stories are composites and fictionalized to protect privacy and honor confidentiality. Similarities to your own situation are coincidental yet intentional, reflecting the universality of our human experience.

Comments or questions? Email me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close or long to be held.

Dr. Cecil is a licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. He specializes in treating complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma, bringing therapy to life through heartfelt stories and images of connection and healing that emerge from the light of invisibility.