Specifically, the trees in northern Illinois and what they're doing right now.
They're beginning to change.
No no, don’t worry, not in the autumn kind of way.
There isn't a single yellow leaf yet.
But if you look closely, the cottonwoods and maples have already started dropping a few leaves. Oaks are slowing their growth. Trees are very discreetly redirecting energy inward. Even while they're still lush and green, they're preparing for a season no one else can see yet.
From the outside, they look like they're in full bloom.
But inside, they already know.
༄ ── ☾ ── ༄
While hiking last week, I noticed leaves on the ground.
Not many, just enough to make me stop.
It felt too early.
Summer isn't over.
My garden is overflowing. Cicadas are singing. Butterflies are everywhere.
But the trees know something the calendar doesn't.
They’re beginning to prepare for what comes next.
Their growth slows and energy shifts.
Nature never waits until it's exhausted before it prepares for what's next.
But we humans sure do.
That's the lesson.
We wait until burnout.
Illness.
Resentment.
Until we have nothing left.
And nature doesn't. Period.
It begins preparing while there's still plenty.
༄ ── ☾ ── ༄
I've been thinking about that a lot because I rarely meet someone when they're just a little tired.
Most people arrive in my office completely spent.
They've been carrying too much for too long.
They're emotionally stretched thin, physically depleted, disconnected from themselves, and wondering how they ended up here.
Of course, that's where we begin.
We work with what is.
We create space for healing.
We help the nervous system settle.
But after that...
The real work becomes learning to notice sooner.
Because that burnout doesn’t happen overnight.
Neither does resentment or disconnection.
Our bodies are almost always speaking long before they start shouting.
Maybe it's that afternoon when you suddenly have no patience.
Or waking up already tired.
When you catch yourself snapping at the people you love.
Or how about my friends whose shoulders seem permanently attached to your ears!
Those aren't inconveniences to push through.
They're invitations to pay attention.
༄ ── ☾ ── ༄
The trees don't wait until every leaf has fallen before they begin preparing for a new season.
They respond to the first subtle shifts.
What if we did the same?
So today, I'd love to leave you with a question.
What are your early signs?
What's the first whisper that tells you you're taking on too much?
And when you notice it...
What will you choose to do differently?
——
Paying attention is about learning to trust yourself before your body has to shout.
Those magnificent trees have been showing us how all along.