Golden Hours, Messy Thoughts

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My brain juices are dried up this week, so this is the best I can offer. Honestly, that’s just the truth of it. Some weeks I’ve got words tumbling over themselves to get out, and other weeks it feels like my brain packed up, left town, and didn’t even leave a forwarding address. This week?

Definitely the latter.

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But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that fall has a funny way of slowing me down whether I want it to or not. Summer is all about speed — long days, doing the most, squeezing in everything before the sun sets. Fall, though? It’s like the universe whispering: “Nope. Sit down. Breathe. Notice.” And even when I resist it, even when I’m still stuck in summer’s go-go-go energy, fall drags me into the softer pace of things.

It’s the shift you feel in the air first — crisp mornings where you can see your breath if you squint. The crunch of leaves that are somehow louder than they should be. The golden light that stretches just a little longer at sunset, wrapping everything in the kind of glow that makes you stop mid-step just to stare. It’s romantic in a way that feels accidental, and maybe that’s why it hits so hard.

I’ve been leaning into it more this year. Letting myself embrace small comforts without feeling like I have to “earn” them. Buying the pumpkin candle just because. Swapping my iced coffees for lattes with an absurd amount of syrup. Pulling out sweaters that are three sizes too big but feel like a hug. Even rereading a favorite book because comfort doesn’t always mean something new — sometimes it’s sinking into something familiar and safe, something you already know will catch you.

And maybe that’s the thing: fall is an invitation to comfort. To systems. To slowing down and making life a little easier on yourself. The older I get, the more I realize I function in steps — everything feels like a process, and the fewer unnecessary ones I have to take, the better. But fall? It’s one of those seasons where the extra steps are the point. Making tea just to hold something warm. Taking the long way home because the leaves are putting on a show. Spending a whole evening making soup when you could’ve just thrown together a sandwich.

I think that’s why even when my brain feels empty, I still want to show up here. Because writing doesn’t always have to be big, profound, or groundbreaking. Sometimes it’s just about putting a pin in the season you’re living through. Marking the shift. Saying: this is where I am right now.

So where am I right now? Somewhere between tired and grateful. Between restless and content. Between wanting to plan everything and wanting to let myself just… exist. Fall gives you permission for that contradiction. It’s both cozy and chaotic, soft and sharp, alive and dying. Maybe that’s why it feels so human.

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So here’s to fall: the season of golden hours and messy thoughts. Here’s to comfort, to slowness, to pumpkin spice creamer and cats curling tighter into their beds as the nights get colder. Here’s to the weeks where your brain feels like mashed potatoes, and you show up anyway — not perfectly, not profoundly, but honestly.

And maybe that’s enough.

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xoxo,

MJ