“The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.” ―
. . .
. . .
There’s a unique pace in nature this time of year.
Any flowers that remain make their slow descent back into the ground. Tree limbs, now empty of their summer plumage, appear hunched over — preparing to tuck under winter’s covers. The birds sing different tunes. The deer work as groups to forage for remnants of food. The clouds hang lower. The air gnaws a little harder.
It’s the natural rhythm of autumn.
But we humans know better. We know that the tilt of earth’s axis is merely a suggestion as to how to live our lives. That being farther from the sun this time of year has no bearing on when to sleep and when to wake — or when it’s time to hurry and when it’s time to dawdle.
And so, every year March and November we take time into our own hands.
And every year, we knock our circadian rhythms — those instinctive 24-hour biological cycles inside each one of us — out of balance. And every year, we put unexpected strain on our nervous, endocrine, cardiovascular, lymphatic, respiratory, and digestive systems, taking them days, weeks, and months to readjust.
It’s the unnatural rhythm of autumn that we create to make better use of natural daylight.