Mental Health: The Shifting of the Seasons

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Autumn is a season of paradoxes. For some, it arrives like a balm, its amber glow and brisk winds invigorating the senses. For others, it can feel like an emotional weight—a seasonal gravity that’s hard to shake. As the days shorten and the light thins, our moods often mirror the landscape, fluctuating between moments of calm beauty and quiet melancholy. Yet within this duality lies a creative force. For those attuned to the arts, autumn is less a season and more an invitation—a time to slow down, recalibrate, and let the shifting rhythms of nature guide new work and deeper reflection.

As someone who has spent years immersed in music, art, and literature—both studying and creating—I see autumn as a reminder that creativity thrives on transition. Many of us in the creative community feel the weight of the darker months, and yet these moments of introspection often hold the key to our most profound breakthroughs. When the external world withdraws, the internal expands.

The Challenge of Transition

Seasonal shifts can feel like an emotional dissonance, particularly for those of us who are highly sensitive or deeply attuned to our environments. The fading light has a way of dimming our drive, while the cooling air invites us to retreat inward. This is no bad thing. Retreat is not failure; it’s a necessary pause. The slowing down of the world around us mirrors the natural cycle of creativity—moments of outward expression followed by periods of quiet gestation.

For those who feel the onset of seasonal affective disorder (SAD) or a general dip in mood, autumn asks us to be intentional in how we engage with our surroundings. Light therapy, nature walks, or simply leaning into sensory joys—textures, sounds, scents—can provide small but vital lifts. But perhaps the most radical act of care is to embrace the season for what it is: a time to feel, to absorb, and to create from the rawness of it all.

Creative Sanctuaries

Autumn is an ideal time to build sanctuaries—both literal and metaphorical. These are spaces where creativity can flourish, even in its quietest forms. In my own circle of friends—filmmakers, musicians, painters, and poets—there’s a collective understanding of the power of environment. A corner filled with warm light and stacked books can hold as much creative potential as a full studio. Surround yourself with objects that inspire—records, art, the kind of tactile materials that ground you in the moment.

Music, in particular, becomes an anchor during this time. I’ve found that autumn demands its own soundtrack, one that balances introspection with movement. Nick Drake’s Pink Moon remains timeless in its ability to evoke both the beauty and solitude of the season. For something more contemporary, Burial’s Untrue offers a haunting, urban take on autumn’s mood, its skeletal beats and ghostly echoes capturing the feeling of a city in flux. Or consider Agnes Obel’s Philharmonics, where minimalist piano compositions provide a meditative space to reflect on the changing world outside.

Finding Solace in the Arts

For centuries, the arts have been a refuge during autumn’s darker stretches. In visual art, the British painter Leonora Carrington stands out for her surreal, almost mystical renderings of transitional states. Her work feels like it was painted with autumn in mind—a season that is itself surreal, poised between life and dormancy.

In literature, I find myself returning to Virginia Woolf’s Orlando. Woolf’s lyrical novel spans centuries and seasons, capturing the passage of time with poetic grace. The imagery and fluidity in Orlando evoke the shifting tones of autumn, making it a thought-provoking and inspiring read. The rich interplay of ideas, emotions, and sensory details makes Orlando not just a novel but a wellspring of inspiration for anyone who creates. Or Ali Smith’s Autumn, a celebration of the season as a metaphor for time, memory, and transformation, written with the kind of warmth and intelligence that feels like a fireside chat with a brilliant friend.

Autumnal cinema, too, holds treasures for the creatively inclined. Andrei Tarkovsky’s Mirror is a dreamlike meditation on memory and loss, filled with golden light and the soft crunch of fallen leaves. Closer to home, Joanna Hogg’s The Souvenir explores themes of art, identity, and grief, wrapped in an aesthetic that feels distinctly British and deeply tied to the season.

Seasonal Gatherings and Rituals

One of autumn’s greatest gifts is its ability to bring people together. Fireside gatherings, whether in gardens or local pubs, take on a near-mythic quality during these months. These are the moments where creative minds come alive—not in the bold chaos of summer festivals but in quieter, more intentional conversations. There’s something sacred about sharing a drink, a story, or a song under a canopy of stars or fairy lights, wrapped in scarves against the chill.

These gatherings, though simple, can be transformative. They remind us that creativity is not just a solitary pursuit but a communal one. Sharing unfinished ideas, playing acoustic versions of half-written songs, or reading snippets from dog-eared notebooks—these are the rituals that make the darker months not just bearable but enriching.

Leaning Into Autumn’s Beauty

While the introspection of autumn can be intense, it’s also a season of immense beauty. The deep ochres and rusts of the natural world are a palette unto themselves, inspiring photographers, painters, and fashion designers alike. A walk through a forest or even a city park becomes a creative act in itself, each step attuning you to the textures and tones of the world around you.

Cooking, too, takes on a creative dimension in these months. Seasonal ingredients—squash, mushrooms, apples—offer not just nourishment but a tactile, sensory joy. A simple act like making a stew becomes a meditation, a way to ground yourself in the present moment.

A Time for Renewal

As we move deeper into the season, let’s not shy away from its complexities. Autumn, with all its challenges and gifts, is a reminder that creativity and emotion are inherently linked. By embracing both the light and the shadow, we allow ourselves to create from a place of authenticity.

This season, let’s find strength in its quiet rhythms, joy in its shared moments, and inspiration in its fleeting beauty. The darker days are not an end but an invitation—a chance to delve deeper into our art, our connections, and ourselves.

Jess is currently working on her website & online store when her cats allow her too.