They say this is the time of year when the veil between worlds grows thin.
But perhaps that veil was never about life and death — maybe it was always about awareness. About how much of what we feel, we actually allow ourselves to see.

The air turns colder, and the light softens into amber. We light candles not just to chase away the dark, but to remember that it was never our enemy. Darkness is simply where things rest before they bloom again.

Halloween has long been a night of masks and laughter, yet beneath the costumes and carved pumpkins hides something older — a quiet invitation to look inward. To ask: what have I outgrown? what ghosts still walk with me?

There is a strange tenderness in this season. Leaves fall, not out of defeat, but as a way of saying — “I’ve done my part, it’s time to let go.”
Perhaps the same applies to us. Perhaps the thinning of the veil is not just between worlds, but between who we were and who we are becoming.

As the nights grow longer and the wind begins to whisper at the edge of our attention,
listen closely.
You might just hear — not the voice of the past, but the echo of your own transformation —
soft, patient, waiting for you to notice.