The Season of Becoming: Finding Light in the Unfolding

by Melanie Gruenwald

As I watch the leaves shift from green to gold to crimson, I am reminded that change is the only constant. Each leaf that loosens its hold and drifts to the ground feels like a small teaching — a whisper that everything is in motion, that life is always unfolding.

This autumn, that awareness feels especially vivid. I’m holding the beauty of the season alongside the ache of friends’ cancer diagnoses, the uncertainty of my own family’s journey, and the humbling reminder that everyone—at every age and stage—is navigating their own process of becoming.

When I was younger, I believed life would eventually stabilize. That once I hit certain milestones—college, marriage, children, career—the path would smooth out, and I’d finally arrive. But here, in my fifties, I’m realizing how fluid it all is. We don’t arrive; we continue to evolve. Growth doesn’t stop. The process of becoming is lifelong.

In Kabbalah, we learn that creation is not a single event but an ongoing act. The Divine breathes life into the world in every moment. Which means we, too, are being continually re-created. Each day, each experience, each challenge and joy reshapes us. Like the trees shedding their leaves, we are invited to release what no longer serves us and make room for something new.

I have the privilege of learning with students who are decades older than I am. Their curiosity, openness, and willingness to keep asking questions move me deeply. They remind me that spiritual growth is not bound by age. The spark of discovery—the light of awareness—can be kindled at any time.

The Hasidic masters teach that “a little bit of light dispels much darkness.” That light isn’t only the joy or ease in our lives; often, it’s born from the very places that feel shadowed or uncertain. Darkness itself can be a teacher. When we open our eyes to its messages, we discover that the hidden—the ayin, the nothingness—can give birth to new forms of light.

As we move into the darker months of the year, I find myself reflecting on gratitude as a form of illumination. Gratitude doesn’t erase the darkness, but it helps us perceive the light within it. The simple act of noticing—beauty in the trees, the warmth of a conversation, the courage of a friend—reminds us that life is pulsing with presence.

The Kabbalists describe this as the light within the darkness. Gratitude is one way we uncover it. By pausing to give thanks, we participate in the ongoing creation of light.

So as the leaves fall and the days grow shorter, I’m practicing gratitude for this sacred unfolding—for the chance to keep becoming, to keep learning, and to keep discovering light in unexpected places.

May we all enter this season aware of the wonder in our own transformation, and may we find gratitude in every step of our becoming.