Sitting in the mid-afternoon sun in my local park the other afternoon, I felt the comforting pull of a childhood nostalgia. It wasn’t a memory as such; it was the perfect encapsulation of a feeling that took me back to the days of my childhood, when the days of my life felt gloriously long, as if time stood still to let me absorb life for a little longer.
Amidst the peaceful surroundings of the park, the low-afternoon sunlight streamed through the trees, its beauty silhouetted by the autumn leaves illuminated by its beams. Occasionally, out of the corner of my eye, I would spot a leaf making its autumn journey towards the earth, its path pulling my gaze to the sparse, but already lovely coating of leaves on the ground. I was in my neighbourhood park in Seoul, but I was also back in my childhood, transported to a time that only remains in my memories.
Around me, the afternoon felt lazy, just as so many of those of my youth did. Living in the country, life moved slowly and nature wasn’t something I ‘visited’; it was interwoven in my life. The slow, tranquil afternoons passed by differently to how life feels in a city. I remember spending hours exploring outside, only being aware of the time when the colour of the sky gradually changed to a noticeable darkness. I didn’t need to consciously seek out nature to remind me of the beauty of the world: nature, and all of its beauty, was a part of my everyday life.
I spent hours reading, lying on the floor in the slither of sunlight that had managed to persist indoors despite its descent in the sky. The feeling of stillness from the world me, the sleepy feeling from the warm sunlight, and the mesmerising floating of dust particles swirling in the sun beam always made the world feel so peaceful. At these times, there was nothing I needed to do and nowhere I needed to be; I was simply able to exist in that moment. It was the world and I, calm and content.
This past month, I have found myself finding comfort in nature more so than usual; it is a beautiful part of the world around us, yet I often find myself taking it for granted. But now that it’s autumn—a time when the world shows its beauty through change—I want to notice the colours of leaves turning into the beloved autumn hues, eventually falling gracefully to the earth below, the chilly mornings giving way to sunny afternoons, and life feeling like its slowing down in preparation for the cold winter.
Nature’s gentle gesture to us is simple: it is not difficult for us to enjoy its beauty, even in a city. The beautiful autumn colours are a reminder to appreciate the world around us, and the slowly-shortening and cooling of the days tells us to slow down while doing so. Korea has a particularly breathtaking autumn—this is the second one I have experienced—and spending even small parts of my days surrounded by autumn’s offerings has brought me a newfound appreciation for the nature I am surrounded by.
Coming out of my sunlight-induced reverie, I felt nostalgic for those slow, sunny afternoons surrounded by nature. But despite being in a different decade and a completely different environment, I came to understand that time and geography are not barriers to experiencing past sentiments: nature and tranquility can be found in many places. Even within a big city, I could experience a version of that feeling which, though different, was nonetheless wonderful.
This autumn, the sense of needing to treasure the days that has accompanied me through this season has been something I have embraced; after all, time has seemed to pass more quickly than usual, and it won’t be long until the leaves are blown away by the beginnings of winter. In a matter of weeks, as the number of leaves on the ground becomes greater than those on the tress, I will experience the beginnings of my first Korean winter. Until then, like the feelings of my reverie, I will embrace the simple tranquility of nature throughout its season of change.
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