The trees don’t fight the leaves falling

Brooke Saide
5 min readJun 20, 2021

The trees don’t fight the leaves from falling between the seasons, why am I so concerned the next phase of my calling isn’t coming?

And so the seasons are changing. It became very apparent this afternoon walking along the CBD streets of Newcastle, NSW. Beneath my feet were a mix of beige colours and crunches of autumn leaves finding a place to rest. There’s a chill to the air that lets you know there’s snow falling somewhere as Winter sets in.

I looked up and a thought struck me — the trees don’t fret that they’re shedding. They aren’t fighting the leaves breaking off each branch. Moving more deeply into a time of reflection and introspection before we are greeted by the explosion of life that Spring will bring.

For the last several years, I’ve been on a journey of unfurling what it is my heart is happiest doing. That thing we call ‘purpose’. I feel it deeply within my body, sweeping through me at the same pace my blood runs through my veins. But parallel to that embodied sense of certainty, reality has been the opposite experience. As if I’m chasing the wind, or a dog its tail. I haven’t yet learnt the power of commanding flow.

I believe in this life we all have a ‘thing’. A place and space to show up that’s so uniquely ours it doesn’t compare to anyone else's. An accumulation of all our experiences, learnings and desires pulled together as our gift to the world.
Mine sits as a mix between creativity and design; mixed with social change and advocacy. Yet as a young, junior UX designer in Newcastle with a calling for Social Design, I’m finding it hard to find my space. Between the ripple effects of COVID-19, economic cuts to design education within Newcastle and other; the pickings and opportunities are slim.

I’ve started to doubt that I’ve made the right choices and I’m questioning if I’m going the right way. This has been an almost daily occurrence lately, and fear sets in when I think about how to pay bills and live life on a merely minimum wage. What amplifies this further is a feeling of disorientation. Knowing that I have excelled this far, won awards for my work and created a strong name for myself. People know that I am determined to move into a particular space and have always been greatly supportive. So many conversations have affirmed the uniqueness of my pathway and the future demand of the space I wish to specialise in. All systems go; she’s on a winner. I’ve walked this path that has always moved into greater and greater alignment, until suddenly it stopped.

And so I’m left wondering what on earth is going on. Between resume checks, cold contacts and networking it feels there’s physically nothing else I can do at this point. I know I’m not alone in this, with so many other young professionals feeling the same impact. Struggling between following a call to purpose and innovation, and just trying to get enough stable work to pay the bills. There’s a whole cohort of highly educated, bubbling pots of enthusiasm and potential ready to apply their fresh skills and ideas, but lost in the current climate of instability. Unable to find support for our progression into industry. And with that, an industry in crisis unwilling to give new blood a chance in order to survive, not realising we are so genuinely engaged to add as much value to it as we can and support this tricky season.

The more human side of me could go deeply into the areas of economics, lack of integration of the education system with industry or our built society of busyness and output that has lost its desire to mentor. But on an individual level, I instead turn to nature for a lesson in trusting the cycles. I know deep down that it will be okay. That I would not have been gifted these ideas and passions for change and innovation to such a degree if they were only meant to stay confined within me. That the time and place will come. It’s just not now.

So I look to the trees that are letting go with no resistance as their entire canopy sheds, and I let them walk me through this process. That in this beautiful natural world we live in, there is such a degree of wisdom and trust in the ebbs and flows that struggle is simply a checkpoint. When time brings us to a point that calls for turning inwards to recalibrate and rest; we shouldn't fight it. When time asks us to let go of everything we know and understand, to stop holding on to the things we feel are certain; we do so. Trusting that in this state of deep release, we are preparing for great growth. More than we could create for ourselves alone.

Because the trees know. They don’t question their potential or purpose, they just move towards it. Or should I say, they allow themselves to be guided towards it. Leaning into the cycles of death and rebirth that unfurls them into bigger, more hearty beings. It just is what it is. How I would laugh at a gum tree that pulled out its root system and ran for the hills when it didn’t like the sudden twist of winter air. Instead of standing firm — in trust and knowing — through the years to add layer upon layer to its trunk as it accumulates itself into being.

In this space of turbulence I’m letting myself fall into, jobless and worried, I think of placing my hand upon the trunk of a mighty tree and heeding to it’s knowingness. Feeling the sturdiness and patience it inhabits, having weathered great storms and seasons. It’s swaying to tides and cycles of life. As many 100’s of people pass by it, cars zooming, buildings ascending. It might not know where it’s going or how big it will become. But it knows who it is, in this very moment. So what else is there to ask of, than just that?

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Brooke Saide

UX Designer and Researcher equally passionate about Social Impact and the greatness of humanity. Sharing stories of candid moments as lessons from the universe.