What Fall Leaves Taught Me About Paradox (And Why It Matters for a Creative Life)
Relief! We made it!
This fall, my husband and I took a day trip to Mt. Ōyama in Kanagawa, Japan. Just us, no kids! The only thing on our agenda was to see the fall leaves, known as kōyō, and the hope of some delicious Japanese food (the specific type of food might surprise you).
I didn’t realize how much I needed this break until we were already halfway up the mountain…on a cable car that looked way steeper than my nervous system wanted to believe. I found myself remembering to take deep breaths as I kept repeating: we will not spontaneously plummet.
This is very steep by the way. You can’t tell since the cable car is also at an angle.
Just when my brain was certain I was about to die, we arrived.
Instant heaven. A canopy of red momiji glowing above us, a blue sky backdrop, the light hitting the leaves like tiny stars outlining every edge. I stood there, taking in the color. And color, by the way, is a full-body experience. It’s intoxicating and convinces me that the world is magical.
The temple rooftops reflected gold light. People moved quietly, taking too many photos in the crisp, clean air. We climbed what felt like a stairway to heaven (Zeppelin reference intended), surrounded by ancient trees and the freshest air I’ve breathed in months.
On the way down I felt peaceful and grateful for this time. The mountain had taken away the frenzy feeling and I was now in a calmer state. We finished with a seven-course tofu meal that deserves its own blog post. (If you're thinking tofu = boring, I promise you’ve never had tofu like this.)
The Paradox the Leaves Revealed
What really resonated with me was a thought about paradox. Right now, I’m listening to Brené Brown’s book, Strong Ground. I just started it but I’m already wanting to explore various rabbit holes of philosophy and teachings. In it, she references John Keats and his writing on what he calls Negative Capability.
This is the ability to hold contradictions, uncertainty, and ambiguity without rushing to force a resolution. Brené Brown talks about how we often want things to be either/or because it makes life feel easier, cleaner. But humans aren’t like that. Nature isn’t like that. Creativity isn’t like that.
We're full of contradictions. We are walking paradoxes.
And on Mt. Ōyama, I realized the fall leaves were teaching this right in front of me.
The color changes, but that color wasn’t created suddenly. The red, orange, and yellow were already there, hidden beneath the green. Science tells us: chlorophyll covers the warm pigments until the change of sunlight and temperature, then suddenly, what was always there becomes visible.
That felt profound to me and simple. Because isn’t this true about us too?
What You See Is Not All There Is
There’s a well-known phrase: What you see is all there is. This phrase, Daniel Kahneman, explains is a cognitive bias that happens when people make judgments about what is immediately in front of them without thinking about what could be missing.
The leaves say otherwise. What we see is often just the surface layer. What we perceive is often one moment in a cycle. What appears dominant (the green) doesn’t erase the truth hiding underneath (the red).
And paradox lives in that space.
I kept thinking:
You can be afraid on a cable car and deeply grateful for the view.
You can feel overwhelmed by life and be living the best chapter of it.
You can love your children fiercely and desperately need a day without them.
You can be growing and uncertain at the same time.
You can feel tender, tough, joyful, exhausted: all in one breath.
The leaves don’t apologize for their contradictions. They reveal what was there all along when the season changes.
What Nature Teaches Us About Our Hidden Colors
Maybe paradox isn’t something to be ashamed of. Maybe it’s something to observe/accept.
Just like the color inside the leaves, there are parts of us: creativity, courage, vulnerability, desire, imagination; that exist long before we see them.
Sometimes it just takes a shift in season…
A change in environment…a moment of quiet…a breath on a terrifying cable car…for what was hidden to finally come to the surface.
What “color” in you has been there all along but hasn’t been visible yet?
What wants to be revealed in this season of your life?
