Journaling is an Autumn Reverie

“He loved October. Had always loved it. There was something sad and beautiful about it - the ending and beginning of things.”

― Jacqueline Woodson, If You Come Softly

October has arrived in all its beauty in the lovely town of Szigliget, Hungary. The village was snuggled by the tranquil waters of Lake Balaton, while the surrounding hills glowed with flaming red and gold hues. A cool breeze had dropped in, setting the tone for a month of introspection, expectation, and remembering. I was there for a yoga retreat during my autumn vacation. October felt like more than simply a month to me; it was a season of transformation, both within and without.

I had come to Szigliget for a yoga retreat in the hills above Lake Balaton. The retreat center was a quiet oasis surrounded by vivid vineyards and rustling autumn leaves. I set off on a quest of self-discovery and mindfulness with my leatherbound journal in hand and a yoga mat under my arm.

Each morning, I joined the group in the open-air yoga pavilion, where we stretched our bodies and connected with our inner selves. The view of the lake shimmering in the early morning light became a source of inspiration and calm. The cool air filled our lungs as we proceeded through our yoga poses, energizing our spirits.

After my morning yoga class, I would often take long walks along Lake Balaton's shores, my footfall reverberating on the pebbly beaches. I was struck by how the river reflected the changing hues of the trees and the bright blue sky above. It was a time of year when nature seemed to be exhaling slowly and deliberately.

Breathe in, breathe out.

As the sun set each evening, I returned to the retreat center and sat by a wide window facing the lake. I opened my journal and began to write about my experiences while sipping a warm cup of herbal tea. I wrote about the tranquility of the town, the participants' friendships, and the introspective moments I experienced during my yoga practice and meditations.

But October at Szigliget had a unique meaning for me. During this period, I sensed the presence of my dear grandma, who died of cancer about 30 years ago. Her memory and the love we shared had always provided me with strength and inspiration.

As the month came to a close, the village of Szigliget began to prepare for All Saints' Day, a time to remember the deceased. In homes and churches, candles were lighted, and images of loved ones were placed on altars.

I, too, created a modest memorial for my grandmother in my retreat center room. I felt her presence wrap me like a warm embrace as I lighted a candle in her memory. I told her I loved her and that I could look after myself. I additionally told her, with tears in my eyes, that I was sorry for all the difficulties she endured in her life.

The commemoration of the dead brought together the retreat participants in a shared moment of remembrance and meditation. My grandmother's memory, I understood, was not confined to the past; it lived on in the rituals, legends, and the beauty of October itself.

I'll always remember the autumn season, when my grandmother worked tirelessly to produce exquisite preserves for the coming winter. I would watch intently, savoring the delicious blend of onions and freshly grated garlic blending with the perfume of gently simmering pots of tomatoes and paprika. Evenings were spent listening to theatrical works on the ancient radio. Meanwhile, my grandma sewed tapestries for her handicraft circle with great care, with glasses on her nose and a thimble on her finger.

I wrote a sincere tribute to my grandmother in my notebook, expressing my love and gratitude for the enduring impact she made on my life. As I closed my journal, tears welled up in my eyes, but they were tears of sorrow as well as joy. I knew that October in Szigliget had allowed me to reconnect with my grandmother's memory and the wonderful moments we had shared.

As October came to an end, I felt a sense of wholeness and contentment. It had been a month of transition, introspection, and recollection, a time to prepare for the quiet of winter and to remember those who had affected my life. Szigliget had woven its charm with its beauty, traditions, and the tranquillity of Lake Balaton.

I couldn't help but anticipate the arrival of November, with the promise of Thanksgiving dinners and the approach of winter holidays on the horizon.

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Gabriela is studying to become a full-stack developer while being a mother of three small kids. This requires her to pay for some graduate programs and boot camps to gain experience. She is writing articles on Medium to inspire others and fund her journey.

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