There are moments in life when Source whispers to us in little ways that are easy to ignore if you're not paying attention.
Recently, Source spoke to me through a little dead leaf during a plant medicine journey—a journey that was made possible by the wisdom and care of Ashley Schubert, an incredible facilitator. Her guidance and the sacred space she held allowed me to release, transform, and experience again the surrender of my own God Spark.
The experience confirmed my deconditioning journey and solidified all this knowledge with pure awareness. I encountered a little dead leaf. It was no longer green, but it was full of life and shared a story that resonated deeply with me.
The leaf spoke of its life, purpose, and eventual release from the tree. It shared how falling was the greatest experience of its life and how wonderful it's been to give life by just existing.
Sometimes I think about the person I was when I first entered in Human Design and laugh how I scoffed when I heard the deconditioning journey takes 7 years just for the first round. I didn't think I had to decondition much, considering all the knowledge I'd learned about astrology, religions, and my unique spiritual experiences, dreams, etc. The past year of the universe shaking me into awareness has allowed me to see how conditioned I was, how far I've gone, and how far I still have to go.
But the little leaf was a reassurance that my path is sacred and held, and I can trust the process. So, this poem emerged as a way to capture the essence of that experience. Here it is:
The Dance of the Dying Leaf
Once, there was a little green leaf, a small part of a greater whole. It grew attached to the tree surrounded by brothers and sisters. Together, they swayed in the wind, their collective breath giving life to the world. The leaf was told this was its purpose—its existence tied to the tree, to the air, to the cycle of creation.
But as time passed, the leaf began to feel an irritation. It loved the tree, loved life that it helped sustain, yet it was unable to explore or be anything other than what it had always been. It felt indistinguishable from the others. The desire to separate grew.
One day, without warning, the leaf detached. Not through trying or learning or willpower or focus or any type of energy coming from itself. Some greater force loosened it from the tree. And then, it fell.
The descent was magical. It twirled and swirled, caught in currents of air, free in a way it had never imagined. It felt afraid yet safe, seeing yet unseeing, surrendering into the acceptance of what was happening. Its untethering created a strange mix of liberation and uncertainty as it learned to enjoy the fall.
When it landed on the ground, it felt the stillness of the earth for the first time. A new comfortable feeling of being held came. It was no longer creating, no longer giving breath to the world, and it began to feel purposeless. Then the wind came and lifted it to a new place, and the leaf realized it did not need to move on its own—the bigger forces would guide its journey.
As time passed, the leaf began to change. It watched itself deteriorate, its edges curling. It’s vibrant green faded to gold, then brown with lots of specks of colorful blues and purples and reds, its true colors began emerging. Then it began unraveling, little pieces getting broken.
At first, it was afraid, but as it fell apart, it noticed its energy was returning to the earth, feeding the soil, nurturing new life by just existing. Small creatures invited it into their stories as shelter and food.
Form and purpose, once uniform among the others, now revealed its uniqueness. It was no longer just a leaf; it was becoming something else, a new kind of life. It was not the life it had known before, but it was life nonetheless. It was giving, even as it faded. It was part of a greater cycle, a dance with death that was also a dance with life.
To live was to let go. To die was to become. And as it returned to the earth, its last thought was:
“I am free.”
The Lessons of the Leaf
The little leaf reminded me that life is not a linear path but a spiral, a dance between creation and dissolution. It showed me that letting go is not about losing ourselves but about returning to our essence. When we release what no longer serves us, we make space for new forms of being and giving.
The leaf’s journey from the tree to the earth is a metaphor for the cycles we all go through. We grow, we change, and eventually, we let go. But even in our letting go, we continue to contribute to the greater whole. Our energy, our essence, becomes part of something new. We are never truly gone—we are simply transformed.
Your Deconditioning Journey
If this poem and the story behind it resonate with you, it might be a sign that you, too, are being called to explore your process with the lens of Human Design. If so, I invite you to book a Human Design reading.
