So there was a very strong presence the whole time. We were very much connected to the key of F major, and [in] classical music, the color of the key of F major is that of calm. There's this, not complacent as in, I'm just allowing things to happen, but in a settled, a calm settledness of all is well. Actually, interestingly enough, "Silent Night" was originally written in the key of F, so there you go.

But F major has this very soothing current that it generates, and its corresponding minor key, which is D minor, has this almost kind of brooding sort of vibration that is also very appropriate for fall. We're kind of like, I love the fall, winter's coming. I love the fall. Unless you're in Florida, winter's great.

But there is this idea that we know, for all of the beauty that we can now experience in life through this season of life (we went through spring, we went through summer), now there's something truly magical about fall. I believe it's because we know the end is near. We know that that cycle of needing to draw within before there is new life to be rebirthed, that there is that kind of broodiness that is inherent in all of us, and D minor has this sort of melancholic kind of vibration too.

So those two keys were extremely predominant through everything that we did today, and anytime that other things kind of peeked in, they were connected to this idea of sort of this wind jiggling the leaves of the branches to say, hey, let it go, hey, let it go, hey, let it go.

…

I guess it depends on where you are and how we connect to every season. It's interesting, because our location obviously does play so significantly into our experience. And sometimes, I remember as a child growing up in Florida — still to this day fall is my favorite season — and I would look every single day starting in August: how was the light changing? How can I start to notice any subtle shifts or detect any changes? And I really had to look. I had to really search and feel into the changes.

And you absolutely can feel the subtlety of the shift in the air. You can see the light beginning to shift and change, but it's not quite as noticeable. Maybe it's not as glorious as when you could see all the autumn fall colors and leaves and the foliage just being amazing, but the subtlety of it requires a different level of subtlety.

I share that because it makes me think, for those living even closer to the equator, there's a need for a heightened sense no matter the season, and perhaps there's an opportunity for folks there to be even that much more in tune than perhaps we are as we traverse farther out. I don't know, just supposition and conjecture.