September has always felt like a breath of fresh air to me.
In the garden, and along the edges of the wild spaces, elderberries darken on their stems, aronia berries ripen, goldenrod brightens the landscape, and echinacea puts out the last of her blooms. These are plants which are traditionally gathered and dried to make teas, tinctures, and syrups to support us as we prepare for the colder, darker months of the year.
We also traditionally use the time before the weather turns, to take stock of our resources, notice what we have an abundance of, and what might need replenishing. We preserve what we can and soak up the final glow of the summer sun.
There is a practical wisdom in this rhythm.
September occupies a liminal space in the year, holding the waning days of summer and carrying us across the Autumn equinox. It's a time when the light and the dark come closer together, to reach equality before the nights begin to lengthen.
It is a blip of a threshold, devoted to ripening, gathering and figuring out what to carry into the next season.
It's also so very fitting for Virgo season. I think of Virgo season as one of embodiment and integration.
Embodiment brings our intention back to the physical world... our bodies, our homes, the resources that sustain us. Integration allows us time to absorb what we've experienced and learned throughout the year, so that our growth can be harvested and transformed into something we can actually carry forward.
Virgo season also holds a special place in my heart because it's the season I became a Mother. And maybe that's why I feel this time of year so deeply. It reminds me that nurturing anything... a child a garden, a relationship, creative work, or our own inner life, requires our presence and to notice what needs tending.
The transitional space of September isn't asking to become an endless to do list or a time to establish new routines.
It offers us the beautiful energy of moving more deliberately through the world, to be more present within the life that we've already cultivated.
To drink our tea while it's warm.
To step outside and notice the last of the gardens blooms.
To witness the pollinators frantically gathering up the last of their stores as well.
We can always learn from Mother nature, observing activity that reminds us that we too have seasonal cycles. Maybe it's time to gather our own energy, rather than continually spend it, so that we can strengthen what will carry us through the season ahead.
We can't remain in a perpetual state of growth. Growth demands something of us and continually reaching for the next phase of transformation, eventually becomes exhausting. We also need seasons of integration. We have to remember to take time to embody our changes and live in them.
Before Autumn fully arrives, we can linger here, take a deep breath and observe.
Take note of what this year has brought you. How have you grown?
Allow yourself to process any changes that you realize have occurred.
Ask yourself what may need nurturing now, so that you feel nourished and supported through the upcoming winter season.
There will be time for everything that comes next, but for now September asks us to be HERE.
Fully present in the slowly changing light.
In gratitude and love,
MaryAnn