September: The autumn equinox. When the Season Changes, We Can Too.

There’s something about September. You can feel that things are changing.

Even when you can’t quite put your finger on what it is. The mornings are a little cooler, the light begins to soften and there’s often that first hint that summer is starting to loosen its grip. The trees haven’t quite decided what they’re doing yet, but here and there a leaf is beginning to turn.

September is often described as a month of new beginnings. The children go back to school, holidays come to an end and routines start to return. Perhaps you’ve bought a new diary, cleared out a cupboard or decided that this is going to be the month you finally get yourself organised.

There’s nothing wrong with any of that. A fresh start can feel good. But I wonder whether we sometimes put too much pressure on ourselves to use September as a reset button.

Because life doesn’t work quite so neatly.

Just because the calendar has moved into a new month doesn’t mean that we have finished with whatever the previous one held. You might be coming into September feeling rested and ready for something new. You might also be tired, carrying something that happened over the summer, or simply trying to find your feet again after a period that hasn’t gone quite as you expected.

We don’t all arrive at September from the same place.

Not everything needs to be a fresh start.

There can be something quite relentless about the language of starting again. New term. New routine. New goals. New habits. A better version of ourselves.

It can leave us with the feeling that we should always be improving, changing or doing something differently.

But perhaps a change of season doesn’t have to mean becoming a new person.

Perhaps it can simply be a chance to stop for a moment and notice where you actually are.

What has the summer been like for you? What has it given you? What has it taken from you? Have there been things you’ve enjoyed that you want more of? Things you’ve realised you don’t want anymore? Have you been so busy getting through things that you haven’t really had the opportunity to think about any of it?

Sometimes we don’t need another goal. We need a moment to catch up with ourselves.

There is something to be said for being in between.

One of the things I like about September is that it doesn’t feel completely like summer or completely like autumn. There is a period of overlap.

Some flowers are still blooming, while others are beginning to fade. The trees are still mostly green, but you start to notice little changes. The evenings become shorter and the air feels different, but there can still be beautiful warm days.

And then, around the end of September, we reach the autumn equinox.

It is the point in the year when day and night are roughly equal in length, marking the astronomical beginning of autumn in the Northern Hemisphere. But nature doesn’t suddenly wake up on the morning of the equinox and decide that summer has officially finished. The change has already been happening quietly.

The light has been shifting. The mornings have been cooler. The evenings have been drawing in. Leaves have started to change colour and the landscape is gradually moving towards something different.

There is something about the equinox that I find quite lovely. It is a point of balance, but it is also a turning point. From here, the days will gradually become shorter and the nights longer.

Perhaps there is something we can take from that.

We can sometimes think of change as something dramatic. A decision, an ending, a beginning, a moment when everything suddenly becomes different. But much of the change that happens in our lives is quieter than that.

We change gradually.

We adapt. We learn. We notice things. We outgrow things. We sometimes find ourselves somewhere completely different from where we expected to be, without being able to pinpoint exactly when the change happened.

Nature doesn’t seem particularly bothered about being in between seasons. It doesn’t need to make a decision about whether it is still summer or has officially become autumn. It simply changes, gradually and in its own time.

We can find being “in between” much harder.

We might want to know what comes next. We might feel that we should have made a decision, worked things out or moved on by now. We can be very good at putting pressure on ourselves to have an answer before we’re actually ready to have one.

But there is nothing wrong with not knowing. (Apart from being hardwired to be uncomfortable with it).

You can be balanced and changing at the same time.

You can be grateful for where you are and still know that something needs to be different.

You can be somewhere in the middle, not quite where you were, but not yet where you are going.

Sometimes we are in the middle of a change before we have even found the words to describe it.

And perhaps we don’t need to rush that process.

Nature certainly doesn’t.

What are you carrying with you?

September also makes me think about what we take with us from one season into another.

We often talk about letting go, but I think there is another question worth asking: what do you want to keep?

Perhaps you’ve learnt something about yourself over the last few months. Perhaps you’ve discovered that you need more rest than you thought, or that a particular relationship leaves you feeling drained. Perhaps you’ve found something that makes you feel more like yourself. Maybe you’ve become a little clearer about what matters to you.

These things are worth noticing.

We can also become aware of what we have been carrying that has become too heavy. Expectations, guilt, people-pleasing, the belief that we should be coping better, or the pressure to keep everything going for everyone else.

Not everything that has travelled with us this far needs to come into the next season.

And we don’t have to work everything out at once.

A September walk.

If you happen to be outside this month, perhaps take a little time to notice the change around you. You don’t need to turn it into a mindfulness exercise or find some profound meaning in a fallen leaf. Just notice what is there.

What does the air feel like? What can you hear? What has changed since the last time you were here? What is still the same?

Then, if you feel like it, bring that same curiosity towards yourself.

What is changing for me at the moment?

What would I like to leave behind?

What do I want to carry forward?

And is there something I’m trying to rush that might actually need a little more time?

You may not have answers. That’s okay. The point isn’t to come away with a five-step plan for reinventing yourself before October.

Sometimes noticing is enough.

We are seasoned too.

Perhaps one of the most comforting things about the changing seasons is that none of them are permanent.

Summer comes to an end. Autumn arrives. Winter follows. Then, eventually, spring comes around again.

There are times when things feel full of energy and possibility, and there are other times when life feels quieter, slower or more uncertain. We aren’t supposed to be at our most productive, energetic or enthusiastic all of the time.

We are not machines.

We are people, and people have seasons too.

So if September finds you ready for a fresh start, embrace it. If it finds you tired and not remotely interested in reinventing yourself, that’s okay too. And if you’re somewhere in the middle, trying to work out what comes next, there is no need to hurry.

Maybe this September doesn’t need to be about starting over.

Maybe it can simply be about paying attention to where you are now, recognising what you’ve been through, deciding what is worth carrying forward and giving yourself permission to leave a few things behind.

The season is changing.

And perhaps, quietly and in your own time, you are too.

The Seasoned Soul is about making space for all the seasons of being human, not just the ones where everything feels like it’s going well.