What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from. ~T.S. Eliot
September: Summer ends, and we begin the push to the end of the year. Summer ends and work resumes in earnest.
September: the first thing I did was clean my desk.
The very act of sorting books, papers and projects has helped me choose what to place front and center of my attention and which to shelve for the time being. This simple act has given me focus, structure and deadlines.
September is full of promise and hope. So are a clean desk and the deadline of a year’s end just over the horizon. I’m feeling hopeful and focused to be back at my desk after a summer of grief.
This September: I’m adjusting to the memory of loving parents who are not longer alive. I’m peering through the murky fog of mourning and see hope and promise in the slow death of the garden as it gives up its bounty. I hear the crickets singing summer’s end and know the silence of winter is coming. I welcome the gradually shortening days as the earth tilts away from the extended daylight that makes summer so luxurious. And I welcome the shift that allows me to sit at my desk with focus and energy to blog, to teach, and to advance a novel that’s starting to sing in me.
September is like taking a breath: I inhale cool air of intention and exhale the warm air of summer’s ease.
September is a time to focus and write.
What does September mean to you?