September is the new January
I rarely ring in the New Year in the way we've been conditioned to.
For many years now, my fresh start begins at the end of summer—like the commencement of school. I can't shake it. The last time I was in school mode was three decades ago. Yet, every September, my mood mimics the leaves turning into shades of brown and rust—sombre, melancholy, and adrift. For me, children headed to classes are like the equivalent of buds pushing through the ground in April. I'm confronted with the where am I? what am I doing with my life? questions.
I've never enjoyed the New Year celebrations, which occur when there isn't even a change in seasons. Living in Canada, we voyage from the dark into the darker. Woohoo. The pressure to party, the need to forge optimistic life chapters, i.e., the healthy body, bold personal and professional ambitions, and the proclamation of resolutions which, by the end of January, transforms into a case of the Winter Blues.
My girlfriends and I used to have a very casual and fun January brunch tradition. After noshing, we got out a sheet of paper, divided it into four quadrants, and made wishes. We didn't like calling them resolutions. The squares were titled Work, Family/Friends, Love, and Other. Sometimes, we'd be brave enough to read a few out.
The best part was having brunch with the girls and learning what was on their minds as the new year launched—what was important for each of them.
In my later adulthood (read: post-35), I adopted September as my New Year. I have created a celebration that exalts my female energy, honouring the Harvest Moon.
I posed this concept to my friend Julie Comfort, a mother of two school-aged children. She concurs: "Even without my children, I think of September as having the possibility of something fresh, a new cycle."
Julie added that the idea of a seasonal change parallels her sense of internal mutations simmering, like plants that germinate, grow and sprout, then return to the earth.
"It totally makes sense considering that as women, we are cyclical beings. We have a rhythm."
To this end, I turn to Wiccans for inspiration. Their beliefs and rituals have survived through the centuries, and their veneration of the Moon, the incarnation of the female spirit, resonates with me.
By the way, I have no religious affiliation as neither parent passed on their spiritual traditions--my mother is Catholic and still prays for me, while my father was raised Buddhist and never informed me nor my siblings of any teachings.
The Moon is vital to Wicca and other forms of paganism. In many cultures, it's connected to fertility, death, and rebirth. The Chinese associate it with Yin energy, while Selene is the Greek embodiment of the Moon. She is said to drive her moon chariot across the night sky, often alongside her brother Helios (the sun).
Most fascinating is Coyolxauhqui, the Aztec goddess of the Moon or Milky Way.
According to Aztec lore, Coyolxauhqui wanted to overthrow the kingdom, but her brother thwarted her and threw her body down a mountain, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. Coyolxauhqui gathered her fragments of self and unified them. Surveying the damage, she metamorphosed into something new and became the Moon. I can't think of a better metaphor for healing.
Essentially, the lunar body personifies female intuition and energy, thus bringing us into harmony with our deepest desires, which we wish to transform and manifest.
Consequently, the Autumnal Equinox* or Harvest Moon (occurring in the Northern Hemisphere around September 22nd this year) is a fundamental event. On this date, night and day are equal, and therefore, the celebration is concerned with balance—light and dark, loss and renewal, life and death.
In marking this auspicious moment, one must honour the past six months of abundance, similar to when farmers were reaping their harvests. This means preparing for the cycle's next phase, acknowledging with gratitude for one's blessings, and then sharing the goods.
How to prepare for the new season
In prepping for the new year, one must clear and cleanse. So, haul out that mop and vacuum to clean your home and remove objects, clothes and other items you no longer require.
Get some sage or Palo Santo to burn and cleanse all the rooms by walking through your place slowly. Palo Santo (a.k.a. Sacred Wood) has been used in South America for thousands of years. Only the wood that has naturally fallen from the branches of the Palo Santo tree, Bursera graveolens, is collected for use.
Another option is to employ a beeswax candle, which is clean-burning and purifying.
Next, the blessings part. As Dolly Parton has proclaimed: if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.
Compose a list on a sheet of paper--what attitudes, people, or old beliefs need to be released. Burn the paper. On the day of the Equinox, face the morning light and recall all the lovely experiences you've had this past year. Soak in those feelings: the joy of friendship and love, the delicious morsels of food, the delights of discovering new places and perspectives. Cherish plenitude in all its forms.
Next, the best aspect of commemorating the Divine Feminine New Year is sharing. As you've cleared your drawers and closets, feel free to give away these things. Other possibilities include starting a donation drive for your favourite cause, giving time to someone you needs your help, using your skills to benefit others, babysitting or pet sitting for a friend or relative. Whatever feels right.
This time is also called the Second Harvest. Farmers used to mark it with a big feast, i.e., Thanksgiving. You don't have to wait for any official holiday to hold a potluck where everyone can bring something to nourish others. This has echoes of that New Year's brunch I used to have with my girlfriends, which imbued a sense of community, connection, and support.
Finally, to pay homage to the fresh start, I suggest doing something you haven't done before. It could be simple or complex: visit another part of your town/area you've never seen, learn freaky dance moves like Waacking, or make kimchi!
One September, I faced my fear of heights by registering to learn mountain climbing. The experience saturated me with a rejuvenating inner glow, like a smouldering fire, invigorating me for months.
June Chua is a writer and journalist. Read more of her work in the upcoming Back Where I Came From: On Culture, Identity, and Home. Her previous piece for Hard Copy is on Sandra Oh.