To live in this world you must be able to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
—Mary Oliver

September is a quiet arrival.
Not a turning back, but a settling in.
Into your body. Into your breath.
Into the parts of yourself that summer scattered.
Where summer stretches toward its last bloom, September is the stillness that follows the fullness—the quiet that comes after the growing season, but before the fall.

It is a threshold month, and thresholds are sacred.

You are not who you were in June.
And you are not yet who you will be in October.
This is the space between.
And it is full of wisdom.

In the Space Between

September is not asking you to bloom.
It’s asking you to gather.
To lay your hands on what has ripened.
To walk more slowly.
To notice what is ending—and what still remains.

This is a month of edges.
Cool mornings and golden afternoons.
Ripened fruit and falling leaves.
Holding on and letting go.

The wild woman in you is not lost—
She is walking barefoot through orchards.
She is wrapping herself in soft layers.
She is watching the light shift and letting herself shift, too.

Ask Yourself:

What has this year taught me so far?
Where do I need more balance in my life?
What am I being invited to release—gently, and with love?

The Wild Woman Grounds

September belongs to the woman who knows how to ground herself.
She moves with the rhythms of the Earth.
She doesn’t chase what is leaving—
She gathers what’s here.
She walks slowly, listens deeply, and trusts the wisdom of her own pace.

She is the woman who takes her time.
Who feels the tilt of the year in her bones.
Who understands that change doesn’t always come with noise—
Sometimes it arrives with silence and scent and softness.

Ways to Honor Your September Self:

Create a Harvest Altar: Gather fallen leaves, apples, acorns, or personal tokens that remind you of what you’ve grown. Place them where you can see them.
Simplify Your Schedule: Where can you choose ease over effort? Let spaciousness become a ritual.
Root Down: Go barefoot in the grass, press your spine to a tree, cook with root vegetables. Ground your body in the now.
Move with Mindfulness: Take a long walk without your phone. Stretch slowly. Dance without needing to perform.
Mark the Equinox: On September 22, honor the day where light and dark are equal. Write down what you’re balancing—and what you're ready to release.

Nourishment for Your Wild Heart

Herbs & Plants

Oatstraw — to nourish and calm the nervous system
Nettle — for strength and mineral support
Lavender — to soothe, soften, and center
Thyme — for clarity and resilience

Seasonal Foods

Apples — crisp wisdom, ancestral sweetness
Squash — hearty and grounding
Mushrooms — earthy and mysterious
Pears — tender, fleeting softness

Energetic Allies

Zinc — for immunity as the air cools
Adaptogens — to balance hormones and support your nervous system
Herbal infusions — for gentle, sustained support (think oatstraw, nettle, chamomile)

**The Wild Woman Who Grew Forests**

*“It’s the little things citizens do. That’s what will make the difference. My little thing is planting trees.”*

The Spirit of Wangari Maathai

September carries the spirit of Wangari Maathai—a woman who understood the power of patience, the strength in rooted action and the truth that transformation begins in the soil beneath our feet.

Born in rural Kenya in 1940, Wangari was the first woman in East and Central Africa to earn a doctorate degree. But her wildness was not in breaking records—it was in reconnecting people to the earth, to each other and to themselves.

In 1977, she founded the Green Belt Movement, a grassroots effort that empowered Kenyan women to plant trees, restore land, and reclaim agency over their lives. One tree at a time, Wangari taught that healing the planet and healing ourselves are the same work.

She faced arrests. Death threats. Political exile.
Still—she kept planting.
Kept speaking.
Kept returning to the land.

Wangari Maathai did not burn brightly—she grew deeply.
She did not shout to be heard—she let forests speak for her.
She did not rage for the sake of noise—she moved like weather: slow, certain, and unstoppable.

September carries her energy:

The quiet insistence of roots breaking through stone
The courage to stay even when change is slow
The wisdom to nurture what others overlook
The understanding that legacy grows one seed at a time

Wangari reminds us:

You don’t need to be loud to be powerful.
You don’t need to be fast to make change.
And you don’t need permission to begin.

Sometimes, the most radical act is to put your hands in the soil—
and begin again.

The Wild Woman Walks Between

September belongs to the woman who walks between worlds.
She knows the language of change—does not resist it, does not rush it.
She lets it speak through wind, through leaf, through silence.

She is not lost in longing, nor clinging to what was.
She is paying attention.

She walks barefoot on cooling ground,
gathers seeds in one hand and soft endings in the other.

She is the keeper of the quiet shift.
The one who tends what cannot be seen yet—
intuition, integration, rest.

She trusts the process before it becomes visible.
She doesn’t need proof—she needs presence.

She wears transition like a second skin:
Layered. Honest. Undone in all the right ways.

September’s Quiet Threshold