Late Summer, Early Fall

I used to see an acupuncturist in Chinatown, off of bustling Canal street in lower Manhattan.

On my first visit, almost fifteen years ago, I filled out a health intake form, but instead of checking off the familiar medical history boxes, this one asked about my favorite color and seasons — it differentiated between the typical four: There was a category for Late Summer and one for Early Fall. I checked both of those.

This was around the time I began dating Dan, and it became an early joke of ours, if one of us mentioned Summer, Dan would be sure to note that he meant late Summer. But the distinction grew to make sense to me.

Years later, when we named our daughter Autumn, it wasn’t inspired by the days of post Thanksgiving chill, but by that distinct Early Fall — the moon a blood orange, leaves of every red and yellow, and the sense of possibility that came with this specific time of year — every year, over and over again.

The acupuncturist asked me questions about my life; he looked at my tongue and told me that my ailments were caused by holding in anger and sadness.

When he placed the delicate needles on the corresponding pressure points along my body, I felt a current — the energy moving through my limbs, my fingers and toes.

Late summer — the moment we’re currently inhabiting— marks my birthday and my son’s birthday (one day apart) the start of the school year and, of course, the Jewish High Holy Days — which, like some endless pool of mercy, every time they circle, fill me with an incredible sense of being able to start again, to try again — to do better.

Every year I feel that. I do.

Even now, when the school year begins in what used to be our dining room.

Anger and sadness. Collectively, we are grappling with these emotions, all of us.

And every year we transgress. (If we didn’t would the holiday be filled with any sense of awe?)

I take consolation that this time of year feels vitally relevant each time — every go round.

Because we’re alive, we transgress, and because we’re alive, we have the possibility to do better.

Wishing everyone a season filled with meaning and release.

Prayer + Action: San Francisco Interfaith Council