It’s a trap—a thirst trap.

The cults of fall, pumpkin spice, and sweater weather celebrate their high holy day today.

It’s the first day of fall. And I will admit, I am an initiate.

For days, I have been planning a fall equinox meal: corn chowder, pumpkin bread, and Guinness. Since I do not cook—not at all, I barely microwave—this is quite an event. This afternoon will be dedicated to chopping, stirring, and all things kitchen. 

Last night, I laid out a perfect fall outfit—olive leggings, a long-sleeved oatmeal tee, and a cozy grandpa cardigan which I will put on as soon as I post this blog, walk the dog, shower, and break my 3-day fast.

I lied, I’m not an initiate—I am a high priestess of fall.

Not eating for 72 hours was an effort to cleanse my body of the residue of an unfulfilled summer. Which sounds much more poignant than I intend.

But summer is not my season. I make big plans for big things that don’t come to pass (because I don’t really want to do them, but I plan what I am supposed to plan in summer) and then feel disappointed when those plans fail (because I didn’t do what I was supposed to do, right?) 

So I’ve spent the last three days focused on letting go of all those summer habits, supposals, and beliefs. Or rather, starving them out.

I’m not the first person to voluntarily undertake a sustained fast—and this isn’t the first time I have done it—but this time was different. Yes, I was hungry—anyone who doesn’t eat for three days and tells you they are not hungry is lying. And I was a bit hangry and had moments of manic—nearly lost my shit when I discovered three 90% empty bottles of ketchup in the refrigerator. Not sure why I was even in the refridgerator….

But, other than those brief moments, my mind was startlingly calm.

My son has ADHD. He takes a prescription drug on school days to help him focus on being in school and instead of focusing on everything else. He complains about it because he says it makes him feel bored. 

I think he means that it dims the riotous celebration of sights, sounds, and smells continually jumping in and out of his mind and keeping him in a constant state of thrill. He finds life without a mental party boring.

I don’t have ADHD, but I do have a riotous mind that doesn’t really allow me much rest. Fasting quieted my mind. I had things to do, and I could do them without the press and anguish I usually feel about things. I wrote difficult emails and graded papers; cleaned house and ran errands; journaled and read. At no point did I feel pressed for time, energy, or will.

I wasn’t bored, I was at ease. And my mind let me do what I wanted, needed, and could do rather than what I thought I should do.

September’s full Harvest moon has just passed—it is the light under which we reap what we have sown. The hunger of the past few days has helped me find what I really hunger for: gleaning from the world with a focused mind, a soothed body, and a recommitment to September’s January peace.