September, that unpredictable pachyderm
We think we’ve got September all figured out, and then bam: the elephant of the season stomps all over us. This article shows you how to survive, laugh, and even savor each piece of the pachyderm.
There’s the proverb, a little barbaric and a little funny too: “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” In other words: how do you swallow a mountain of tasks that looks impossible? Not all at once, but piece by piece, bite by bite. They say the phrase has been around since the 1970s, popularized by productivity gurus—the kind of people who get up at 5 a.m. to meditate, run a marathon, and write three chapters before you’ve even had your first coffee.
In short, the elephant has become a universal metaphor for everything that crushes us, those mastodons we drag around in our calendars or in our heads. And if you’re looking for a life-sized specimen, no need to book a safari: just wait for September. It’s the month when the elephant shows up in your living room with its suitcases, its germs, and its school forms.
The false start after the empty summer
During summer, we imagine coming back refreshed, full of new energy. We picture September as a starting line: shiny shoes, crisp notebooks, ready to eat up the miles.
Except, no. Instead, we find ourselves running a marathon in flip-flops. The calendar fills up faster than the kids’ pencil cases, work greets you with an avalanche of unread emails, and the vacation optimism evaporates with the first cold.
The shock is brutal. We pictured ourselves as sprinters, and we turn out to be wheezing snails. It’s not a personal failure—it’s just the nature of September: it doesn’t restart, it catapults you. The first bite of elephant is always indigestible.
Taming the chaos before it crushes you
Let’s admit it: September is not glamorous. Catalogs sell it as the month of good resolutions, fresh starts, and the thrilling “back to school.” In reality, it’s the month of germs exchanged on school benches, days that feel too short, mornings too dark, colleagues coughing in front of the coffee machine.
This pachyderm is ungrateful. It smells of cold rain, it snores, it stomps on your projects with its heavy feet. Taking it as it is, with all its rough edges, helps you avoid the double punishment: having too much to do and being disappointed because you thought it would look prettier. An elephant stays an elephant: it doesn’t fit into an Instagrammable lunchbox.
Finding the tender bits under the thick skin
Luckily, even a pachyderm has soft spots. In September, some moments warm you: the first scarf you wrap like a portable duvet, the hot chocolate stolen at 4 p.m., the guilty pleasure of digging out your thick socks again. There’s also the return of routine, a frame that—despite its constraints—eventually reassures.
These are the tender cuts of the elephant: if you look for them, you can savor them. They don’t make the whole beast disappear, but they make digestion easier. And as you go, bite after bite, you start to find a rhythm.
Bite after bite, taming the beast
Eating your September elephant is not some heroic feat. It’s a humble discipline: accepting the heaviness, swallowing piece by piece, savoring what can be savored, and not beating yourself up when the beast feels endless.
And sometimes, each bite brings up stress, anger, or frustration—learning to recognize how deqling with emotions is part of the work too.
In the end, September isn’t a monster to be slain. It’s just a grumpy pachyderm lumbering through our month with its baggage. The choice is ours: get trampled… or learn to dance between its feet, bite by bite, all the way to winter.
