September 1, 2025
Dear friends,
I am clinging to the last drops of summer as I find myself once more in a space of transition. I understand that change is good—it refines us and allows us to come to conclusions about what is truly important. Yet, in the midst of it, adaptation feels stressful. I crave change—I want my life to evolve, grow, blossom into its next iteration. Yet, in direct opposition, I crave comfort. The two divergent forces dance in my emotional body. I have no words of wisdom—just a resting awareness, the birth of a question: an inquiry.
An inquiry that has been with me for over ten years is the question of purpose. In college, I was strikingly undecided about which course of action to pursue in terms of my life’s work. I have always known that I wanted my work to have meaning. This inquiry has led me to explore different paths over the years. In my latest exploration of this question, I read Stephen Cope’s book The Great Work of Your Life, where he explores the concept of dharma. In a reiteration of the Bhagavad Gita, he writes:
“Your dharma is your way of staying connected with your true nature. It is the particular way in which you can devote your life to the welfare of all things. Your dharma is your very way of expressing the Truth. Your dharma is the one place where you can penetrate the fleeting world of form.”
The words “the one place where you can penetrate the fleeting world of form” circle around in my mind. I have more questions than answers. Following my curiosity—staying with my inquiries—has been the purest way of moving toward anything resembling dharma. A wise teacher once told me that our dharma is not what we do but who we are. Centering being allowed me to begin to let go of all the external pressures and to focus on the importance of relationships and connection.
Cope writes that “if we are too eager to have everything, we will almost certainly miss the one thing we need.” I am back where I started in this letter—realizing what is important, walking into the next season with intent. In the summer, I practice letting go of something that isn’t serving me—so that I can live more fully in the joys of sunlight. As I write, I am realizing that my fall practice is learning to be with change—witnessing a season marked by the shifting of colors, the letting go of leaves. The external often mirrors the internal. Inside me, something is shifting in terms of what is important—what is worth letting go, and what is worth nurturing and savoring.
With love & without wax,
Silvana
