Chapter 2: The Gift of Transience

Embracing impermanence, finding peace in endings and transitions, and learning from nature and aging “Nothing in the world is permanent, and we’re foolish when we ask anything to last, but surely we’re still more foolish not to take delight in it while we have it.”

— W. Somerset Maugham Transience is one of the most important elements of Wabi-Sabi. Most often we experience transience and change at critical and not so critical moments of our lives. Sometimes though, we experience transience on a large or global scale that impact the lives of almost everyone we know. It feels as though we are experiencing a period of consequential change. Major transient events can be scary and daunting, especially when it feels as though all of it is out of our control. Fortunately you do have much more control to shape, shift and create the space, place and peace you desire in your life. In the West, we endeavor to cling tightly—to youth, to perfection, to success, to love, to identity—as if we can master permanence out of a world designed for change. But the Japanese way, particularly through the lens of Wabi-Sabi, offers us a gentler truth: everything is impermanent, and that is what makes it precious, beautiful and miraculous.

The cherry blossoms bloom and fall. The seasons shift in silence. Our faces change. Our roles evolve. And every moment, whether exquisite or excruciating, eventually becomes memory.

To embrace transience is not to become indifferent. It is to love more, not less. It is to become aware that the value of something often increases the closer we come to its end.

A Life Measured in Seasons

I intuitively knew during my years in Japan that this period of my life that it was going to be pivotal. My intuition compelled me to pay closer attention to the turning of time, the wonder of nature, and the curiosity of understanding all that was around me. One part of my life recognized that I was a child of a Western culture but was simultaneously being shaped and influenced by the Asian culture I was experiencing. Once, while In Kyoto, I watched the intersection of old and new, women wearing kimonos and alternatively women wearing mini skirts. Tourists snapping pictures to capture the memories of the beautiful architecture and shrines. It is difficult to explain but there was a reverence and unique pace to the city. .

So much of our anxiety stems from trying to hold on: to relevance, to beauty, to control. But what if we could see each stage of our lives not as something to manage, but something to experience?

The child becomes the mother, the executive becomes the mentor and the leader becomes the elder.

Each identity sheds into the next. And in each shedding, there is loss—but also room for rebirth.

Transitions as Thresholds

We often think of transitions as interruptions: the job that ended, the business that failed, the marriage that unraveled, the child who moved out, the chapter we didn’t want to close. But every ending is also a beginning in disguise. Because my personal life and experiences were entirely shaped by the mere essence of change, I find myself moving towards the imagined and unimagined of what could possibly come next.

What if your transition is not a detour but a divine design?

What if it is the space between who you were and who you’re becoming?

When I stepped away from Success in the City and my life in and around Washington, DC, I wasn’t sure who I would be without the title of The Diva. But it turns out, stepping away gave me back parts of myself I had shelved. The artist. The dreamer. The woman who sat in silence and listened deeply. In that ending, I didn’t dissolve—I returned.

Learning from Nature

Nature is our greatest teacher of impermanence.

The tide goes out. The petals fall. The wind shifts. And still, it is beautiful.

Wabi-Sabi invites us to mirror this rhythm in our own lives. To let go of the leaves when it’s time. To allow things—and people—to leave when they must. To age with grace, not resistance.

When we resist impermanence, we suffer. When we embrace it, we soften.

Aging becomes not a loss, but a layering. Grief becomes not an end, but an opening. Change becomes not a threat, but a teacher.

Making Peace with Impermanence

What would it look like to welcome endings with reverence, not resentment?

Could you throw a celebration for a business that served its purpose and now must close? Could you bless the relationship that brought you to your knees but helped you grow wings? Could you look in the mirror, see the silver in your hair, the lines around your eyes, and whisper: Thank you for staying with me this long?

Peace doesn’t come from freezing time. Peace comes from trusting it. Whenever I experience those events, relationships and circumstances that I find unsettling, painful and regretful I quietly say this mantra: "I bless you with love, I release you and let you go! You are free and I am free!" I then imagine blowing those feelings far into space and the universe and watching them drift away.

Your Golden Takeaway

Just as Kintsugi fills cracks with gold, we can learn to fill the shifts, changes and endings in our lives with meaning. Not everything is meant to last—but everything has something to teach us before it leaves.

Let that be your practice today: Not clinging, not rushing, not numbing—but noticing.

Notice what is shifting in your life. Notice what is asking to be released. Notice what wants to bloom next.

And let yourself feel it all.

Because the beauty of this moment… is that it will never come again, but another one is just around the corner.