As we approach the Summer Solstice, I find myself reflecting on the questions we ask ourselves throughout life.

For years, perhaps decades, many of us have carried the same questions:

Why am I here?

What is my purpose?

Who am I?

These are beautiful questions. They have led people to books, teachers, retreats, spiritual practices, and countless moments of self-discovery. They have certainly led me down many paths.

There was a time when I asked them constantly.

Not casually, but deeply.

I wanted to understand why I was here and what I was meant to do with this life. I believed there was an answer waiting for me somewhere if I could just search long enough, study hard enough, heal enough, or become aware enough.

And perhaps those questions are necessary for a season of our lives.

They wake us up.

They invite us to look beyond the routines and expectations we have inherited. They help us discover that there is more to us than the roles we play and the stories we have been told.

But standing at this Summer Solstice, I find myself wondering if the questions themselves are changing.

Not because they are no longer important.

But because perhaps they have already done their job.

What if there comes a point where life is no longer asking us to search for our purpose?

What if life is asking us to live it?

What if the deeper question is no longer, “Who am I?” but “What is trying to emerge through me now?”

That question feels different.

It feels less like a search and more like a listening.

Less about becoming someone and more about allowing something to unfold.

Ironically, this realization became clearer during my recent trip to Colombia.

The trip was not planned as a spiritual pilgrimage. There were practical reasons for going, and yet, as often happens in life, one conversation led to another, one invitation led to another, and a series of seemingly unrelated events slowly unfolded into a journey I never could have anticipated.

Looking back now, I can see how many small pieces aligned to bring me there.

What I thought was one kind of trip became something entirely different.

One of the greatest gifts was the opportunity to participate in Yagé ceremony and deepen my connection with Pachamama. It is difficult to fully describe experiences like these because they are felt more than understood. They have a way of moving beyond words and directly into the heart.

Yet the most important realization was not found in the ceremony itself.

It was found in what the experience asked of me.

For much of my life, I have been the one holding space.

I have been the facilitator, the guide, the listener, the supporter. My work has centered around helping others navigate their own journeys of healing, awareness, and transformation.

This time was different.

For once, I was the one being held.

I was the one receiving.

I was the one allowing others to guide the experience rather than feeling responsible for creating it.

I had forgotten how restorative that can be.

Receiving sounds simple until life asks you to actually do it.

Many of us become so accustomed to giving, fixing, helping, supporting, leading, and carrying that we forget there is another side to the exchange. We forget that allowing ourselves to receive can be just as healing as offering something to others.

There was a vitality in that realization.

A softness.

A reminder that life does not always require effort. Sometimes it asks for trust.

As I watched the people around me throughout the journey, I noticed something similar. I saw people stepping beyond familiar boundaries. I saw courage where there had once been hesitation. I saw individuals moving beyond comfort zones they may not have even realized they had created for themselves.

None of it looked dramatic from the outside.

Yet transformation rarely does.

Most meaningful growth happens quietly.

It happens when we say yes to an invitation.

When we trust an unfamiliar path.

When we release the need to know exactly where we are going.

Perhaps that is why this Solstice feels different to me.

The Summer Solstice marks the moment when the light reaches its fullest expression. Traditionally, it is a time of reflection, illumination, and possibility.

But perhaps the invitation this year is not to search for more answers.

Perhaps it is to notice what has already been illuminated.

Perhaps we no longer need to ask, “Who am I?”

Perhaps we have spent enough years gathering information about ourselves.

Perhaps the question now is:

What is life asking of me that I am finally quiet enough to hear?

Not from the mind.

Not from the endless search.

But from that deeper place within us that has known all along.

As the light reaches its peak this Solstice, maybe our task is not to become more.

Maybe it is simply to allow ourselves to fully receive what is already trying to emerge.