Finding Meaning in Adversity

The Guesthouse

“This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.”

-       Rumi

Adversity rarely feels meaningful while we’re in it. It can arrive abruptly — a loss, a rupture, an unravelling — and suddenly the world as we knew it shifts. The invitation, though not always obvious, is to pause. To be with what has come. To listen closely to what it might be asking of us.

In my coaching work, I often meet people in these threshold spaces — when something has ended, changed, or fallen away, and they’re unsure what comes next. It’s tender territory, and profoundly human. 

Rather than rushing to find a silver lining or apply logic, we begin with presence. With making space for what’s here. And gradually, often quietly, something begins to re-form. A sense of inner movement, a re-rooting in the self.

The three centres of experience

When we’re faced with adversity, we don’t just experience it cognitively — we feel it through our whole system.

• The gut might clench with anger or signal the need to establish firmer boundaries.

• The heart carries grief, shame, or a quiet sense of disorientation — who am I now, if this part of my life has shifted?

• The head can race with thoughts: projecting futures, analysing past choices, looping around fears of scarcity or not-enoughness.

Each of these responses is valid. They’re expressions of how the mind-body tries to make sense of pain. But we can’t think our way through healing. We need to feel it. Name it. Sit with it. And, when we’re ready, reflect on what it might mean.

What if it’s all part of it?

There’s a poem that’s accompanied me through many of life’s turning points — Rumi’s The Guesthouse. It speaks of welcoming whatever life brings, even the feelings we’d rather avoid. Sadness. Rage. Shame. All of them guests, here to teach us something.

This attitude of welcome isn’t always easy. But it’s where transformation begins.

Sometimes we shy away from certain emotions because we don’t yet have the capacity to hold them. Shame, in particular, can be difficult. But when we allow ourselves to feel it — not as a flaw, but as a messenger — we begin to reclaim the parts of ourselves we’ve tucked away. 

Through acknowledgement and integration, we can release what no longer serves us and begin to write a new story.

Adversity as teacher

We often imagine resilience as something we’re born with. But in truth, it’s cultivated. Each time we face something hard and find our way through, we build a little more capacity to hold life as it is.

 Adversity has a way of deepening us. It softens our edges and grows our compassion — for ourselves and for others. Over time, it can even bring a quiet wisdom: I’ve been here before. I made it through. This too will pass.

Coaching can be a powerful companion in this process. It’s a space to unpack what’s happened, explore the emotional terrain, and make meaning from the experience — not by bypassing it, but by being with it. Body, heart, and mind all included.

A moment to breathe

If you’re in a difficult season right now, perhaps begin here:

Take a breath.

Place a hand on your heart or your belly.

Ask: What is present in me right now? What needs attention, acknowledgement, or kindness?

Sometimes the way forward begins with something as simple as that.

In time, clarity can grow from even the most tangled moments. The path may not be linear, but it is yours — and you don’t have to walk it alone.

If you’re navigating a life transition or working through something tender, coaching can offer a grounded, compassionate space to explore what’s next. I’d be honoured to walk alongside you.

Written by Margi Biggs