There are moments in life that split us open.
They arrive quietly or crash down like thunder. A diagnosis. A betrayal. An ending we didn’t choose. These ruptures don’t come with warnings or exit strategies. One moment we’re on the path we thought was ours—and the next, we’re somewhere else entirely. In the space left behind, there is pain. Sometimes profound, sometimes quiet. And there is uncertainty.
What now?
Our culture doesn’t always offer satisfying answers. Instead, it tends to give us two dominant narratives: either we bounce back, stronger and shinier than before—optimized by adversity—or we break. Disintegrate. And carry the trauma like a scar we learn to hide or over-intellectualize.
But what if there’s a third story?
A gentler, more soul-honest possibility.
What if suffering isn’t always a sign that something has gone wrong—but an invitation to deepen? Not in a performative, “turn your pain into power” kind of way. Not a heroic tale where you conquer your demons and emerge with a gleaming smile. I mean something quieter. Something alchemical. Something like… transmutation.
A way of sitting with what hurts, deeply and patiently, until something shifts.
This is what I want to explore today: a third way of meeting pain. One shaped by Stoic wisdom, modern psychology, and contemplative insight. A path that doesn’t bypass grief but lets it speak—and even guide us, if we’re willing to listen.
A Personal Threshold
Some years ago, I hit a threshold. It wasn’t a neat turning point or a poetic unraveling. It was chaotic, disorienting, and utterly real. Everything—externally and internally—began to fray. Plans fell apart. Identity fractured. No amount of productivity tools or project management could rescue me from what was happening.
I was forced inward.
And in that inward turning, I began to revisit old teachers. Old books. Old practices that once steadied me. The Stoics were among them—those austere, misunderstood philosophers from a couple thousand years ago who have, in recent years, made an odd comeback in the worlds of tech, business, and self-help. But unlike the modern caricature of Stoicism—cold logic, emotional detachment, a stiff upper lip—what I encountered was something else entirely.
Spiritual steadiness. Fierce gentleness. An unflinching honesty about pain.
Marcus Aurelius, who had long been a companion in my intellectual life, began speaking to me differently. More intimately. One line in particular lodged itself in my psyche:
“The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.”
At first, it sounded like something from a TED talk. But as I sat with it—really sat with it—I began to understand. What I most wanted to avoid might be what I most needed to face. The blockages weren’t detours from the path. They were the path.
The Alchemy of Suffering
To use the language of alchemy might feel out of place in a post-empirical world, but I think it has its uses—especially when we’re talking about transformation. The Stoics didn’t talk about “post-traumatic growth” in the way we do today, but their ideas revolve around the same principle: that adversity reveals character, and character reveals truth.
Not truth in a doctrinal or ideological sense. But truth in the soul-deep, meaning-making sense. The sense that something in us is trying to become more real.
When we go through something that breaks our ordinary world—be it loss, betrayal, burnout, illness—we’re often tempted to seek shortcuts. We look for ways to “get over it.” To return to baseline. But baseline no longer exists. The ground has shifted. The person we were before is not the person who must now move forward.
So what do we do?
This is where the idea of post-traumatic growth becomes relevant—not as a prescription, but as a possibility.
Post-Traumatic Growth: The Research
In the late 1990s, psychologists Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun began studying people who had undergone severe trauma—bereavement, serious illness, violent assault—and noticed a curious pattern. Many didn’t just survive their experiences. They grew. Not in every case, and not in a linear, upward fashion. But in a measurable, meaningful way.
They identified five dimensions of what they called post-traumatic growth:
- Greater appreciation of life
- Deeper relationships
- New possibilities in life
- Increased personal strength
- Spiritual or existential development
These are not “silver linings” or cheap reframings. They are hard-won realignments. And crucially, growth does notnegate suffering. People who grow after trauma still carry pain. But that pain has become a doorway to something else—something that wouldn’t have emerged otherwise.
In other words, what stands in the way becomes the way.
Three Tools for Transmutation
Let’s look more closely at how one might practice this path—not as a tidy formula, but as an orientation toward life.
1. Stoic Framing
The Stoics teach us to distinguish between what is in our control and what is not. Illness, heartbreak, loss—these are often outside our sphere of influence. But how we meet them? That is where our freedom begins.
This isn’t about suppression. It’s about perspective. Seneca wrote,
“A setback has often cleared the way for greater things.”
When we learn to frame suffering as material—not obstacle—it shifts our orientation. We move from resistance to participation. From avoidance to inquiry.
Ask yourself: What is this moment asking of me? What capacity is it calling forth?
2. Contemplative Practice
Stillness matters. When the world turns upside down, we need anchors. Breath. Awareness. A place to witness the storm without collapsing into it.
Whether it’s mindfulness, centering prayer, or simply sitting in silence each morning—contemplative practice builds the inner spaciousness needed for transmutation. It doesn’t erase pain. It makes us capable of holding it.
And over time, we start to feel something unexpected: a quiet intimacy with our own suffering. Not self-pity. Not indulgence. Just presence.
3. Inner Narrative Work
The stories we tell about our pain matter. Are we a victim of cruel randomness? A cautionary tale? Or are we a pilgrim—still walking, still learning, still becoming?
Psychologists have found that the ability to integrate trauma into a coherent narrative is one of the strongest predictors of healing. This doesn’t mean rushing to make meaning. It means allowing meaning to unfold, slowly and honestly.
Sometimes, the most powerful narrative isn’t one of triumph—but of tenderness. A story where you didn’t conquer the mountain, but you learned how to rest halfway up.
Gentle Awakening
I don’t believe in quick fixes. I don’t believe that every hardship hides a gift. And I don’t believe that pain makes us better people by default.
But I do believe—fiercely—in our capacity to meet life deeply. I believe that suffering, when approached with courage, patience, and honesty, can become a site of transformation. Not because pain is inherently good, but because we are inherently creative.
And so: if you’re in a season of rupture, if the story you were writing has been torn open, let me offer this as a small encouragement:
There is no shame in grief. There is no weakness in disorientation. And there is no rush.
What hurts may also be what heals.
And healing, in this deeper sense, is less about fixing and more about becoming. Becoming more truthful. More rooted. More available to the life that is still yours.
Subscribe to my free newsletter for more tools, guided meditations, and productivity insights.
If you want to start putting these ideas into action, you can sign up for Integrative Meditation (Level 1). This course represents the culmination of years of learning, practice, and personal growth. Integrative Meditation is a comprehensive framework designed to enhance your mental and emotional well-being. It draws on Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy (MBCT), positive psychology, neuroscience, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), journaling, and breathwork to support you in reducing stress, enhancing focus, building emotional resilience, and discovering your true self.
Discover more from Allan Johnson, PhD
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
