Insight alone rarely changes us. This truth may seem disheartening at first, but it must be accepted for growth to progress. The process of self-work often begins with a moment of clarity—an “aha!” moment that feels like a breakthrough. Parker Palmer reminds us:
Insight is only a seed, and for insight to grow, it must be nurtured through ongoing, often painstaking work.
Let’s start with the breakthrough, though:
Perhaps you start noticing the echoes of your parents and how they have influenced your tendencies and patterns, or maybe you start to see how your ego is driving (and making a mess of) your relationships. These realizations feel monumental, and in a way, they are. But they’re also just the beginning.
I’ve had moments when I thought an insight would be all I needed—that seeing something clearly for the first time would lead to immediate change. And there’s always a brief period when it feels like that might be true. But what I’ve learned, time and again, is that the real work starts after the insight.
Our patterns, wounds, or beliefs are deeply rooted, and they don’t dissolve just because we’ve named them.
In his book Let Your Life Speak, Parker Palmer writes, “The attempt to live the undivided life will always uncover the shadowed places in our hearts… But the process is slow and endless, and the shadows never vanish.” It is a sobering truth: while the initial insight may feel like a resolution, it is only the beginning of a much longer journey. The shadowed places in our hearts, those parts of ourselves we’d rather avoid, are not dispelled by mere recognition. They must be revisited, understood, and integrated again and again.
This is the work I love. And to be really honest, sometimes I worry that others aren’t ready to engage it.
The work is significant and unending, but it is deeply rewarding. It is rewarding not because it promises an endpoint, but because it deepens our connection to who we truly are. Palmer writes, “Before you tell your life what you intend to do with it, listen for what it intends to do with you.” This shift—from trying to master life through insight to humbly partnering with its unfolding—captures the heart of the journey.
Transformation requires more than understanding; it calls for surrender, patience, and faith in the quiet, unseen growth happening beneath the surface.
I’ve seen this in my own life. Sometimes I’ve thought I was done with a particular issue, only to find it rearing its head in a new area. It’s frustrating. But what I’ve learned is that this isn’t failure—it’s the nature of the work. Growth isn’t linear, it’s cyclical.
This cycle can feel exhausting at times. As soon as you think you’ve made progress, life has a way of circling back, revealing deeper layers of the same wound or pattern. It’s easy to feel discouraged, to wonder if you’re making any progress at all. But this cycle is how transformation truly takes place.
Here’s what this work really looks like:
- A New Insight: Recognizing, naming, pondering, considering, reflecting, getting curious, asking questions, writing, judging, trying to withhold judgement.
- Effort: Noticing, pausing, collecting new information, sharing, practicing, working on new tools, coping mechanisms, seeking new information. This is not fast work, but every new piece of information (whether we label it as a success or a failure) expands our understanding.
- Growth: Traction. Sometimes right away, sometimes slow–then backsliding, regrouping, starting again. Hearing new thoughts and seeing new responses, less anger, less fear, more ease, more acceptance, more peace.
- A New Insight: Around we go again.
As Thomas Moore suggests in Care of the Soul, transformation doesn’t happen in the mind alone; it requires soul work, a sustained engagement with the deeper parts of ourselves.
The beauty of this process lies in its honesty. Midlife invites us to shift from the naive belief that insight alone can fix us to the deeper, wiser understanding that transformation is a practice, not a quick solution. This doesn’t mean we should despair or give up. It means we approach the work, time and again, with humility, patience, and a sense of purpose.
If you find yourself frustrated by the slow pace of change, take heart. This is the work of midlife: to see, to think, to try, to fail, and to try again. Insight is the seed. The work is the tending. And through that tending, over time, we begin to grow. And eventually, that growth breaks through the surface, and we start to see ourselves emerge above the ground, as the people we are meant to become.
