This Too Shall Pass: Both the Welcome & The Unwelcome

I had come to this gathering to grow my network. Instead, I gained a powerful insight that led me to examine how I view and navigate my life.

I sat around a conference table with eight other business professionals. We were part of a facilitated peer group that meets monthly to network, learn, and provide insight on the challenges we face.

After brief introductions, we began with a standard check-in. Each person rated their present state on a scale of 1 to 10 in three areas: health, business, and life. A 1 was awful; a 10 was wonderful.

Most of us had weighed in with scores that were a mix of fives, more sixes and sevens, and a lone eight—until it was Ann’s turn.

Ann is a successful business owner, whom I judged to be in her mid-sixties. She had founded and led a successful company for decades. She was quiet but well-spoken and clearly well-regarded by the group. She began her turn by reporting a health score of three.

The room stilled. We were unsure how to respond. Ann then explained: her cancer had returned. Tests and treatment were imminent. The next six months would be difficult, and the longer-term prognosis was unknown.

Undeterred, she moved on. She rated her business a six, offering a few reasons why.

Then came the stunning moment.

Her life score?

I fully expected—like others around the table—that her life score would fall below five. After all, her health was dire. Her business was stable, but not exceptional.

And yet, when Ann declared her life score a 10, disbelief rippled through the room.

The facilitator asked her to explain.

What followed stretched my thinking in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

In her eloquent way, Ann painted a picture of her life not as a series of isolated compartments—work, family, health, faith—but as a whole. In her score of 10, she honored all that she had, rather than focusing on what she lacked.

She took the long view. She evaluated her entire life, not just this immediate moment. And her conclusion was simple:

Her life is—and has been, and will be—a 10. This was not denial. It was perspective.

She acknowledged the seriousness of her condition while also recognizing the richness of her life as a whole. Life, she showed us, can be meaningful and beautiful even when parts of it are painful or unwanted.

I’ve reflected on Ann’s lesson many times in the weeks since. I’ve wondered how often I allow one misfortune to color my entire life. How easy it is to focus on what is missing rather than the abundance that surrounds me. And how often I can mistake a current state for a permanent one.

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This Too Shall Pass

Reflectiong on Ann's Score of 10 reminded me of a similar practice with groups I facilitated.

Over seven years, I led a group of twenty leaders from across our Indiana community. Participants came from for-profit companies, nonprofits, and higher education.

At each meeting, we checked in using a simple system. Each person rated their overall life—personal and professional—on a scale of 1 to 5. Then they shared an image or metaphor to describe their current state.

As we tracked results over six-month programs, patterns emerged.

No one “flatlined.” No one stayed the same.

Those riding high at a 5 in October might drop to a 3 the next month. Others who scored low would rise by two or three points within weeks.

A promotion might bring elation one month, followed by a child’s illness the next. A failing marriage might give way to renewal. New love might be followed by grief.

Across these stories, one truth became clear:

Everyone experiences both highs and lows.

There are no “golden” lives that are always perfect. And there are no lives devoid of good.

The pattern was unmistakable. The highs don’t last. But neither do the lows.

There may be plateaus—periods of relative stability—but even those shift over time.

Life is not static. It is fluid.

“This too shall pass” became more than a cliché. It became a lived reality.

When someone shared a low score, the group would gently remind them: " This too shall pass.”

When someone shared a high score, we would pause to celebrate—and remind ourselves of the same truth, that this too shall pass.

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Weather the Hard Times — They Will Not Last

There is a quiet hope in recognizing that difficult seasons are not permanent.

Some challenges resolve quickly. Others linger. But life moves.

Circumstances shift. Healing happens. New opportunities emerge.

You endure hardship and often emerge stronger—changed, perhaps scarred, but wiser. Grief softens. Panic settles. Clarity returns.

A job loss becomes a turning point.

A breakup becomes a foundation for independence.

Darkness gives way, slowly, to light.

This doesn’t mean we welcome hardship. But we can acknowledge two truths:

• No one is immune to difficulty.

• Nothing lasts forever.

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Appreciate the Good Times — They Will Not Last

One of my deepest realizations was this: The good times are also temporary.

Too often, I fail to pause and fully experience the richness of my life.

Sometimes I assume I’ve “arrived,” as though today’s joys will remain unchanged. Other times, I’m too focused on what’s next to notice what’s here.

But pausing—truly noticing—amplifies joy. Attention deepens experience. What we appreciate expands.

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Your Frame Determines Your Score

Ann’s life score of 10 alongside a health score of 3 revealed something profound:

Our framing shapes our experience.

You can have a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day (with a nod to Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day). And still, your broader life can be meaningful and good.

Both can be true. This is the paradox of perspective.

I’m reminded of this every time I fly. Inside the plane: cramped seats, crowded aisles, mild irritation. Outside the window: vast sky, endless clouds, breathtaking beauty.

Annoyance and awe—existing simultaneously.

Where we look determines what we see.

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With Movement Comes Possibility

Even when life feels still, everything is in motion. Even rocks—seemingly solid and unmoving—are composed of atoms in constant motion.

Some changes happen quickly. Others take years. But nothing is truly static.

This truth holds power. Because if everything is in motion, change is always possible.

Small shifts, repeated consistently, create meaningful transformation.

Like compound interest, small daily actions accumulate—positively or negatively—over time.

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Keeping Score Is a Helpful Practice

Both Ann’s story and my leadership groups shared one common element: Intentional reflection.

Keeping score—not as judgment, but as awareness—creates clarity.

What we notice, we can name.

What we name, we can change.

So consider asking yourself:

• On a scale of 1 to 5, where is your life right now?

• What image or metaphor describes your current state?

Pause. Take stock.

If your score is high—celebrate it. Savor it. Remember it will pass.

If it’s mid-range—reflect on what might move it upward.

If it’s low—breathe. Be gentle. And remind yourself:

This too shall pass.

And so, I hope that as you claim your life score today, that no matter if it is a 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5, that you remember it is not forever, merely a moment in time.

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