When I started writing fiction a few years ago, I had to relearn what figures of speech were. You remember them: metaphor, simile, hyperbole, euphemism, oxymoron, personification, and the rest. While I could write similes fairly easily, I had to work at the metaphors. Well, let’s be honest, I had to work at all of it. But metaphors took longer to coalesce. Strangely though, in everyday life I notice metaphors a lot. In my psychology work, for example, metaphors can be really powerful.

Recently I saw a man who has had a tough life. He suffered multiple brain injuries, spent years in prison, struggled with some addiction problems. He tried to work, but between the brain injuries and chronic pain, he wasn’t able to keep a job. Not long ago, though, he had a chance to learn a new art form from a friend—making musical instruments. He spent countless hours constructing a guitar. He shaped the wood, designed and carved intricate designs, strung and tuned it. As a surprise for his friend and to show off his accomplishment, he hung the instrument from the ceiling like a tuneful bird in flight. And just before his friend arrived . . . it fell to the ground, smashing into matchsticks.

I could envision the scene perfectly, and it was heartbreaking. I couldn’t help thinking that this experience was a metaphor for his life. He attempted to fashion something new for himself, to give it beauty and purpose, and he watched it crash to the ground before he was even able to show it off. Did he learn and grow from the experience of putting the guitar together? Sure. But didn’t he deserve at least one moment to share his success with someone else?

Life offers many metaphorical moments. Keep your eyes and ears open for them. I’ll keep trying to craft a metaphor as poignant as this man’s story.