When Imagery Speaks: The Transformative Power of Metaphor in Coaching (and Life)

There’s an old woman who lives inside my mind. Her name is Agnes.

She’s small, hunched over, and pushes a shopping trolley with a red flashing siren strapped to her head. She doesn’t say much, but she is always alert, always scanning. She is my hyper-vigilant saboteur - a part of me that sees danger before I do, and frantically tries to keep me safe.

She also makes terrible decisions.

It was during a coaching session that Agnes first appeared. I had been circling around a familiar set of behaviours: perfectionism, over-preparation, the sense that I could never quite rest. I knew all the stories. I could list the childhood patterns, the reasons, the costs. But something wasn’t shifting. When I paused to feel into the physical sensations - the tension in my chest, the tightness around my eyes - the image came: Agnes, muttering to herself as she pushed her trolley through my brain, siren blaring.

And just like that, something softened. I laughed. I saw her. I understood.

Metaphor bypasses the intellect and lets us meet ourselves more honestly. It invites both hemispheres of the brain into the room: the logical, language-oriented left side, and the image-rich, intuitive right. It lets us stop talking about ourselves and start relating to ourselves - not through judgment, but through curiosity.

And curiosity, I’ve found, is inherently compassionate.

Why Imagery Works

In my coaching practice, I use metaphor and imagery all the time - sometimes overtly, sometimes subtly. Often, a client will describe a feeling: “I feel stuck,” or “something just isn’t moving.” I might ask, “Stuck like what?” And suddenly we’re not talking about vague emotions anymore - we’re in a swamp, or wrapped in clingfilm, or stuck on a roundabout. And from there, new options appear. What helps you get out of a swamp? What does that part of you need? Where’s the exit?

Even a small shift in metaphor can create a shift in energy. Clients straighten in their chairs, breathe more deeply. The stasis begins to soften.

The power of metaphor lies partly in how it speaks to the whole of us. Psychiatrist and writer Iain McGilchrist, in The Master and His Emissary, describes how our two brain hemispheres don’t just process information differently - they relate to the world in fundamentally distinct ways. The left hemisphere focuses on detail, categorisation, language, and control. The right is concerned with connection, context, body, and metaphor. Both are essential - but our culture has leaned heavily on the left.

Metaphor, he writes, is one of the few things that can bridge the hemispheres - inviting the left to let go of control and the right to come forward with its deeper, felt knowing. In doing so, it brings integration: between thought and sensation, reason and intuition, mind and body.

This is echoed in the work of Daniel Siegel, a psychiatrist known for his work on “mindsight” - the ability to sense and make sense of our internal experience. In Siegel’s model, horizontal integration (linking the two hemispheres) is key to resilience and emotional health. When clients access imagery or metaphor - especially ones rooted in physical experience - they are building this kind of integration in real time.

In other words, metaphor isn’t just poetic. It’s neurological.

No Bad Parts

There’s a phrase I return to often in coaching: no bad parts. It comes from Internal Family Systems (IFS), a therapeutic model developed by Dr. Richard Schwartz. IFS sees the psyche as made up of many parts - each with its own voice, function, and motivation. Some are protectors. Others carry burdens from the past. But all, at their core, are trying to help - even if their strategies are outdated or destructive.

Imagery is central to IFS. Often, parts reveal themselves through images - a critic might show up as a teacher with a red pen; a wounded child might hide in a cupboard; a numb protector might feel like a heavy cloak. The work is not to fix or banish these parts, but to relate to them, with compassion and curiosity. To listen. To understand what they need. And gradually, to help them trust that they don’t have to run the show anymore.

This is what happened with Agnes. Once I saw her clearly, I could recognise when she was in the driver’s seat. I could thank her - she was only trying to help, after all - and gently put her in the back seat with a chocolate biscuit, and invite someone else to take the wheel. Imagery helped me build relationship, not resistance. And in doing so, gave me back my agency.

Coaching Through Image and Embodiment

Metaphor works beautifully in coaching - especially when clients are open to working with the body as well as the mind. Sometimes, I’ll invite a client to take on a different perspective quite literally: “What would that plant over there think about this situation?” It might sound odd at first, but more often than not, the client laughs, relaxes, and something fresh emerges. A new insight. A shift in tone. A softening of the grip.

In Co-Active Coaching, metaphor is used as a resource - a way of helping clients access their inner wisdom and look at their life from a different lens. We might explore the client’s “leader within,” or identify allies - parts of self they can call on when they need strength, clarity, compassion, or joy. These inner resources might take on archetypal form: a warrior, a nurturer, an adventurer, a wise elder.

It’s not about pretending. It’s about creating a symbolic vocabulary that feels real enough to be useful. These metaphors aren’t escapes - they are anchoring tools that help clients meet life with more presence, more choice, and more range.

Meeting Skepticism with Curiosity

Not everyone finds this kind of work easy at first - especially clients who are more analytical or left-brain dominant. I don’t force it. During the contracting stage of coaching, I let clients know that we may use imagery, movement, or metaphor - and I always check whether that feels right for them. The goal is never to use a particular tool, but to find what works for that person.

Often, the bridge is found in the body. A client might say, “I feel this pressure in my chest when I think about work.” I’ll ask, “Pressure like what?” And we’re off. A vice. A kettledrum. A heavy coat. Suddenly, we’re in metaphor - not by pushing, but by following the language of the body. From there, we can explore what that pressure is trying to say, what it needs, and what might help it loosen.

Even the most rational client has an imaginal world. They just may need a gentler path into it.

From Curiosity, Everything Grows

Doing this work over time has changed me. It’s opened up a whole new world of curiosity - not just about my own internal experience, but about the richness inside others. Knowing there is this seam of imagery, symbolism, and sensation that we can access - and that it holds insight, not danger - is both humbling and empowering. It reminds me that the answers we seek are rarely “out there.” More often, they’re inside, waiting to be heard in a language we’ve forgotten how to speak.

Imagery has also helped me become kinder to myself. I no longer see my inner saboteur as something to overcome or exile. She’s Agnes, flashing lights and all. And she’s part of the whole. Meeting her with humour, compassion, and understanding has softened my reactions and deepened my trust in my own inner landscape.

This is what metaphor offers. It gives us new eyes - not to avoid what’s difficult, but to see it differently. To hold it with more kindness. To move with it, instead of against it.

Conclusion: Let the Image Speak

You don’t need to be “creative” or “visual” to work with metaphor. You just need to be willing to listen - not just with your mind, but with your body. What does that pressure feel like? That anxiety? That stuckness? What’s it like? Like what?

From there, the image speaks.

And when it does, something in us listens. Something shifts. Something begins to move.