Holding...Space
Hollowing your bones in service of something bigger
Hello friends,
Hello from Los Angeles which is, again, smoldering. Not from wildfires we can’t control, but from authoritarianism that we also cannot seem to control though which we refuse to let control us. But we can march. But we can raise our voices. But we can vote. But we can sail to break a siege. But we can grieve and remember. But we can continue loving each other deeply across differences that they try to demonize.
At the very least, and importantly, we can hold space.
Can you hold space?
I admit that since I had a baby two years ago I have gotten better at dissociating from hard things in the world. Partly out of lack of brain and energetic capacity, and partly out of deep, primal self-preservation. How can I keep this tiny human alive if I fall apart?
I feel guilty about this as people often do. I have many journalist and direct service friends who have no choice but to be in the fray. Raising my tiny human with core values of respect, openness, and resilience is something I’m trying to do on my end.
It’s been a month or three! I’ve been publishing Birdseed less than I’d like or hope to and I apologize if that’s annoying or disappointing to you. Likely you haven’t noticed at all? I am writing and crafting 24/7, thinking about Birdseed things too, but I cannot bear to simply hit publish when things are not aligned.
They haven’t been aligned, but I do know they are aligning now. I’m in that sweet spot of having just returned home after 2+ weeks away. THAT feeling. Isn’t that feeling so good? It always fades, but you can always get it back by leaving and returning again. Renewable resource of “ahhhhhhhhhh” [sigh of relief / gratitude]
Yeah, but back to all the crazy shit that’s happening in the world these days (not to mention in *your own* complex life).
Can you just hold space for it? In any way, shape, or form?
“Can you hold space” could be a koan but it’s also an earnest social / emotional question these days. Especially in the silly wonderful place of LA and especially if you’re a yoga teacher or fancy yourself a healer of any sort.
In some ways, of course you can— anyone can. By virtue of living and breathing, and taking up space, you can hold it. Every human beings holds some space until their final breath.
But I mean can you really hold it, spaciously and with intention, for another or yourself? Does this question puzzle, tickle, or annoy you? Do you know what I mean? Have you felt that from another, or been able to offer it?
The always genius Amy Sedaris:
“Holding space for you to fill the space.” LOL but also yessssss.
I think about this idea of holding space a lot. It’s intangible but deeply perceptible. Youknow when you haven’t experienced it and you know when you have.
Silence is underrated, as is spaciousness. It’s the most basic and powerful thing we crave and can offer to each other. Presence, witness.
I taught a mindful leadership course many years ago where I asked participants to pair off and engage in a simple but radical listening exercise. One person shared according to a prompt, and the other would simply listen — focusing on saying nothing at all. Then they would switch. But not before many, many minutes elapsed offering the sharer the spaciousness to continue reflecting and sharing at their own pace, without the potential of the other responding and without the pressure to wrap it up in neat conclusion.
It blew peoples’ minds because it felt so damn good — and rare. To feel fully listened to enables you space to explore and share — and listen to yourself — in ways that surprise you. A pause… and then another thought that might have otherwise been stymied had the listener jumped in.
Contrary to what I’ve found most people think, “active listening” is not about jumping with “mm hmms” and “oh that happened to me!” or finishing someone’s sentence. Even if your intention is pure and you want them to feel seen, related to, and normalized. Active listening is not sharing a however-relevant story of your own back to them. It is not listening to respond or share.
Active listening, deep listening, is a mindfulness exercise. It’s a meditation. That’s why it’s so tough. It requires self-awareness and the ability to saddle and rein yourself in. It’s a commitment to presence so that you are not only listening to words, but also absorbing tone, body language, what’s not being said, and you are understanding. That requires silence and presence. Active listening is holding space.
You can try some version of this exercise if you’re curious to remind yourself how it feels to have space held for you and vice versa. You might notice, today, how you listen. Don’t be hard on yourself if you find your mind wandering off or you’re interrupting. The intentions are often good and our busy, noisy world conspires against our ability to be present and clear in so many ways. But it’s something you can practice at, and there’s so much virtue to it — for you and for the person to whom you’re offering the space.
In my training as a death and bereavement doula, my teachers have talked about hollowing out your bones and this is a concept I come back to often. Grief can be so large, erratic, and overwhelming that it requires sacred space. Sacred silence, witness, or space doesn’t just happen by accident or without effort. It’s not a mindless lapse in conversation or a brief loss of connection. It’s the opposite times a thousand. It requires intentionality of the holder to create and maintain the space. Holding space is a courageous act. It is a terrifying act. It is a radical act. It is a deeply kind act. It is an offering.
When the enormity of the grief of the world is so much, what the hell do we do? How can we even conceptualize what is happening to the people of Gaza? To the babies and children there? They are so hungry and scared. Holding space isn’t any “better” than raging, or weeping, or posting, but it is something. There is a deep affirmation of dignity when we hold space for another’s presence and suffering. What does it do to shift from being a passive witness of devastation to an active witness of it?
Holding space is a magical skill that we can (and should) all cultivate. It is magical in the sense that it is holy, sacred. The second step on the Eightfold Path is right intention. If you’ve been following along on our Path journey, you’ll recall this is about allowing someone space to be themselves, without foisting your projected story onto them (you’re so cool, or you suck!). Holding space does just this.
I was as an abortion counselor almost 20 years ago when I first learned to hold space. Sometimes you learn to hold something new and heavy only when it gets foisted into your hands and you’re like, “OK, I got this.”
Sometimes the person sitting in front of me was shame-stricken, tormented, and sad. Sometimes the person sitting in front of me was annoyed and distracted. Sometimes the person sitting in front of me was calm and open. I could not assume what it meant or felt like for them to get an abortion on that day, or the many factors that conspired to bring them in front of me. It wasn’t my place to do that anyway. My place was to be steady: warm, open, accurate, helpful, and a good listener.
The fact is holding space is sacred but so simple. You can be a hollow-boned accountant. Or grocery store check-out person. Or a hollow-boned unemployed person. It doesn’t matter who you are and what your story or experience is, you can sit in it and arrange the pieces just so in order to notice and witness those and the world around you.
Holding space is an art and a science. Something that can be practiced, like meditation. Something we won’t always get “just right” but whose virtue of attempting is still so strong.
The longer we live, the more we go through hard things. The longer we live, the more we witness losses around us - those close to us and in the world. Hopefully, this softens and deepens us though sometimes it also hardens us. Nothing is permanent.
Clearing and holding space is a skill that time begins to make more accessible. It is the ultimate gift and you have the capacity in your possession right now. How beautiful. How exciting.
