The Space We Hold

How to Hold Space Without Rushing to Fix

This week, during my meditation teacher certification, I sat across from someone I knew. We were in a virtual breakout room, looking at each other through our screens, about to begin an exercise that sounded simple. We took turns guiding each other into our hearts, then shared the words we had longed to say to someone, the words we had longed to hear, and what we most wanted to feel.

Within minutes, we were sharing experiences and emotions that would ordinarily take months, often years, to reveal to another person. There were tears, long silences, and moments of forgiveness. I felt deeply grateful for the woman on the other side of the screen, for her willingness to be vulnerable, and for the trust that formed between two people who knew so little about each other’s lives.

What stayed with me afterward was how little either of us had needed to do.

We weren’t trying to solve each other’s problems. We weren’t offering advice or searching for the right words to make something better. We were listening, allowing, and being present with whatever arose.

The Habit of Helping

I have spent much of my life being someone who helps. As a mother, grandmother, friend, and leader, I have often been the person others turned to when something needed attention. For many years, my role was to deliver results and keep things moving. There was always something to assess, improve, correct, or move forward.

Those responsibilities taught me a great deal. They also reinforced a familiar habit: when I recognized a problem, my instinct was to do something about it.

I remember reviewing a report prepared by a team member and making the corrections myself rather than returning it for further work. In the moment, it seemed practical. I could make the changes quickly, ensure the quality of the document, and move on to the next priority. There were deadlines to meet and clients waiting.

Looking back, I see what my efficiency cost. By stepping in, I took away someone else’s chance to work through the problem, to find their own way to a better version, and to trust their own judgment the next time. I held on to something another person was ready to carry with the right guidance.

I didn’t recognize it that way at the time. I thought I was being helpful.

Whose Discomfort We Are Managing

Our desire to help often becomes intertwined with our own need to manage an outcome.

At times we intervene because someone needs our assistance. Other times, we step in because watching another person struggle is uncomfortable. We want to reduce the uncertainty, remove the frustration, or bring the situation to a close. We believe that if we have the knowledge or ability to make something easier, we should.

Yet there is a difference between supporting someone and taking over their experience.

When someone shares something difficult with me, my first responsibility is to understand what they are experiencing. That requires a kind of attention we lose easily when we are busy formulating our response.

Have you ever noticed how quickly your mind begins working when someone tells you about a problem? Before they finish speaking, you are already considering what they should do, recalling a similar experience, or thinking about the advice that helped you. You care about the person in front of you, yet part of your attention has already moved away from them.

I recognize that tendency in myself.

During our certification exercise, I was reminded that another person’s emotions do not require me to intervene simply because they are uncomfortable to witness. Someone can be sad, angry, uncertain, or overwhelmed, and I can remain with them without needing to change how they feel. There is compassion in allowing another person to be exactly where they are.

What a Good Teacher Knows

During our certification session, davidji spoke about presence in teaching. We prepare our material, understand the practices, and know what we intend to share. Yet the person in front of us often needs something different from what we anticipated, and we have to stay attentive enough to recognize it.

A good teacher understands this. They guide without rushing to fix a mistake or fill a silence. They ask a question and wait. They let the student stay with the difficulty long enough to find a way through it. That patience carries a message no instruction delivers as well: I trust you to get there.

This is what holding space gives another person. Presence leaves the experience in their hands, along with the capacity to work through it. Rushing in, even with the kindest intentions, takes both away.

The same holds well beyond meditation. A leader arrives with a prepared agenda and discovers the team needs a different conversation. A parent approaches a difficult moment with a plan and realizes the child needs to be heard first. A friend offers thoughtful advice and misses the simple fact that the person sharing their experience wanted someone to listen.

Our knowledge and experience remain valuable. They do not replace attention to the human being in front of us.

The Courage to Stay

We often associate courage with action: speaking up, making difficult decisions, taking responsibility when circumstances demand it. Those expressions of courage matter. Another kind receives less attention: the willingness to remain present when we cannot control what happens next.

In leadership, it means letting someone work through a difficult decision instead of providing the answer. In friendship, it means listening to someone’s disappointment without hurrying to make them feel better. In parenting, it means acknowledging a child’s anger while staying clear about what behaviour is acceptable.

Holding space leaves room for responsibility and clear boundaries. The skill lies in recognizing when someone needs our intervention and when they need our presence.

My meditation practice has made me more familiar with what happens inside me in those moments. I notice the impulse to correct, defend, explain, or take control. I recognize when my own discomfort is shaping how I respond. And in that small space between noticing and acting, I often discover there is nothing I need to do right away.

That space has become increasingly important to me.

Received With Compassion

I think about the woman who sat across from me during that exercise. I remember the emotion in our voices, the silences between our words, and the ease with which two strangers shared something deeply personal.

Neither of us needed the other to have an answer.

We simply needed to know that whatever we shared would be received with compassion.

There are moments when allowing someone the space to be themselves is already enough.

---

The Clarity Mindset, available now
A book for individuals navigating high-demand lives who want to trust their judgment again, especially when the pressure is high.→ Get the book on Amazon

The Clarity Toolkit
Six practical tools for overthinking, perfectionism, boundaries, capacity, urgency, and stress. You’ll also receive The Clarity Brief, my Wednesday newsletter.
→ Get the Toolkit

Work with me
I coach individuals and teams navigating high-demand lives, one-on-one and through workshops. A Sounding Board Call is a conversation where you do the thinking and I hold the space. By the end, we’ll both know whether working together is the right fit.
→ Book a Sounding Board Call