On Holding Space for Our Humanness
It was a quick business trip early in my career. I was in the middle seat toward the back of a plane and I was reading a book, The Mermaid Chair. I cannot remember if it was the book or the moment or the trip or something else entirely that triggered the tears, but once they started, I could not get them to stop. You know how it is in the middle seat of a plane – not a lot of privacy – and here I am sobbing but trying to do so silently (have you ever tried to silently sob?) so that I did not make people on either side of me feel uncomfortable. This went on for a bit until, eventually, they both sort of acknowledged it by looking at me and then looking away. As if to say, “I don’t know how to fix this, so I’ll pretend it is not happening.” I was grateful for their discretion, but even more so, I was ashamed of myself for such a public display of, well, humanness.
Years later, I was in a yoga teacher training program and introduced to the concept of “holding space.” A quick Google search will give you a variety of mostly similar definitions, all around the idea of allowing someone the space to be in his/her own journey, even in suffering, without judgment, without trying to fix or comfort. The technique created a powerful, psychologically safe experience for me to move through some intense emotional work during that program. Since then, I have thought often about that middle-seat-crying situation – would I have felt less ashamed if the people next to me tried to hold even just a little space for my sorrow?
We are living during a deeply troubling time, surrounded by suffering that stretches across demographic, socioeconomic, cultural and geographic boundaries. News and social media are flooded with stories of an intensely divided political system, a heightened awareness of racial inequality and an alarming number of people affected by the loneliness epidemic. The focus on re-engineering our lives has been overwhelming since the COVID-19 pandemic. We have dramatically shifted how we shop, work, exercise, parent, eat and socialize. As we continue to establish new routines, practices and norms, especially as it relates to the integration of AI in our daily lives, we ought to consider how we can create the space for people to safely feel whatever feelings show up as part of the process.
So, how does this really look in practice?
When a co-worker makes a mistake, we say things like “oh, no, you’re doing a great job, don’t worry about it.” When a neighbor is laid off from her job, we say “you’ll find another one soon!” When a friend loses a loved one, we say “after my so-and-so passed away, it took me time, but I eventually started feeling better.” And, when someone is crying next to us in the middle seat of a plane while reading a sad story, we say “when I read that book, I cried my eyes out, too.”
But holding space is not fixing or consoling. It is easing the burden of shame that comes the humanness of feeling feelings – fear, grief, anxiety, worry, sadness, loneliness, disappointment, anger, frustration – as we make our way through life’s experiences. With one in every three Americans reporting symptoms of anxiety and depression[1], there are a lot of people who need a little more space right now.
For the co-worker, it might be “I can cover for you if you want to step outside for a few minutes.” For the neighbor, it could be “I’ll drop dinner on your doorstep tonight.” For the friend, it may be “I put a journal in your mailbox in case you feel like writing.”
And, for the person crying in the seat next to you on a plane, perhaps it is the simple act of silently offering her a tissue…
[1] Census Bureau Survey 2020
