Holding Space

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In the quiet corners of our lives, where the noise of the world fades into a soft hum, the idea of 'holding space' emerges as a profound act of love and respect. This concept has been on my mind lately, especially as I navigate the delicate balance of being a parent to Salomée, a young woman on the cusp of her own life's milestones.

Holding space is not about filling the air with words, advice, or even wisdom. It's about creating an emotional environment that is so secure and so accepting that the other person can be their most authentic self. It's about being a sanctuary, a place where judgments are suspended, and the soul can breathe freely.

As I ponder my recent conversations with Salomée, I realize that holding space is a dance—a dance of silence and speech, of asking and listening, of knowing when to step forward and when to step back. It's about recognizing that the other person's journey is their own, yet offering a steady hand should they wish to hold it.

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“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, 

but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
—Maya Angelou

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This is a character trait I yearn to cultivate, not just for Salomée but for anyone who crosses my path. It's a way of being that transcends the role of a parent, partner, or friend and enters the realm of universal human connection. It's the embodiment of the belief that we are all interconnected, that my healing is tied to yours, and that in the sacred space between us, transformation can occur.

The journey Glen and I have embarked upon has been transformative, but it hasn't been without its challenges. One of the most poignant struggles we've faced is the difficulty in consistently holding space for each other.

The irony isn't lost on me; here we are, two souls committed to healing and awakening, yet stumbling over this fundamental act of love and respect.

Imagine two lighthouses, each convinced they're shining the brightest, yet somehow managing to blind each other. That has been us more than once.

There were these times when 'thank you for holding space for me' became our sarcastic catchphrase, delivered with all the warmth of a cold cup of herbal tea. Each utterance was tinged with disappointment, a reflection of our mutual struggle to be the emotional sanctuary we each needed.

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"Start with what is right rather than what is acceptable."
—Franz Kafka

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This struggle has been a lesson in humility and a call for deeper self-awareness. It reminds me that the ability to hold space is not just a gift I offer to others; it's also a mirror reflecting the state of my own inner world. It's easy to hold space when the seas are calm, but the true test comes when we're both navigating turbulent waters.

Can I be a lighthouse for someone else when my own light is flickering? Can I listen deeply when my own thoughts are shouting? These are the questions that confront me, challenging me to grow.

And here's the kicker: this comedy of errors has been one of my greatest teachers. It's shown me that holding space is not just about being a wise figure for others—it's about being human and accepting our flaws.

As Glen and I continue on this path, my hope is that we learn to hold space for each other as graciously as we aim to hold it for others. It's a complex dance of giving and receiving, one that we're still learning the steps to. But I believe that as we get better at it, we'll not only strengthen our relationship but also deepen our ability to be a sanctuary for others.

So here's to the messy, beautiful, and sometimes funny journey of learning to hold space. May we all find the grace to laugh at ourselves as we stumble, and the wisdom to pick each other up along the way.