Holding Space, Part 1
A winter storm pattern has settled in over Northern Nevada. Ice and snow cover the roads while a frigid wind drives more winter clouds and more snow across the high desert steppe. I wanted to take a walk yesterday with my pup— to enjoy the winter holiday and to get some much-needed fresh air — but the winter conditions made that impossible.
I woke this morning again to find the world a winter white: highways are closed in every cardinal direction, with a 20-car pileup to the South. These are the days for staying at home, snuggling in a warm fuzzy blanket with a cup of coffee next to the fire. And that’s exactly where I am, with my notebook for longhand writing to my right and my keyboard on my lap as I sit in this space and think about a concept fundamental to Soul-Based Coaching: Holding Space.
Although I had this topic planned out, I wasn’t going to write about it just yet. However, on day two of being stuck inside I knew I needed to write about Holding Space when the weather is like this because I get “itchy” knowing that I can’t go outside and run, walk, jump, roller skate, and otherwise escape the sense that I’m not doing enough. (Which is interesting, right? Who says we have to “do” to “be”? And perhaps that, too, is another topic for another time.)
I feel the itchiness like a halted sneeze inside of my body and I have the desire to jump in place or cry or scream or make another cup of coffee, to keep myself busy enough that I don’t have to think or feel. Instead of doing any of that, though, I breathe deeply into the moment and concentrate on settling down into the chair that holds my body, and positioning my feet so that they are flat on the floor.
I envision both the chair and the floor supporting me, and I start to imagine that there are roots growing from the bottoms of my feet into the earth, where they are met by roots that are growing upward to meet me. In settling in on this image, I become grounded and feel secure and still in my space.
From here, with my deep and steady breaths, I can begin the process of Holding Space for myself.
What is Holding Space?
While there are many ways to answer this question, I will begin with the simplest definition: to hold space is to create both a physical and conceptual container in which something can happen. Whatever that “something” is can change: whether it is noticing, meditating, perhaps coaching, and working with a client on their desired outcome, Holding Space creates the opportunity (in time, space, and energy) for this “something” to unfold and become what it wants to become.
In my example, above, by meditating on feelings of being grounded, I created a space in which I could explore what was happening for me in my body as the winter storm continued to rage outside. I could notice feelings, thoughts, physical sensations, memories — all of it — within the container of my living room and my grounded body. And by noticing, I could let them unfold, becoming what they themselves wanted to become.
By grounding myself, I am also setting up boundaries — feelings and thoughts can arise, but I won’t — meaning, I will stay and witness whatever comes up and passes for me. In this way, I am providing a healing container for myself simply by being there.
The point is not to “fix” or “achieve” anything per se, but to witness and to hold. This sounds strange, probably, given that we exist in a society in which we want to change and we want to take an active role in that (often using “yang” or masculine energy.)
Holding Space is equally as powerful, but it uses the opposite creative force, the feminine or “yin” energy, which is intuitive, receptive, creative, dark, mysterious, chaotic, quiet and that requires us to slow down.
Dropping Down into the Creative Self
I hold space for myself when I begin a new writing project because it helps me to begin when the very thing I’m writing toward is unknown. Instead of reaching “up” or skyward for inspiration (as if ideas come to us from above), dropping down into the creative well gives me this important sense of grounding.
It also reminds me that the guts of writing — or writing worth reading — come directly from our experience, which happens at the ground level. That is what we see, taste, touch, hear. It’s the life that happens to us, moment by moment. (To be close to the earth is to be humble — something Cheryl Strayed wrote in one of her “Dear Sugar” columns, and I like to keep that in mind, too. Humility is a great friend to any writer.)
Sometimes it helps me to visualize an actual well, like the kind made of stone with a bucket that drops down into the deep center, and where the water is almost too deep to see. Our creativity is deep and full of all sorts of stories, images, ideas just like that well — and who knows how deep it is?
I enter into the well with no expectations other than to discover what resides there today. Sometimes it is a poem about the stars. Other days: I remember when I was fifteen and I tried to combine a running workout for Cross Country with the chore of mowing the lawn when I visited my dad’s house. I discovered two things that day: my dad’s lawnmower had the capacity to run at a 7-minute per mile clip, but I did not have the ability to mow the lawn very well at those speeds.
The creative well often surprises me, but I do not judge what stories or images surfaces from its depths. I do not expect anything, either. One story could be a full-length book. Other times, it’s a fraction of a glimpse. Either way, these are gifts for which I make myself fully present, opening my heart and mind to the possibility contained within each.
Yin Healing, Yin Power
While I could write pages on the power of Holding Space in a coaching setting, I have also witnessed the power of inviting yin energy into my own life as a creator. It’s enticing and perhaps exciting to live life with “yang” energy — controlling, making, doing, managing — after a while, it also becomes exhausting, and keeps us blind to what we can notice when we slow down and pause.
“Yin” is exactly that: receiving the world instead of imposing ourselves upon it. Resting in not-knowing, listening. Dropping down into the creative well.
And then the joy of discovering the unexpected that can unfold when we take the time to Hold Space.
Rebecca A. Eckland, M.F.A., M.A., M.A. is a professional nonfiction writer based in Reno, Nevada. She is also a certified Soul-Based Coach and through her business, With Wings, LLC, she offers entrepreneurs, artists, and all those seeking clarity on their next steps in life and business support on cultivating their creativity and moving forward on their life journeys. Learn more about her, or book a coaching session.
