Last year, we held one of our Illuminator Trainings—part of the Dragontree Life Coaching Program—at our home. And while our physical space was warm and welcoming, what made the experience so transformative was the energetic space we created together.

It wasn’t about the room. It was about the field of awareness we all stepped into—a space where people felt safe to be seen, to soften, to heal, and to connect in truth. That’s what I mean by holding space.

Each time I witness the depth of transformation that happens in those few days, I’m reminded of how profound this practice is. And I feel both proud and humbled to be part of it.

(If this kind of work speaks to you, we’re currently accepting enrollment for the next round of Illuminator Training.)

I’ll admit that when I first heard the phrase “hold space,” it sounded like vague spiritual jargon. I didn’t take it seriously—until one particular moment cracked something open for me.

I was in my twenties, at a large dance gathering where the film Baraka was being projected on the walls. The imagery was beautiful, sometimes intense—and at one point, deeply unsettling. There was a sequence showing the mistreatment of animals in industrial settings. As the crowd collectively reacted—some gasped, others turned away—someone called out, “Breathe! Hold space for it!”

I remember thinking, What does that even mean?
But now I know. And I think it was wise advice—not just to hold space for the animals, but for all beings involved. For the pain. For the awakening. For the impulse to turn away.

So what does it mean to hold space?

Holding space has a few meanings for me. First, it means to become a neutral, benevolent container for what’s happening. That is, hold this moment in your awareness – ideally until some resolution or balance has developed. This entails giving your attention to what’s happening right here, right now and supporting its natural unfoldment. 

When we’re holding space, we’re not trying to diagnose, fix anything, or come up with the answer. We’re not trying to be impressive or spiritual, and we’re not hoping to get approval. And we’re not departing from the task at hand to meander into the forest of our own thoughts.

Second, holding space means focusing on and prioritizing the space itself. By space here, I mean the formless consciousness that is the Universe – the matrix from which all objects (things, feelings, ideas) arise. You could also call it God or Undifferentiated Awareness or Spirit. It’s the bulk of the iceberg, while the stuff that tends to get 99.9% of our attention is the very tip. Because space is more ethereal than form, it not only surrounds everything, but also exists within everything. 

When we happen upon a moment in space, it usually feels very good – our stories fall away and we expand into that space (because we are the space!). But the ego doesn’t like it. “Hey! Don’t forget about me!” it yells. “Come back! I’ve got some juicy gossip and some intense fears and a long list of grievances with the world!” 

It seems crazy to go back to that – a reality marked largely by conflict and resistance – but we all do. The ego is hooked up to our survival mechanisms and it’s able to produce some compelling thoughts and feelings which shrink our consciousness like a turtle pulling into its shell. “It’s smelly and dark and crowded in here,” some part of us registers, “but it’s familiar.”

So, to get back to what I was saying, holding space in the second sense means maintaining the space – staying expanded, bringing in and honoring Spirit – and abstaining from the compulsion to fill it up with your stuff. 

In that moment during the film, holding space would have meant staying present with all the layers being stirred—from the sorrow of witnessing suffering, to the uncomfortable awareness of how easily we can become complicit in systems we don’t often think about. But there are opportunities for space-holding all the time, and I see the magic of it so clearly at these Illuminator training – the magic of a whole room of coaches holding space for one individual to see themselves, heal, and blossom. 

Holding space isn’t just for a formal coach-client or healer-patient setting, it’s a practice by which the mundane becomes holy, and we can do it all the time. At first, and sometimes later, it can feel like hard work. It takes discipline to stop thinking and hold your attention on the Now. It takes trust to not intervene or analyze. But it’s deeply rewarding. 

When you hold space for someone, even if they don’t know what you’re doing, they tend to experience that spaciousness. There’s more space between their thoughts. There’s a broadening of perspective. They begin to open and heal. Your space-holding is like a bridge that helps them access their higher Self. 

You can hold space for anything, for any and every moment. Things that are naturally riveting – like a baby being born – can be easier to hold space for because they’re so uncommon and so obviously miraculous. However, there’s much to be learned and experienced through holding space for the “everyday” – for the blowing of a tree in the breeze, for the dripping of a water faucet, for the barking of a dog. 

Let’s both hold space for whatever is happening right now for the next thirty seconds. 

Mmmm. That was good. It reminded me of something I wanted to tell you: thinking is optional. I know we all have times when we can’t seem to turn off our mind, but just as you can stop talking aloud, you can stop talking inside. It’s an expression of reverence for the space to take a break from talking once in a while. 

Be well,

Peter