Holding Space as Practice: Where Yoga Meets Real Life

We see it everywhere—someone shares something deeply painful, whether it’s a child speaking to a parent, a partner opening up, or a friend reaching out—and the listener immediately moves into “fix it” mode. Advice is offered, solutions are proposed, and the moment quietly shifts away from what was actually needed: to be heard.

But staying present with another person’s emotions is not as simple as it sounds. To truly listen, our bodies and minds have to be steady enough to hold discomfort without trying to escape it. Silence, in these moments, is not passive—it’s an active, disciplined choice.

What often goes unrecognized is that the person receiving the emotional share is also experiencing discomfort. When someone we love is hurting, it stirs something in us. The urge to fix isn’t just about helping them—it’s also about relieving our own unease.

From a yoga perspective, this makes perfect sense. We are not fragmented beings. Body, mind, and emotions are deeply interconnected. When one is activated, the others respond. To show up fully for someone else, we must also be aware of what is happening within ourselves. Holding space, then, becomes a dual practice: being present for another while remaining grounded in our own experience.

Recently, I was given an opportunity to live this in real time.

Someone very close to me in my professional life—my right hand—suddenly resigned. My initial reaction was immediate and familiar: I assumed it was my fault. A wave of old emotional patterns resurfaced, ones I’ve worked through many times before.

This wasn’t new terrain for me, but it was still challenging.

As I moved through those emotions, something shifted. Instead of staying caught in my own reaction, I made the decision to step outside of it and hold space for her. I focused on the relationship we had built—the friendship, the care, the mutual respect that defined our work together.

In the time between receiving her email, responding, reflecting, and responding again, I saw something more clearly: it hadn’t come out of the blue.

There had been signs—small children at home, the stress of buying and renovating a foreclosed house, an elderly family member who was ill. All of it was there. I had heard it, but I hadn’t truly listened.

With that awareness, my response changed.

I accepted her resignation with understanding. I expressed gratitude for what we had built together. And I also acknowledged something unexpected—that her decision gave me a gift. It invited me to slow down, both in my business and in my life. It reminded me to step back and create the mental, physical, and emotional space where real clarity and wisdom can emerge.

This experience became a practice in embodiment—feeling my own emotions fully, while also listening deeply to hers, both what was said and what remained unspoken.

Her response is something I will carry with me. She thanked me for the grace and loving kindness with which I handled the situation. She shared that she had been going through a very dark time mentally.

And in that moment, it became clear: this is what it means to hold space.

Not fixing.
Not reacting.
Not making it about ourselves, because it may not be!

But listening—fully, openly, and with the willingness to sit in discomfort.

Conclusion

Whether in our personal relationships or professional lives, the practice is the same. We cannot truly hold space for others if we are unwilling to hold space for ourselves. The work is internal as much as it is relational.