The Sacred Responsibility of Holding Space: What It Really Takes
After fourteen years of teaching yoga, facilitating countless trainings, and sitting in ceremony with both men and women in deeply vulnerable states, one truth continues to rise above all others:
Holding space is a sacred responsibility—not a performance.
Whether it’s a yoga teacher training, a sister circle, or an ayahuasca retreat, the role of a space holder is not to be the loudest, the wisest, or the most charismatic in the room. It’s to be the safest. The clearest. The most attuned. And that requires a level of awareness, humility, and heart that no certificate can teach.
Here’s what I’ve learned it takes to be a superior space holder:
1. Understanding Consent and the Power Dynamic
When someone steps into your space—especially in states of emotional exposure, plant medicine, or trauma recovery—they are placing immense trust in you. Whether they show it or not, they are nervous systems first, humans second.
This means consent must be a living, breathing part of your facilitation. Not a checkbox. Not a disclaimer. Not a hand wave before a breathwork journey.
We must stay aware of the subtle ways our words, body language, or assumed authority can influence someone’s boundaries. Power, when unacknowledged, becomes dangerous. But when held with integrity, it becomes the very thing that allows others to feel safe enough to let go.
2. Compassion Over Scripts
There’s no magic phrase that makes someone feel seen.
What makes the difference? Presence.
True compassion isn’t performative. It’s not a technique. It’s a willingness to sit with discomfort—yours and theirs—and to feel it, fully. To resist the urge to fix or label, and instead say with your energy: “I’m here. I see you. You’re not alone.”
Compassion isn’t in the mouth. It’s in the heart. And people can feel the difference.
3. Adaptability Over Ego
No matter how meticulously you’ve planned your program, your outline is not the authority—the room is.
Being a great space holder means having the courage to shift the agenda when it doesn’t fit. To read the field. To meet people where they are, not where you wish they were. This requires you to put your ego aside and surrender to the truth of the moment.
The space is not there to make you look good.
It’s there to let others feel safe enough to transform.
4. Honouring Lineage and Source
We are not inventing these practices. We are borrowing them.
Yoga, plant medicine, breathwork, mantra, tantra—all of these come from deep roots, ancient lineages, and cultures that deserve to be respected and named.
To honour these tools is to honour their history—not as a trend, not as a brand—but as a transmission of wisdom passed through bodies, cultures, and time.
When we acknowledge our teachers, their teachers, and the lands these practices came from, we not only preserve integrity—we deepen our own.
5. Energetic Hygiene & Self-Work
You can only hold space for others to the depth you’ve held it for yourself.
That means tending to your own nervous system, your own traumas, your own unmet needs. It means not showing up to serve from depletion, resentment, or codependency masked as care.
Energetic hygiene isn't just about sage and salt baths—it’s about discernment. Knowing when you're projecting. Knowing when something is yours to carry… and when it isn’t.
A powerful space holder does the inner work before the circle begins, and continues doing it long after it ends.
Being a space holder is not about taking the stage. It’s about stewarding it.
It’s not about being the healer. It’s about creating the conditions in which others can heal.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not always graceful. And it certainly isn’t always comfortable.
But it is sacred. And if you’re called to this work, remember:
You are not here to fix. You are here to hold. With reverence, with presence, and help people remember they are their own healer and greatest teacher.
