In the fast-paced, noise-filled world we live in, something sacred often gets lost: the quiet, luminous presence that lies at the heart of being. The art of holding space—truly holding space—is a call back to this essence. It is the act of being present with another, not as a fixer or solver, but as a light and a witness to their unfolding. This sacred act asks us to reconnect with the depth of who we are and the divine thread that weaves through all life.
To hold space is to offer the fullness of your presence. It’s not about intellectual solutions or applying tools; it’s about embodying a deep spiritual presence that honours the wholeness of another. It’s a meeting of hearts and souls in a shared remembrance of what is eternal and true. In a world that prioritises doing over being, holding space has become an increasingly misunderstood concept. Too often, it is reduced to a professional term, stripped of its sacred roots. The true essence of holding space is not a blank neutrality; it is a luminous act of love and care. It is being the steady light in the room—a light that does not impose but illuminates.
As modernity becomes increasingly secular, we’ve also lost touch with the sacred presence of God, or what might be called the true Self. This absence creates a spiritual vacuum in our collective psyche. We’ve tried to fill this void with achievements, accolades, and ceaseless activity, but the ache remains. To truly hold space for another, we must first hold space for ourselves. This means reconnecting with our own divine essence, the light within that has never dimmed. Without this anchoring in our own being, we risk bringing only half of ourselves to others, masking our emptiness with techniques and methods that cannot touch the deeper layers of human experience. The journey back to this inner light is not always easy, but it is necessary. In finding ourselves, we reconnect with something universal.
To hold space is to be a light. It’s to embody a presence so rooted in love, authenticity, and spiritual connection that others can see their own reflection in it. This kind of presence does not come from books, degrees, or certifications. It arises from the lived experience of knowing and embodying the sacred. Many of us have been conditioned to believe that our value lies in our skills, accomplishments, or the letters after our name. But the most transformative gift we can offer is not what we do; it is who we are. Our presence—pure, attentive, and loving—is the real medicine. When we trust in the light we carry, we begin to see that it is not about what we bring but about simply being.
In the realms of coaching, therapy, and other helping professions, there is a growing tendency to professionalise and formalise practices. While there is value in structure, we must ask: at what cost? As we categorise and commodify, we risk forgetting the spiritual roots of this work. Healing is not a transaction; it is a sacred meeting. The sacred presence is what touches the heart, what transforms, and what reconnects us to the divine. It cannot be learned from a textbook or standardised through methodology. It is a living, breathing essence that arises when we surrender to the flow of life and trust the wisdom of the moment.
How do we return to this sacred presence? It begins with the simplest, yet most profound act: listening. Deep, intuitive listening—to ourselves, to others, and to life itself. This kind of listening is not merely about words; it is about attuning to the essence of what is being communicated beneath the surface. It is about meeting life as it is, in its rawness and beauty. Spending time in stillness and silence, we learn to hear the quiet voice of the divine within. We learn to recognise our own worthiness, not as something earned, but as something innate. From this place of fullness, we can then hold space for others with authenticity and grace.
When we are rooted in our own sacred presence, we become a light for others. We are not the source of their illumination, but a reminder of their own light. Holding space is not about fixing or saving; it is about bearing witness to the divine in another, even when they cannot yet see it in themselves. There is a deep humility in this. It is not about being the hero or the healer, but about being a quiet, steady presence—a candle in the darkness. And in this humility, something extraordinary happens: we touch the infinite.
The work of holding space, of being a light, is not easy. It requires us to show up with all of our humanity, to meet others in their vulnerability while staying rooted in our own. But it is also a profound privilege. In this work, we are not only serving others; we are also serving the divine. To hold space is to embody love in action. It is to trust in the flow of life, to surrender to what is, and to let go of the need to control or fix. It is to recognise that healing and transformation do not come from us but move through us, carried by the same divine force that moves the stars and stirs the tides.
In a world that often feels disconnected from the sacred, we are called to be lights—to hold space, to witness, and to love. This is not a task we undertake alone. As we connect with the divine within, we find that we are supported by something far greater than ourselves. And in this connection, we discover that the light we carry is not ours to create or extinguish; it is eternal. May we honour this light, in ourselves and in others. May we hold space with humility and grace. And may we remember that even in the darkest moments, the light never truly dims.
~ Imogen
