An Invitation to Hold Space
- Richard Josey
- Jul 21
- 3 min read
What if we started asking ourselves something different every time we step into a meeting, open a conversation, or walk into a room?
“How can I hold space so others feel safe enough to share openly?”
Most of us do not usually start there. We show up thinking about what needs to get done or what meeting is next. In some cases, we worry about how we will come across. We assume that people will figure out how to connect on their own. And many of us skip the softer moments like pauses, check-ins, or grounding because they feel awkward or unproductive.
But those habits often leave our gatherings feeling rushed, distant, or shallow. They create rooms where people protect themselves instead of opening up. If we want spaces where trust and connection can grow, we may need to let go of some of the ways we have been conditioned to lead and interact. That might mean slowing down instead of jumping straight into the agenda. It might mean recognizing that being “professional” does not have to mean being distant or guarded. It might mean offering more intentional openings so people do not have to fight for space to speak. It might even mean accepting that speed and efficiency are not always what a room needs, especially when honesty or discomfort starts to surface.
The truth is, most people are carrying more than anyone can see. Loneliness and isolation are everywhere. Old wounds and unprocessed grief shape how we show up and sometimes how we hide. Many people are navigating the relief and challenge of a new neurodivergent diagnosis, trying to exist in spaces not built with their needs in mind.
In times like these, connection cannot just mean being in the same room or getting through a list of tasks. I’ve seen people connect more in intentionally designddigned virtual meetings than in the typical in-person meetings. It has to start with how we hold space, how we make it easier for people to exhale, settle in, and feel like they belong enough to share at their own pace.
What It Means to Hold Space
Holding space is not about fixing anyone or making everything comfortable. It is about creating the kind of container where people can trust the process enough to be real. That can look like:
Starting gently – taking a moment to pause, check in, or ground together before diving in.
Begin a meeting with a simple “How is everyone arriving today?” check-in.
Take 60 seconds for everyone to breathe together or reflect quietly before starting.
Giving choices – letting people talk, listen, write, or just be present without pressure.
Invite people to respond verbally or jot their thoughts in the chat or on paper.
Allow participants to choose if they want to contribute live or send reflections afterward.
Showing our own humanity – leaders and facilitators going first so others know it is safe.
Share a personal reflection or challenge you are navigating before asking others to share.
Admit when you do not have all the answers, modeling openness and honesty.
Allowance for mistakes and missteps – recognizing that errors and awkward moments are part of learning and connection, while still leaving room for accountability when patterns emerge.
If someone says something clumsy or missteps, pause to clarify and keep the conversation moving instead of shutting things down.
Frame feedback as growth, saying, “We are figuring this out together, and it is okay to adjust as we go.”
Rethinking success – not getting everyone to share deeply, but making sure everyone feels like they could if they wanted to.
End by asking, “Does everyone feel like they had the option to share in a way that worked for them?”
Celebrate small signs of trust, like when someone feels safe enough to ask for help or speak up for the first time.
When we hold space like this, things shift. People soften. They open up. They share ideas or truths they have been carrying quietly. And maybe most importantly, they start to feel a little less alone.
That is how we begin building something bigger than just better meetings or warmer conversations. This is how we start shaping a future where connection is not rare or fragile but a shared way of being. A future where people walk into rooms not bracing themselves, but breathing easier because they know they belong.
The invitation is simple: start holding space in a way that builds the kind of future we all want to live in. A future where being human feels safe enough to truly matter.
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