Being Heard
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The phrase holding space seems to have become the new “buzz word” of 2016 with people using it on social media often.
My question is: have they stopped to consider what it really means?
My question is: have they stopped to consider what it really means?
In my opinion, in many cases it is used as a turn of phrase. “I see you're struggling, so I’m holding space for you.” It can be a cop-out; an easy way to get out of actually listening to the person. It’s almost like saying “I’m caring for you at a distance but I don't want to get involved any further.” Is that the intention? It’s possible in many cases, and clear to me that people don’t really have a full grasp of what it means to hold space for someone.
I have been working with the concept of holding space in my Equine Experiential Learning workshops. The particular activity involves 2 participants and one horse. One participant and the horse are responsible for holding space during the exercise, while the other participant speaks their truth out loud to both of them. Their truth might be a success they have experienced or a struggle they have overcome. In doing this activity with approximately 40 people I have identified three ways that the participants hold space. The horse holds space beautifully every time and I will discuss that shortly. The first way is that the person actually holds space really well for the other participant. The person feels supported, nurtured, and heard. I would say this is a rare occurrence; perhaps 2 out of 10 people have a good grasp of holding space. The second response is what I call "disassociation". The person holding space cannot handle the situation so they shut down completely. They stop listening, look away and shift their body position away from the person. They do whatever they have to do to avoid hearing what is being said. This usually happens because what is being said is a painful story. This inevitably leaves the person who is sharing the story feeling abandoned. It is all an effort to protect themselves from the pain of listening to someone else’s difficult story. The third response, I feel happens most often. I call it “going down the rabbit hole.” The person holding space becomes absorbed in the story to the point that they embody the story themselves. They become too emotionally involved asking themselves, “how would I feel if this was happening to me?” or even remembering a time when something just like this happened to them and then reliving that experience. It is also a form of disassociation when this happens because they stop listening and go into their own world thinking about their own problems. These people often offer words later like “you think that is bad, you should hear what happened to me.”
The commonality of the last two scenarios led me to really think about how the horse holds space in this exercise. Because of course, they hold the space beautifully with every participant feeling like the horse listened to them and offered silent support. In thinking about this, I am reminded of an experience I had a few years ago, when I witnessed horses holding space for each other. The beauty and simplicity of it still evokes a sense of genuine unconditional love as I remember those few hours on a cold winter day.
I was boarding my horse at a farm owned by a friend. She ran a riding school and had a large number of horses on her farm. They lived outdoors 24/7 in small herds living as natural a life as possible. I would go up to the farm early in the morning to help my friend do some chores before I rode my horse. That morning was a particularly cold one with a fresh new blanket of snow on the ground. I was filling up the water trough in the Mares’ field and I noticed something I hadn't seen before. There were five horses standing in a semi-circle at the other side of the field. There was one horse on the ground at their feet.
It was not uncommon for the “ladies” to hang out at that end of the field and sometimes stand over one another when they are sleeping for protection, so I didn't think too much of it at first. Then after a minute or two, I felt a rock in the pit of my stomach. The little mare on the ground was rolling and flailing about; getting up and dropping down to the ground quickly in a panic. I dropped the hose and went running. I had seen colic before, but nothing like this. All the things I learned in Pony Club as a kid came rushing back to me. "Don't let them roll," "get them up and on their feet", "get them walking and keep them walking". Unfortunately, when I got to her I didn't have a halter or a lead rope. Thankfully I had my phone. I called my friend and knew she was running before she hung up the phone. I had a few minutes now to wait. All I could offer quietly was that “help is on the way sweet girl”.
I look back now at those few minutes we stood there together. The scene was surprisingly calm. I felt calm, the horses remained in their semicircle watching, listening and holding space. None of the other horses were panicking. Not one of them was calling out or pacing around. No one got down on the ground and started rolling around with her. No one appeared to be analyzing the situation. As far as I could tell, there was no advice being offered. “No!!! You should try this instead”, or “this happened to me once and I did this”. And no one was blaming this little mare saying “you should have drunk more water.” It wasn't a lack of concern I was witnessing, but a lack of judgment of the situation for the little Mare. They all knew what was happening and just stood by offering unconditional support. I realize now that the event defined the epitome of holding space for another being.
My friend arrived a few minutes later and together we took the little Mare from the field to get help. There was no relief on their faces when we did this, no “thank you for doing something about this.” But still they offered support. The five Mares lined up at the gate and watched from a distance. They continued to hold space for the little Mare as we struggled to keep her walking. They held space for myself and my friend as we realized the awful truth of the situation. They held space for the vet who came to do what no vet longs to do. And they held space for the man who eventually came with the truck to pick up the little Mare’s body. The whole time they waited at that gate, offering loving support from a distance without judgment. And when the man and the truck left, the five Mares went back to eating. They did not stand around and discuss what happened; what they could have done, what they should do next time. As far as I could tell, there was no discussion about preventing it from happening again. They went back to eating and being present in the moment.
Those beautiful horses did what horses do best; they held space for a member of their herd. A new member, by the way, she had only been in the field a couple of days. Still a bit of an outsider but she received all the love and support as if she was the lead mare.
The horses taught me the art of holding space that day. As I look back on that experience, the following are the lessons the horses taught me:
Holding space requires practice. Horses are on this earth to balance energy, it comes naturally to them. Mastering this like a horse will not happen immediately. I recently had the opportunity to hold space for someone just the other day. Looking back on it there are things I will do differently next time. For me it is a process. This most recent time, I do, however, remember thinking in the moment; “what would the horses be doing right now”? It definitely prevented me from jumping in as I would have done in the past.
I have been working with the concept of holding space in my Equine Experiential Learning workshops. The particular activity involves 2 participants and one horse. One participant and the horse are responsible for holding space during the exercise, while the other participant speaks their truth out loud to both of them. Their truth might be a success they have experienced or a struggle they have overcome. In doing this activity with approximately 40 people I have identified three ways that the participants hold space. The horse holds space beautifully every time and I will discuss that shortly. The first way is that the person actually holds space really well for the other participant. The person feels supported, nurtured, and heard. I would say this is a rare occurrence; perhaps 2 out of 10 people have a good grasp of holding space. The second response is what I call "disassociation". The person holding space cannot handle the situation so they shut down completely. They stop listening, look away and shift their body position away from the person. They do whatever they have to do to avoid hearing what is being said. This usually happens because what is being said is a painful story. This inevitably leaves the person who is sharing the story feeling abandoned. It is all an effort to protect themselves from the pain of listening to someone else’s difficult story. The third response, I feel happens most often. I call it “going down the rabbit hole.” The person holding space becomes absorbed in the story to the point that they embody the story themselves. They become too emotionally involved asking themselves, “how would I feel if this was happening to me?” or even remembering a time when something just like this happened to them and then reliving that experience. It is also a form of disassociation when this happens because they stop listening and go into their own world thinking about their own problems. These people often offer words later like “you think that is bad, you should hear what happened to me.”
The commonality of the last two scenarios led me to really think about how the horse holds space in this exercise. Because of course, they hold the space beautifully with every participant feeling like the horse listened to them and offered silent support. In thinking about this, I am reminded of an experience I had a few years ago, when I witnessed horses holding space for each other. The beauty and simplicity of it still evokes a sense of genuine unconditional love as I remember those few hours on a cold winter day.
I was boarding my horse at a farm owned by a friend. She ran a riding school and had a large number of horses on her farm. They lived outdoors 24/7 in small herds living as natural a life as possible. I would go up to the farm early in the morning to help my friend do some chores before I rode my horse. That morning was a particularly cold one with a fresh new blanket of snow on the ground. I was filling up the water trough in the Mares’ field and I noticed something I hadn't seen before. There were five horses standing in a semi-circle at the other side of the field. There was one horse on the ground at their feet.
It was not uncommon for the “ladies” to hang out at that end of the field and sometimes stand over one another when they are sleeping for protection, so I didn't think too much of it at first. Then after a minute or two, I felt a rock in the pit of my stomach. The little mare on the ground was rolling and flailing about; getting up and dropping down to the ground quickly in a panic. I dropped the hose and went running. I had seen colic before, but nothing like this. All the things I learned in Pony Club as a kid came rushing back to me. "Don't let them roll," "get them up and on their feet", "get them walking and keep them walking". Unfortunately, when I got to her I didn't have a halter or a lead rope. Thankfully I had my phone. I called my friend and knew she was running before she hung up the phone. I had a few minutes now to wait. All I could offer quietly was that “help is on the way sweet girl”.
I look back now at those few minutes we stood there together. The scene was surprisingly calm. I felt calm, the horses remained in their semicircle watching, listening and holding space. None of the other horses were panicking. Not one of them was calling out or pacing around. No one got down on the ground and started rolling around with her. No one appeared to be analyzing the situation. As far as I could tell, there was no advice being offered. “No!!! You should try this instead”, or “this happened to me once and I did this”. And no one was blaming this little mare saying “you should have drunk more water.” It wasn't a lack of concern I was witnessing, but a lack of judgment of the situation for the little Mare. They all knew what was happening and just stood by offering unconditional support. I realize now that the event defined the epitome of holding space for another being.
My friend arrived a few minutes later and together we took the little Mare from the field to get help. There was no relief on their faces when we did this, no “thank you for doing something about this.” But still they offered support. The five Mares lined up at the gate and watched from a distance. They continued to hold space for the little Mare as we struggled to keep her walking. They held space for myself and my friend as we realized the awful truth of the situation. They held space for the vet who came to do what no vet longs to do. And they held space for the man who eventually came with the truck to pick up the little Mare’s body. The whole time they waited at that gate, offering loving support from a distance without judgment. And when the man and the truck left, the five Mares went back to eating. They did not stand around and discuss what happened; what they could have done, what they should do next time. As far as I could tell, there was no discussion about preventing it from happening again. They went back to eating and being present in the moment.
Those beautiful horses did what horses do best; they held space for a member of their herd. A new member, by the way, she had only been in the field a couple of days. Still a bit of an outsider but she received all the love and support as if she was the lead mare.
The horses taught me the art of holding space that day. As I look back on that experience, the following are the lessons the horses taught me:
- Watch your Body language - soft and relaxed is the key. Tightening up would increase the intensity level of the situation.
- Be grounded - those horses were so grounded I wouldn't have been able to move them if I tried. Their energy was connected to the earth’s core.
- Be present - in the moment, not worrying about what happens next, what should I say, how can I help. They were focused in the now.
- Be conscious of personal space - horses are very aware of their need for personal space as well as other beings’ need for it. They did not crowd the little Mare nor crowd each other. They were all a comfortable distance, allowing themselves to be fully present.
- Have compassion, not empathy. Empathy is “going down the rabbit hole” with the person. Embodying the emotions of another. Compassion is witnessing another’s pain and offering them love and support.
- Be connected - they had a connection with each other and the little Mare through their hearts with unconditional love.
- Hold no judgment - there was no judgment of the situation or any of the players involved, only love and support.
- Listen quietly - interrupting and asking questions breaks the momentum and takes power away from the person having the moment.
Holding space requires practice. Horses are on this earth to balance energy, it comes naturally to them. Mastering this like a horse will not happen immediately. I recently had the opportunity to hold space for someone just the other day. Looking back on it there are things I will do differently next time. For me it is a process. This most recent time, I do, however, remember thinking in the moment; “what would the horses be doing right now”? It definitely prevented me from jumping in as I would have done in the past.
Give yourself a break.
Don't offer the words "I'm holding space for you" unless you're actually prepared to do it.
We are all human.
Just think of the horses.
Don't offer the words "I'm holding space for you" unless you're actually prepared to do it.
We are all human.
Just think of the horses.
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Victoria Sambleson Bio For as long as she can remember, Victoria has had a love of horses. After sitting on a horse at a birthday party when she was 8, her Grandparents had to abandon their dream of her being a Ballerina and buy her a pair of riding boots. She started riding at the age of 10 and always had horses in her thoughts and dreams. After achieving a Bachelor of Arts Degree from the University of Western Ontario, she spent 10 years working in the corporate environment as a Project Manager. Although Victoria was fulfilled in her corporate career, she felt a strong pull towards change. In 2002 Victoria left the corporate world to become a Registered Massage Therapist and began her own very successful private practice. As well as teaching massage at Sutherland-Chan Massage School, she also teaches continuing education workshops for RMTs all over the world. Victoria had discovered a new career she loved, however, along with running and managing her own business, the emotional and physical challenges of her patients at times became overwhelming. As a result, Victoria sought the help of her childhood friends... horses. She reconnected with these wonderful beings and found a new way to restore balance in her life. This began a wonderful journey of self-discovery, personal growth and Well-Being. In 2015, Victoria became a certified Facilitator of Equine Experiential Learning. Her goal is to evolve this powerful relationship between horses and humans and honour the wisdom of the Horse. Victoria can be contacted through www.connectingwithhorses.ca |