Honoring the quiet labor of presence

I’ve been thinking about what it feels like to hold space, not just in coaching, but in daily life.

It’s subtle and is easy to miss, like when you pause before offering advice, or when you sit quietly next to someone without needing to fix anything. Or the way your body softens when your dog leans into you and you just… stay.

I call it the Holding Space Muscle.

It’s not something only coaches or therapists use. It’s something we all do, often without realizing it, with friends, family, and with our animals.

When I’m in the studio, working with the flow of the slip and glaze, everything slows down. My hands listen, my breath steadies, I partner with the material, and that’s holding space, too, for my creativity.

And like any muscle, this one needs care; rest, boundaries, nourishment, time away.

Because presence is a form of labor. It’s sacred, invisible, and often unspoken; it deserves recognition and acknowledgement.

Some days, holding space looks like deep conversation; other days, it’s a quiet walk with a friend who is struggling.

I’ve learned that the days that feel most full are usually the ones where I held space for a client, a friend, for my animals, or for myself. And I honor the intention and the effort.

photo by Elizabeth Duvivier