We often talk about the importance of holding space in this work. That it’s often not so much what we do, but how we create the environment where the other person can do what they need to do. With support, with guidance, with instruction if needed.

We talk less about what we are holding in that space. Trauma, yes. Suffering, of course. Optimism and hope, absolutely. But we also hold things that contradict and fight each other. Things that wriggle and resist and refuse to sit still. Things that are heavy and light, pulsing with energy, screaming with rage and stone cold silent.

We hold opposites and truths that cannot coexist and yet here we are, balancing them together. We hold the impossible, the unknown and the things that could never ever change. Until they do.

We need to learn to rest in this space, this place of transformation. And we need to take the time to rest away from it. To recover, to hold nothing, so we are ready to hold the next universe of stories and contradictions.

Sometimes we just don’t have the time, energy or need for deeper work. It can also be good to have rhythms within the work where the pauses and small moments become just as valuable as the big ones.

Perhaps it’s a moment of reconnecting with intention, or with the other person, or with ourselves. Perhaps a moment of lightness or humour, or a moment of faith we’re on a meaningful path. It may be a moment of stepping back and appreciating how far we have come or marvelling at the absurdities of life. Or it just may be a moment to be.

One of the best investments we can ever make is in people. Their role doesn’t matter so much – client, coworker, manager, student – because that changes. But the layer beneath, the more enduring heartbeat of who they are as humans, that’s something. Really something.

The best way to invest isn’t praise, or advice, or advocacy, or even encouragement, even though we may do some or all of those from time to time. It doesn’t come from a place of wise knowing or superiority. We have not been ordained the host at the party making sure everyone is being looked after and we’re not the mother duck shepherding the ducklings across the busy street. Because those roles make us separate, unequal, and ultimately more alone.

Rather, it’s about how we see people and how people feel seen. It’s about paying attention, noticing what people are made of, looking past the immediate situation to discover their hopes, their values and the ways they make a difference.

Perhaps your version is brimming with energy and consensual hugs. Perhaps you’re more aloof, but your succinct insights are remembered for years. Perhaps you share your observations more through actions than words. Perhaps you’re eloquent or goofy, solemn or playful, speaking from the head of the table or from a quiet corner.

And to truly see someone, we also need to allow ourselves to be seen. It’s a two-way process because their capacity to notice and invest and build up the people around them is part of who they are too.

When we enter helping professions, one thing we’re often not ready for is that clients aren’t always ready for us. We’ve worked hard to learn knowledge and techniques only to find they fall flat in the gap between where the person is at and where they could be.

Perhaps they agree there is a problem but aren’t ready for the hard work of making change. Or someone else thinks they have a problem but they’re not sure or don’t think it’s under their control. And it doesn’t help that what we’re suggesting is often the equivalent of telling people to take a pill five or twenty times a day, and that pill is the size of a watermelon, bitter and hard to chew. What we offer usually isn’t fun.

Some workers put this back on the clients – they’re not ready and there’s nothing I can do – or blame them – they’re resistant or non compliant. Some take the responsibility on to themselves – I’m incompetent or need to try harder. Some will blame the system – it’s unrealistic, underfunded or uncaring.

I’m often asked “How long should I hang in there when a client isn’t ready?” My honest answer is “I don’t know”. I never knew. But the best I could offer is “longer than you think and not so long that you create an allergy to helpers”.

We sometimes need to hold the optimism for the other person until they’re able to believe in it themselves. And if it isn’t the right time to make change – and sometimes it just isn’t – we want to give the person an experience of feeling heard, respected and valued so that, if they become more ready in the future, they would be willing to seek help again.