Safe container

I had a moment of grief. Right before that, I had an extended moment of regret. A longing to go back to something, but I stopped myself from acting on it and let it simmer.

I went outside the next day with a destination in mind, only to feel my gut pulling me elsewhere. So I let it. I missed the bus stop I had originally planned to get off at and stayed for a few stops longer. Got off and started walking towards an area that I consider to be “of the past.” Meandered until I stopped in the middle of a random street under a beautiful tree.

Tears gathered in my eyes. Grief arrived and passed through me, with it went the regret and longing to return.

Who knew that letting go of an old version of self would take this long. That grief would come in ripples, often at times when I’m feeling steady. I’m writing to remind myself that I can trust my own judgement even if it came with loss.

Trust that you know who and what sorts of environments you need to support your transformation and expansion. Even if it means that you must be alone for a while. Even if you must float around as you expand. You might meet your past over and over again, until every nerve and inch in your body stops choosing familiarity.

A remnant of my old self believes this to be cold. It is not. In these tender periods, we need a mixture of people and environments that can support us. We need the besties and siblings who love us regardless of who, how, or what we want to be. We need people who can sit with the discomfort of our change and uncertainty without making it about themselves — people who can keep their center and be okay without it anchored to us for a while.

We also need people that can support us in a way people who know us too well, cannot. Sometimes, the best support we can receive is from someone who has space to meet the half-formed, shapeshifting, new version of us without too much preconditioning.

We need relationships and spaces that are safe containers for our expansion — not pulling us towards contraction, nor boundaryless amplifiers of the expansion.

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What does it mean to create a safe container?

I’ve been thinking about what it means to create a safe container as a breathwork facilitator. One thing that stuck with me from my teacher training was a chapter on power dynamics and the practice of giving power back to participants. I’ve been thinking about it since, beyond the facilitator-participant dynamic. It is too easy to fall into savior-guru mode with this line of offering, and it is not only on the facilitator to stop it from happening.

We like to believe that we do certain things to help when in fact, we really just enjoy being the savior — the one who held another’s hands and lifted them up from their knees. Regardless of whether it comes from a place of genuine care and compassion, this is participation in a power dynamic.

The part of us who identifies with helplessness will enjoy being lifted, especially those of us who’ve never received the kind of care we needed. When we feel seen by someone and they give us what we need without us being aware of the need, it can literally feel like they’ve given us access to a part of us we had lost. We will happily give away our power. I have lost count of the amount of times I thought I was simply expressing gratitude towards someone, but underneath the gesture I was pushing a burden onto them without consent.

The access is the gift. The trust and connection between giver (for lack of a better term) and receiver is what made it possible. The space between the giver and receiver is the safe container, not the giver themselves.

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How to tell if you’re in a power dynamic?

A power imbalance is felt when something changes in the connection. You’ve felt it before. That friend who always said yes pushes back. The partner who chased to close the gap between you stops. Your children not needing you the way they used to.

When we sense the shift, our knee-jerk reaction might be to cling to how things were before accepting the change and adapting. The most selfish thing you can do might feel like the most caring thing in the moment. I’m saying this as someone who has played the fixer/caregiver/protector role even though I was totally unqualified to, more often than I’d like to admit.

Have you ever tried protecting someone from “making a mistake” or regret? Gotten too invested in steering someone’s growth journey? When you do so, you’re essentially saying to the person:

I don’t trust you.

And depending on the context, you might even be saying:

You don’t know what’s best for you, I do.

This is care coming from a place of fear. We’re projecting our own fear of the consequences. There’s also a part of us that fears losing our position and the anchoring that comes from each party playing a role they feel safe in. It’s codependent behavior.

To witness growth means accepting whatever form it might take. To allow for growth means letting the person stumble and take the “wrong” turns. They’re only “wrong” because they don’t align with the truths of your imagination.

It’s on everyone to practice taking our power back when we’re ready to, and giving it back to others whenever appropriate. We participate in power dynamics on a daily basis. I don’t believe we can live without them. Maybe we’re not meant to. Maybe part of relationships is to hold the power for someone until they’re ready to take it back. And the kindest thing we can do is to acknowledge when they don’t need us anymore, then quietly step away.

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I used to believe the best teachers take themselves out of the equation as much as possible, and they do. But there’s a difference between a teacher who is able to adjust their presence from an authentic place versus a teacher who doesn’t know who they are and therefore are either invisible or overly present. Having control over presence is a sign of security and authenticity.

I’ve met many teachers over the last 2 years — some directly, others don’t know me. The teachers I tend to resonate with are usually unapologetically themselves and can somehow create the shape and size of a safe container that fits me snugly. They root for you to surpass them. They encourage you to find your authenticity. The best gift you can give to these teachers is to stop needing their guidance one day. These are the teachers who enjoy teaching more than the title of Teacher.

How does one recognize a teacher like this? You’ll know by the way they scramble to give your power back when you show any sign of unhealthy dependency. They will not use an authoritarian voice. Sweet or harsh words are replaced with honesty that encourages you to grow and be in control. They shine a light on your potential and make space for you to reach for it. They most definitely don’t stand in the spotlight on the pedestal, enjoy it, and make you work for their validation.