When people here learn that I have spent about half my life in Illinois, the usual reaction is “I bet you do not miss the winters!” To be sure, there is a lot about winter to dread: shoveling the driveway; scraping or chipping ice off the car; wearing bulky clothing; having the hair in one’s nose freeze; skidding on foot or in a car on the ice; etc. However, there is also something magical about winter and especially about the first real snowfall of the year. Blanketed by white, everything looks clean, and, as snowflakes flutter down silently, “the world seems new,” as the Christmas carol goes.
When people here learn that I have spent about half my life in Illinois, the usual reaction is “I bet you do not miss the winters!” To be sure, there is a lot about winter to dread: shoveling the driveway; scraping or chipping ice off the car; wearing bulky clothing; having the hair in one’s nose freeze; skidding on foot or in a car on the ice; etc. However, there is also something magical about winter and especially about the first real snowfall of the year. Blanketed by white, everything looks clean, and, as snowflakes flutter down silently, “the world seems new,” as the Christmas carol goes.
What I miss the most about a good snowfall is the quiet. Birds and mammals are tucked away, and snow absorbs ambient sounds so that in rural areas, particularly, everything just quiets down and there is a certain peace about that that allows one space to reflect. I’ve always liked the quiet, but it is getting harder and harder to find it in a world where people raise their voices to be heard and compete for airtime. One of the things I miss about winter is that quiet that encourages us to listen rather than speak, and to think rather than opine.
I’ve been a part of several conversations lately about “holding space.” With its origins in therapy, holding space means to be present for someone without judgment or distraction. The term has been in common use for about a decade and around a lot longer than that. Those who feel they are always on the outside looking in or those who feel that they have no power often find themselves being ignored in important moments as those with louder or bigger voices dominate conversations.
In a world where so many of us are out in social media also, the cacophony of voices is indeed overwhelming. Some of us long for quiet as the noise begs the question: “Whose voices matter?” Growing up as an only child and spending time with adults, I learned at a very early age to listen. As an introvert, I often hold off on my own words until I hear from others. As a servant leader, I need to listen and hold space for others.
At the university, holding space for our diverse students includes making sure they have the opportunity to learn to use their voices to express what they feel as well as what they think, including their fears and insecurities. On a college campus, each student tends to assume that everyone else knows what is going on and they are the only one who may be lost or confused. Only by creating a safe space can we encourage each student to express those concerns. It is easy for a student to sit silently with their doubts. If they know those doubts are shared by others, however, they will realize that they belong and can indeed succeed on campus and in life. In order for those who are timid to use their voices, however, others need to suppress theirs.
Some argue that holding space may be coddling a student at the time in life when they should already be independent and confident in themselves and their abilities. My reply to this is that maybe we have forgotten our own youth. Too often at universities we expect students to be the kind of student that we were. And many of us were not the confident, stellar student we remember being. Holding space requires giving up some power and control and letting others exercise theirs.
In our communities we see the same thing. Sometimes very thoughtful people are not the first to jump in the conversation. They may think their ideas unworthy or believe no one will listen, but if we take the time to listen to the quiet ones, we can learn and grow ourselves. A community is made up of all our voices, loud and soft, big and small. If we stop to really listen and hold the space, we will hear the snowflakes falling, each unique and important. This holiday season, let’s relish the silences and hold space for the quiet voices around us.
Bonnie D. Irwin is chancellor of the University of Hawaii at Hilo. Her column appears monthly in the Tribune-Herald.
