My home sanctuary for breath and sound A quiet reflection on lineage, love, and learning to stop proving myself Sometimes I wonder if certain stories are passed down, not by words, but by air. Like steam from a cup of tea, or the way one silence echoes another. In my family, the story goes something like this: If you want to be loved, you have to earn it. Be impressive. Be beautiful. Be helpful. Be less of a burden. If you're tired, don’t show it. If you’re hurt, smile kindly

by Yuna Lee In breathwork, tea ceremony, and healing spaces, we often speak of “holding space.” But what does that really mean? It’s not a technique. It’s a presence. A kind of stillness we choose together. This poem is a quiet reflection on what it feels like, what it asks of us, and what it gives in return. The Art of Holding Space (*Inspired by the structure of Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art.”) The art of holding space—we keep it with breath. Not fixing, not advising, not nam