Viktor Frankl wrote that between stimulus and response there is a space—and in that space lies our power to choose. It’s a quote that travels well on posters and profiles. But the real question is quieter and more urgent: Where is that space in your actual life? Not in theory. Right in the middle of your next tense meeting, your next wave of anxiety, your next setback.
In my coaching work with leaders and high performers, Irena Golob, I see something consistent: the people who feel most trapped are rarely trapped by circumstances alone. They’re trapped by speed. A stimulus hits—a sharp Slack message, a client complaint, a partner’s silence—and the nervous system reacts before values even get a vote. The space exists, but it’s paper-thin.
This is an exploration of how the space between stimulus and response can grow, and what becomes possible when it does.
You are more changeable than your history suggests
For a long time, popular psychology treated personality like set concrete: you were “just reactive” or “just anxious,” and the best you could do was manage it. But research on volitional personality change points to a more hopeful reality: traits can shift when you deliberately practice new behaviors over time. Not through wishful thinking, but through repeated actions that teach the brain a new default.
That matters because the space between stimulus and response is partly built from your baseline tendencies—your tolerance for uncertainty, your openness to feedback, your capacity to recover after emotional spikes. If you believe you’re “wired” to snap, avoid, or control, you’ll treat the space as impossible to access. Yet reactions are often well-rehearsed habits, and habits live in a brain designed for learning.
Ancient traditions sensed this long before neuroscience had the vocabulary. Marcus Aurelius wrote, “You have power over your mind—not outside events.” Buddhism, in its own language, teaches that suffering grows when we grasp for control over what cannot be controlled. Different lineages, same insight: freedom is inner sovereignty, not perfect external conditions.
And in 2026, this matters more than ever: our environments are engineered for acceleration—notifications, rapid cycles, constant evaluation. The space doesn’t disappear. It just gets crowded out unless you train it.
Mindfulness strengthens the space between stimulus and response (without forcing calm)
The space isn’t a command center where you dominate reality. It’s more like a listening room—a place to notice what is yours to influence, what is not, and which story your mind is currently selling as truth.
Mindfulness is the practice that turns the lights on. Not as a mystical escape, but as a practical skill of self-regulation. With consistent practice, studies often show stronger engagement of brain networks involved in executive function and perspective-taking, alongside reduced emotional reactivity. In plain language: you give your prefrontal cortex time to come online before the amygdala drives the car.
One caution: mindfulness is not suppression. Trying to “push away” thoughts frequently backfires—what psychologist Daniel Wegner described as ironic process theory, where suppression makes the unwanted thought more persistent. The space we want is not a white-knuckled pause. It’s an open, curious one.
Try this micro-moment in real time:
- Name it: “My chest is tight. My mind is predicting disaster.”
- Normalize it: “This is a nervous system response, not a prophecy.”
- Widen it: “I can stay with this for one breath longer.”
- Choose it: “What response aligns with my values right now?”
That “breath longer” is where your agency lives. It’s small—and it’s everything.
Volition is the bridge from intention to action
Motivation is how much you feel like doing the right thing. Volition is the bridge that carries you from intention to action when you don’t feel like it. When volition is depleted, you can know exactly what you want—healthier conflict, clearer boundaries, more courage—and still feel stuck, as if you’re standing at the edge of the pool unable to step in.
I often think of the old story of the man by the Pool of Bethesda, waiting for healing. The turning point isn’t a thunderclap; it’s a question—“Do you want to be well?”—followed by a simple instruction: “Rise, take up your mat, and walk.” Whether you read it spiritually or psychologically, the pattern is powerful: a single volitional act often precedes transformation. The stimulus (years of difficulty) didn’t change. The response did.
A surprisingly potent doorway into volition is curiosity. Curious people are more willing to engage with uncertainty instead of defending old patterns. Curiosity widens the gap because it asks, “What else might be true here?”
Use tiny “curiosity challenges” to train the gap:
- In a tense meeting: ask one more question before you defend your point.
- After critical feedback: try “What part of this is data?” instead of “They’re attacking me.”
- When you feel urgency: delay the reply by 90 seconds and reread your draft.
- At home: replace “You never…” with “Help me understand what happened.”
As Irena Golob often reminds clients, small experiments are not trivial—they are neural votes for the person you are becoming. Over time, your nervous system learns: “We can meet the unfamiliar and survive.”
Wise surrender is not resignation—it’s integrity under pressure
There’s a subtle trap in all of this. In the name of “choosing our response,” you can turn life into a perfectionistic self-mastery project: If I’m truly free, I should always be calm. Then any flash of anger or fear becomes a personal failure.
This is where the distinction between wise surrender and resignation matters.
| Inner stance | What it sounds like | What it produces |
|---|---|---|
| Wise surrender | “I can’t control this outcome, but I can control my integrity.” | clarity, steadiness, principled action |
| Resignation | “It doesn’t matter what I do; nothing will change.” | helplessness, withdrawal, bitterness |
Wise surrender is active—and it expands the space between stimulus and response. It’s a clear-eyed acceptance of what’s outside your influence, paired with a fierce commitment to what is still yours to choose: your tone, your boundaries, your next step, your repair attempt.
There’s also a relational layer we often ignore. Cultures and communities shape what “a good response” looks like—sometimes prioritizing harmony, sometimes directness, often both depending on context. Freedom isn’t only “I choose what I want.” It can also be, “I choose in a way that aligns me with the people and systems I’m part of.”
So here’s your practical invitation for today: pick one recurring trigger—a type of email, a certain tone, a familiar uncertainty. When it appears, don’t try to be perfect. Just insert a different response once: one breath longer, one curious question, one softer story about yourself.
Your deepest freedom lives in how you meet what you did not choose. The space is already there. Your work is to step into it—again and again—until it feels like home.
Disclaimer: This is for informational purposes only and not a substitute for professional advice. Consult a qualified expert for personal guidance.
If you want more tools for values-based behavior change and emotional regulation, explore resources on my Website.