Hearts on the Horizon is a soft room inside the damage—for those who never "moved on”.
In this space, I share essays, poetry, and ritual writing for those who are still living in the wake of collapse and are creating new life against the odds.
This is not a lifestyle blog or coaching platform. It is not a personal brand.
It is a space for grief, reverence, and recovery. It’s for all of us who feel deeply —those who are alone, parenting, caretaking, creating, writing, and remembering inside a world that wants to forget. Most importantly, it’s for those who believe that our words, our witness, and our being together are part of how we begin again.
I write from within collapse—from the daily tension between protection and presence, between burnout and devotion. Here, I offer essays, gatherings, and ritual writing for those seeking to live with clarity and care inside ongoing pandemic life, cultural disintegration, and systems that continue to fail the vulnerable.
The companion paid tier, The Room of Return, is a quiet space within the space—for those who want to stay a little longer, where the kettle is still warm and the pen hasn’t run dry.
Where This Began
What does Hearts on the Horizon mean?
Hearts — Those who are "Still Coviding" have big hearts.
Horizon — This is my son’s middle name (born at the end of February 2020). He is my daily reminder to keep my focus on the future. Every horizon calls us to consider our place in a timeline we can't control and reminds us of the power of imagining what's possible in the spaces where heaven meets earth.
For many years, I worked as an educator, leadership coach, and strategic intervention life coach. But everything changed when the pandemic reshaped every part of my life.
In some ways, this Substack began as a documentation of what it means to continue seeking an extraordinary life during the most difficult and disorienting season of our time. Hearts on the Horizon began as a call to action for those like me—to be gentle with their big hearts, to keep their eyes on the horizon, and to find joy, wonder, and gratitude even amidst collapse.
Rebekah is my given name. Elentiya is a chosen name, one I use with intention.
Elentiya means "Spirit That Could Not Be Broken," inspired by a moment in the Romantasy series Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas:
"I give you this name to use with honour, to use when other names grow too heavy. I name you Elentiya, 'Spirit That Could Not Be Broken.'"
This name speaks to the combination of childhood trauma, years of healing, and the refusal to surrender to this latest season of fear, loss, and pressure. It reminds me: I am still here.
Pandemic Biography
A highly organized and driven COVID-mitigator with a proven ability to manage a vast array of projects while navigating dynamic, complex, and volatile circumstances. My passion for learning about the scientific, non-hopium realities of COVID-19 has led me to develop real-time problem-solving methods to protect our family of six through five years of a global pandemic.
My efforts have led me to take on new roles, including:
Family Hair Stylist, Personal Communications Analyst, Family PR Rep, Virtual Social Organizer, Chief Mitigations Buyer, Biscuit Maker, HEPA Manager, Education Director, Birthday Cake Baker, COVID-Safe Logistics Coordinator, Documentarian, Piano Player, Wordsmith, and Laughter Generator.
Still here. Still resisting. Still creating.
