I’m Opening A New Room

My writing remains free — but soon there will be a deeper place to gather

I wasn’t trying to start a brand when I began writing here. I was trying to survive the weight of a world that didn’t feel like it had room for me—or for any of us grieving things no one wanted to see, much less name.

What I longed for most wasn’t just a platform. It was a table — a gathering place where we could write our way through this liminal space together.

Yesterday morning, while resting in a tiny chalet on the side of a mountain on a rare mini-escape trip we took to allow repairs to be done on our home without concerns over Covid exposure, I woke up to an earthquake. As I held my little one while trying to hide the fear in my eyes, it reminded me that I have spent most of his life in a protective posture that sometimes clouds my awareness that now is all we have.

I realized I don’t want to wait anymore.

So today, I’m opening a new door — both in my life and on Substack.

It’s called The Room of Return.

The Room of Return

This room is for those who have lived through a loss — or a combination of them: of identity, faith, safety, clarity, place, or belonging, of tending to mother-wounds, father-wounds, and are choosing, slowly and courageously, to come back to themselves.

Maybe your losses revolve around Still Coviding — as much of my writing still does — but in this room, we’ll welcome all forms of grief. This will be a space where no one has to defend their choices to protect themselves or their families during an ongoing pandemic and collapse.

As many know, I was a coach before the pandemic, but this isn’t a coaching space. I’m not a healer or expert. I am an artist and a convener of a space where we can sit in the glow of what’s still true. I’m showing up as a companion, a fellow writer, and a spiritual scientist holding space for what our words can do for our lives and our world.

In the words of Audre Lorde, Poetry is Not a Luxury and for me, one of the most important lessons I’ve learned over these last five years (and throughout my entire life) is that gathering with intention and writing my way through difficult seasons, especially those of collapse, is not optional. I want to honor the power of letting people in to my life in new and deeper ways. It feels full circle because although this is a virtual “letting in,” it still rests on the belief that we can’t do this alone, and even if we can, we honestly shouldn’t.

Sometimes we drug ourselves with dreams of new ideas. The head will save us. The brain alone will set us free. But there are no new ideas still waiting in the wings to save us as women, as human. There are only old and forgotten ones, new combinations, extrapolations and recognitions from within ourselves, along with the renewed courage to try them out. And we must constantly encourage ourselves and each other to attempt the heretical actions our dreams imply and some of our old ideas disparage. In the forefront of our move toward change, there is only our poetry to hint at possibility made real. Our poems formulate the implications of ourselves, what we feel within and dare make real (or bring action into accordance with), our fears, our hopes, our most cherished terrors…

But women have survived. As poets. And there are no new pains. We have felt them all already. We have hidden that fact in the same place where we have hidden our power. They lie in our dreams, and it is our dreams that point the way to freedom. They are made realizable through our poems that give us the strength and courage to see, to feel, to speak, and to dare.

-Audre Lorde

What’s Inside The Room of Return:

• 🕯️ Monthly gatherings on Zoom – creative, contemplative, low-demand, and honest — rooted in inquiry, poetry, presence, and recovery/nourishment, not productivity or problem solving

• 🌀 Notes + voice memos from the threshold of liminality – reflections from my process of unmaking, remembering, and communicating

• ✍️ Writing Invitations – soft prompts to help you return to what matters (via a private Substack chat and in live sessions)

• 🤝 Occasional co-writing sessions – space to write beside others, not for feedback, but for fellowship

• 🎁 First access to offerings, workshops, and artifacts born from this unfolding space (e.g. Substack Lives, and experiences like my Flowers for the Living workshop, where we will take a person in your life (or yourself), and use a form of eulogy/portraiture to see them and cherish them in the NOW)

• 🌱 The chance to co-create a room where what was once sacred can be named, reimagined, and reclaimed

Subscriptions begin at $5/month or $50/year, or if you feel especially moved to support the early unfolding of this space, you can also become a Founding Member.

FOUNDING MEMBER INVITATION

🌸 Flowers for the Living: A Portrait in Return

As a founding member, you’ll receive all the above plus a one-of-a-kind artifact:
A tiny portrait, crafted by me, not to market you, but to witness you.
A few sentences of warm, poetic attention — a spiritual snapshot in ink and honor, not a bio.

I’ll write it based on what I sense in your presence, your words, or what you choose to share when you arrive. How that happens is up to you — a short Zoom, a handful of words, an image you send me. It’s all low demand, and on your terms.

It’s not a deliverable. It’s a blessing in ink.

These portraits may one day grow into:

• A community offering

• A live reading series

• A zine, a publication, or an annual ritual

But for now, they’ll arrive quietly, just between us, and your full consent regarding privacy and sharing will always guide our work together.

You’ll also receive my deep gratitude and the knowledge that your presence is helping me and my family keep this gathering table sturdy and lit.

Founding Membership Option: $150/year

If my writing has helped you feel seen, softened, stronger, or more awake — and this sounds like a room you’d like to step into as a monthly paid subscriber, or a Founding Member, thank you. The door is open, and there’s always a seat at this table.

The option to join The Room of Return as a regular monthly paid subscriber or a Founding Member will soon become available, but I wanted to tell you the ‘why’ before showing you the ‘how.’

Opening this door isn’t about creating a higher tier or chasing income.
It’s about honoring what’s already unfolding — and making room for those who want to stay a little longer.

Your support helps me sustain what I’ve offered freely here for nearly two years — and what I hope to continue tending.

But mostly, this new room is for deeper breaths, slower conversation, and the kind of quiet companionship that matters more than ever.

The kettle is warm. The pen hasn’t run dry. You’re welcome here.

With warmth, wonder, and gratitude,

Rebekah