Okay. Thank you for your patience while I took a few weeks to feel into what’s next for this space. I won’t lie, two and a half of those weeks were spent with absolutely no answers. My mind was blank, pushing back anytime I so much as dared to approach the question. This stressed me out until I remembered my timing has always proved trustworthy, and I relaxed. Three days ago, clarity spontaneously emerged. Classic.
With that, here’s a list of the ways SpaceUnknown is evolving…
1. FREQUENCY
The first shift is that I’m releasing my commitment to publish once per week. That structure was helpful in the beginning—it served as a useful contrast through which I could sense into the unique shape of my own process. Now that I’ve sketched the rough outline of my creative rhythms, it’s time to adapt my commitments in this space to match.
Over the past ten weeks of experimental subversion of the weekly publishing format, as well as observations sustained over the course of my previous creative career, I learned that my best work is produced in concentrated bursts with longer fallow periods.
During these fallow periods, I’m absorbing, collecting, integrating, exchanging, living the research that later becomes language. Slowly, through my whole body—not merely rushed through my intellect for fear of fading into obscurity if I fall behind the ceaseless march of modern production. This is how I keep my work honest.
From the outside, this can look like inconsistency. And for a while, I wondered if that might be the case. If my extreme resistance or total blankness when sitting down to write two thirds of the time spoke to a fundamental lack of discipline or avoidance on my part. Perhaps even the unfortunate evidence of an unseasonable cognitive decline requiring medical attention.
But when I really paid attention to what I was being called towards in lieu of writing, it always turned out to serve the process when trusted.
A three hour walk during which my mind emptied, and a chance encounter with a new friend unfolded into a conversation that helped me find language for a concept I’d been struggling to shape. A dream image during an inter-session nap that birthed a perfect analogy. A scene in a film that inspired the completion of a long-buried draft calling for resurrection.
Basically, I realised—within the context of my newish writing discipline—that I’m in creative process all the time. What appeared on the surface as resistance was often my instincts orienting me toward the void-space needed to write with substance. Avoidance has a different sensation. I know the difference.
There’s that quote about artists needing a lot of time to do nothing. That’s what was missing with the strict weekly publishing rhythm: time to do nothing. Without it, the work stayed ever so slightly dishonest. Material was offered only partially cooked. I could feel that, even if I couldn’t name it until recently.
Though, come to think of it, the message came through clearly during my time in Peru last Spring, on one of my long days of fasted meditation: Creativity comes from Nature, and Nature doesn’t follow a content schedule.
Guess I needed to test that wisdom for a year (almost to the day!) to integrate it.
Anyways.
All this to say, moving forward, there will be months you receive one piece. Other months, three. And still others, six. My new commitment is not to quotas, but to the integrity of the writing and the process behind it. Because we all deserve a fully cooked meal.
2. ROLE
Another important shift comes with the clarity that I don’t want to be in “teaching” energy anymore. If I’m honest, I’m not sure I ever did. My sense is that alternatives either felt obscure or inaccessible within the scope of my previous work with trauma survivors (more on that here).
There are three things about writing from a teaching role that I dislike.
The first is that it creates a sense of hierarchy—one that separates me from you—when what I actually want is to create a learning space we can play in together. I want to pass you the ball of exquisite inquiry from in front of you, not above you.
The second, and most unpleasurable, is that it generates unwanted pressure to be legible. To write in a way that will make you “get it”. My artist self hates this. The more I reintegrate her into my life, the less legible I care to be. Further, the goal of legibility is plainly incongruent with the “unknown” this space—and my work—inhabits, which is all about making a home in the complex, paradoxical, and ambiguous.
Something I’ve noticed is that when I read writing rendered too explicitly, it slips right through me. It leaves no tension to stretch against, no mystery to meet me in the in-between. Nothing to linger in, return to, or be changed by. I don’t want to create that experience for you.
It occurred to me that when I strive for legibility, I also patronize you on some level (unintentionally, of course). When it’s all laid out on a clearly articulated platter, I deprive you of opportunities to be transformed through the struggle of personal sense-making, of refining your instincts with better questions, and of stumbling through the side doors of discovery only misunderstanding can unlock.
Therefore, I release myself from any conscious or unconscious commitment I’ve made to make you “get” anything. And I release you from the expectation to understand me. From now on, the only pressure I care to bear in my writing is to tell the complete truth. If the truth comes out like random gibberish, so be it.
Lastly, I dislike the way I write when I’m in teaching-mode. Straight up. It’s boring. Dehydrated somehow. I swear I can feel my soul grasping for moisture.
Don’t get me wrong, writing to teach was useful training. I learned a lot. Many of you have written to tell me you did too. But where we’re at now is that the idea of writing another dusty-ass “how to” makes me want to fling myself into the gaping maws of a deadly mythological beast.
So… no more of that. Unless it comes sporting a cloak, speaking in riddles, or some sort of oracular dream sequence is involved.
For the rest, ChatGPT has you covered.
3. CONTENT
Instead of occupying a more traditional teaching role, I’ll be dedicating much of my future writing to opening the door to my own active learning process as a self-identified eternal student.
I’ve already published a few of these under the “Confessionals” section of this Substack. Think less lecture notes, and more field notes shared over candlelight at a far-flung roadside inn by a fellow traveler at the edge of the known. These are the most challenging, yet satisfying pieces to write, since they allow me to process the shape of what I’m thinking and experiencing in real time. Bonus: they also seem to be the pieces you enjoy most. Excellent.
And since I live everything I might otherwise teach, I imagine the effect will still be illuminating—just by way of embodied narrative, rather than tedious explanations.
I will continue with my “Exquisite Practices”, “In Conversation”, and occasional workshop series when inspired to do so. And of course, I will share about new offerings as they become available.
Speaking of which: I’ll be launching a much-requested small group supervision offering for coaches shortly. So keep an eye out if you’re a practitioner who’s been waiting for a way to learn from me in the context of your professional practice.
4. PAID FEATURES
As mentioned, I’m moving away from the old, frequency-based subscription model. Instead, paywalls will mostly serve as an added layer of protection for writing that delves into more sensitive personal material—things I want to share with you, but would rather do so from the privacy and comfort of my living room than in a conversation on my front doorstep, so-to-speak.
Your monthly contribution is a way to honour the sanctity of my inner world, and support the generous psycho-emotional labour that goes into making that world a nurturing, rather than volatile, environment to host you from.
It will also continue to grant you full or discounted access to future workshops, and the entire archive of my writing.
I’ve been toying with the idea of turning on a paid-subs chat, but I’m still unsure. Is that something you’d be into? It might be a fun space for more informal exchanges—shower thoughts, reflections, questions, and memes (few know about the thick af stash I’ve been quietly sitting on). Let me know in the comments.
Aaaaand that’s basically that.
If the new structure and tone-shift thrill you, great! If not, you have my full blessing (not that you need it) to unsubscribe. I won’t hold it against you.
Until next time…
Stay exquisite :)
— Antonia
And when you're ready for the next step…
1. Learn more about 1:1 coaching, and apply for a complimentary, commitment-free discovery session with me here.
2. Learn more about UnfoldingSpace, my twice-monthly group coaching membership here.
3. Up-level your self-regulation and mindfulness skills with Open Studios—an app that looks, and feels, like riding in a sexy wellness spaceship.
I am all in for the, perhaps intricate but definitely horizontal, fully cooked juicy meals filled with embodied truthful narrative ✨️🙏 The eternal student in me will definitely enjoy the integration siesta afterwards.
And with regards to the paid-subs chat... I am not fully convinced about it. Maybe I am already anticipating an overload of information to filter through? But, ffs, the meme stash... I am EAGER. And that's how far my argument can go right now, haha.
Now these are some updates we live for!! I’m genuinely so excited for this new chapter & taking a few moments to celebrate this win for and with you. I really love the idea of giving us the information in form of exquisite seeds rather than manuals, creating space for your intelligence to intertwine with ours and new unknown processes forming through this. Like giving an artist some paint tubes instead of a coloring book. 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻 and yes DROP THE MEME STASH