In January of 2024, I was deep in despair, exhausted and hopeless from five years of struggle, isolation, and darkness—my body responding with survival physiology to most everyday things, adrenals overworked for years, unable to interact with most people. There were no words in our realm to describe what my ‘living’ had become.
Definitely without “writing energy” in me, I was sitting on the floor in the small cabin, no service or wifi to distract, and I mustered the strength to do a writing prompt from the Loam. It was a fill-in-the-blank prompt.
Something like: She took a [type of transportation] when she fell to [place] and only brought [item].
I set a 5-min timer and my pen began to move:
“She took an unmarked burrow when she fell to Root Living, and only brought her tears.”
Out came three sloppy handwritten pages telling the tale of “Rose Roots” (who later would become “Rose Bluehaven”).
Suddenly there was a place. Suddenly there were words. A few weeks later, in that quiet cabin, the pen gave me another handhold: creating a list of the powers I’d gained across these challenging 5 years. I gathered them across a few weeks, and the fog of despair slowly lifted.
I typed up the short story, and then it sat. (I was still navigating Root Living each day.) The shifts continued, but oh so slowly. A Loam friend brought the term “Dark Night of the Soul” to my awareness, and that new lens added depth to my experiences—but I was still in it.
A year passed. Then another.
This past winter, I became more able to look back on those years that had been so painful and disorienting. My body had wider capacity, deeper roots. This April, the story asked me to finish it. It became a life of its own, new parts woven in across the next two months, transforming me as the story morphed. I’d also been hearing the call to begin sharing again, from a new public name: Rebecca Roots.
And so, a reemergence is in process, a rebirth, alongside the creation of this story—which closes a chapter.
I’d always imagined Root Living would be a handwritten zine, like my first two. They took about 3 months to hand-draw, once I had written the text. Last week when I finished the Root Living text, over 8,000 words, it said: Send me into the world. Share me now. Share me widely and generously.
And so, I am delighted to share with you today—from a body that is rooted and vibrantly alive from this creation, able to once again be Above Ground—the story of Rose Bluehaven falling to Root Living. May it illuminate the nonlinear journeys beyond the visible, soften hearts, and thicken stories.
If you are drawn towards, there are three ways to read:
(1) PDF online (screen/e-reader) (Free)
(2) Print the booklet PDF, fold, and read. (Free)
(3) Order a physical booklet by June 12, 2026 ($20)
Here’s the link with both PDFs, printing details, etc: rebeccaroots.love/root-living
The website is in early stages of creation, but you can get a vibe. (Once again, I was told: share it now!) (Note: If there was prior interest in my other zines, I will be making them available as free PDF-booklet printables this summer… check back in time.)
The Root Living page will soon have a collection of intimate accounts from those years, written as part of the Loam.
Would anyone be interested in a virtual Root Living Q&A in July? I crave faces and voices, connection across shared roots.
We’ll see what unfolds… I’m open to what this space becomes, what creations are asked to be birthed through me. Always interested in creating with others (It has been so joyful & meaningful to witness & lightly support Brian Costello’s The Primoridal Code this season, for example.)
Thank you for being a Tealight in the world. I am who I am because of you. Your energy ripples out beyond measure. Thank you for your tender hearts.