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The Space RI, 171 Chestnut Street Ste 200, Providence, RI (2026)

04/02/2026

In a world built for neurotypicals, being different often comes with an unspoken expectation to adapt, translate, and conform. That’s what it can feel like to be autistic in this kind of world. And instead of asking how the system could be more flexible, more inclusive, the expectation becomes: adapt, translate, conform. But this doesn’t just happen with autism. It shows up anywhere difference exists. People are asked to shrink. To mask. To make themselves more digestible. But the problem was never the person.
It’s a world that refuses to be multilingual.
Autism doesn’t need fixing. Difference doesn’t need erasing. What we need is curiosity. Flexibility. A willingness to understand ways of being that aren’t our own. Because inclusion isn’t about forcing people into a system. It’s about building one that was never exclusionary to begin with. Binaries aren’t truth. Question them.

02/16/2026

Series Four of Six: The Emergence. This Wednesday (bring a relic/object of significance)

After the stillness, something begins to stir. Not clarity. Not answers. Not a grand rebirth.

Just the faintest sense that the old shape no longer fits, and something unnamed is quietly forming beneath the surface.

In Jungian language, this is when the psyche begins to reorganize itself. The unconscious has spoken. The ego has loosened.
And now, without announcement or permission, a new energy starts to gather.

It may feel like:
• a strange new desire
• a soft curiosity
• an impulse you don’t quite recognize
• or simply the absence of what used to define you

Nothing is fully formed yet. But something is different.

We’ll gather to sit with these early stirrings, to notice what feels unfamiliar, what feels possible, and what feels quietly alive again.

There will be tea. There will be snacks. There will be gentle conversation and long pauses. There will be fire.

If you have a relic, an object that holds meaning from a past version of yourself, bring it along.

RSVP or just come.
Doors always open.

01/29/2026

There’s a lot of heaviness in the world right now.
We don’t want to ignore that.

This is a small practice in noticing joy, not as denial, but as something that can exist alongside everything else.

If you feel like it, you’re welcome to share a moment of joy.
You can comment here or send it to us privately.

At the end of each week, we will choose one person at random to receive a $25 gift card to Heartleaf Books as a quiet thank-you. (We sure do love !)

No pressure to participate.
No fixing.
No silver linings.

Joy doesn’t erase what’s hard: it sits beside it. 🤍

01/21/2026

Free dinner for former vendors! The work behind the scenes matters.

This dinner is our way of saying thank you to the vendors who supported The Space this year, by showing up, holding space, and doing work that OFTEN goes unnoticed.

Join us for a free thank-you dinner + story night.
Simple food. Real conversation. Storytelling. No expectations.

Free for former vendors. Limited seating.
DM to RSVP.

(Unrelated but also very related: I am deeply obsessed with “Thank U” by Alanis.)

01/15/2026

Series Three of Six: The Stillness
This Wednesday, January 21st

In Jungian language, this is the moment when the ego loosens its grip
and the unconscious finally gets a word in.
The pause.
The shedding.
The quiet breath before the next becoming.

We’ll gather to sit with what’s been asking to be released,
drink an unreasonable amount of tea,
eat snacks like it’s a love language,
and YES, something will be ceremonially burned at the end 🔥

(Jen will be supervising, because she famously does not trust me with fire. Growth includes accountability. 🤣)

A softer night.
A slower night.
Stillness…but shared.

RSVP or just come.
Doors always open

01/02/2026

One of my favorite things about this past year was watching The Space come into being.
A dream I carried quietly for a long time, finally taking shape.

At my core, my lifelong dream has always been simple:
to be a safe place.
a steady witness.
a personal hype person for other people’s becoming.

I was born to hold other people’s dreams with them; to help tend them, protect them, and walk beside them as they grow. That work gives me life.

We are infinitely better in community than we are alone.
Watching people begin their own businesses here, stretch into expansion, share their art, their offerings, their gifts; I am constantly in awe of how beautiful humans are when they are supported and seen.

I’ve always said my perfect day is a cup of tea and a room full of stories: desires, dreams, failures, longings. I love witnessing other people’s lives. I love listening. I love remembering what’s possible together.

This collective was never meant to be built on capitalism alone, but on love, hope, and mutual care.

A million thank yous… for trusting me, for showing up, for creating this with me.

12/29/2025

The last few months have been chaotic.
Grief, illness, endings, world events, holidays, survival mode.
Most of us have been getting through, not building momentum.

And yet, on January 1st, we’re suddenly expected to be energized, focused, future-oriented.
What?!

That whiplash isn’t personal failure; it’s cultural nonsense.

New Year’s resolutions fail not because people lack willpower,
but because they’re built on the idea that something about you is wrong
and ask for acceleration at the exact moment our bodies and nervous systems are still catching up.

So this isn’t a resolution workshop.
It’s an interruption.

We’re gathering to:
– reflect instead of resolve
– notice instead of optimize
– release attachment to outcomes
– normalize doing less without guilt

Borrowing from winter, stoicism, minimalism, and lived experience,
we’re making space for what’s actually within your control: your breath, your presence, your honesty, your pace.

No goals.
No reinvention.
No pressure to turn rest into productivity.

Just a room where enoughness is the starting point.

Come as you are.
That’s the practice.
Link in bio.

See you there.
Jen & Jenn

12/21/2025

Yule / Winter Solstice — my favorite time of year.

A common misconception, shaped by our capitalistic rush culture, is that the solstice is a return to light that requires immediate action. But nature doesn’t respond with urgency.
It responds with patience.

Seeds don’t sprout.
Animals don’t suddenly emerge.
The cold often deepens.
We actually fall further into winter.

The solstice is an imperceptible turning point; not a launch.

Yet every damn turning point in our culture becomes a productivity cue:
New year → GOALS
New light → GROWTH
Fresh start → ACCELERATION

This overlays a linear, output-driven story onto a cyclical, ecological reality.

But winter was never meant for scaling, optimizing, or “leveling up.”
It was meant for conservation.

Ecologically and spiritually, the solstice is a liminal moment:
a pause
a breath
a noticing

Winter wisdom is subtle, and subtlety is undervalued.

Winter solstice doesn’t say move forward.
It says: you survived the dark, now keep resting. Light grows on its own.

Growth will come.
Not because you chased it.

This season doesn’t demand becoming.
It asks for being.

For warmth.
For stillness.
For trusting that even now, ESPECIALLY now, the light is quietly returning.

May you rest without justification.
May calm be enough.
May doing less be sacred.

12/17/2025

F**k New Year’s resolutions.

It’s January. It’s winter. And your nervous system does not want a self-improvement project.

If “this will be my year” worked, we’d all be done by now.

This gathering is a refusal; of hustle, of pressure, of pretending January is a starting line.

No resolutions. No fixing. No “new you.”

Just warmth, honesty, and the radical permission to be exactly where you are.

Anti–New Year Gathering Saturday 1/3 1–3 PM
Come as you are.
You are already enough.
Link in bio.

12/15/2025

In moments like this, community matters.

The Space is home to a collective of deeply caring humans and services. Among us are social workers, clinicians, and behavior analysts who support people across the lifespan, from children to adults.

Right now, many in our community are carrying fear, grief, shock, and uncertainty in their bodies and nervous systems.

We want you to know this clearly: there is space for you here.

Our practitioners have extensive experience holding space for difficult moments; fear, loss, grief, overwhelm, and emotions that don’t always come with clear words. You do not need to have it figured out to show up.

We are offering in-person support for those who feel safe coming in, as well as virtual support for anyone who does not. And to be very clear: you do not need to be an existing client to receive support.

You don’t have to carry this alone.
If you or someone you love needs a place to land right now, our doors, and our hearts, are open. 
Reach out via private message or at [email protected].

🖤

12/14/2025

Of course sleep feels impossible tonight.

How do you not hold fear here? When the pain is real. When people are hurting. When safety feels fragile and your body knows it before your mind does. You can’t erase the fact that we’re human. Fear moves through us. Grief sits heavy on the chest. Everything feels slower, less certain.

Humaning is hard.

There’s nowhere I’d rather be than inside collective grief with my community, staying close, bearing witness, not turning away. And at the same time I wish I could carry it for everyone, take it off their backs, hold it somewhere else so they don’t have to feel it like this.

But that’s not how this works.

These moments strip everything down. They remind you how close we all actually are, how thin the space is between one life and another. How much love there is. And how much it costs. I don’t have clarity. I don’t have answers. I just feel the weight of this, and the effort it takes not to harden. Not to disappear into the grief. Not to let fear decide what comes next.

It’s hard to talk about presence and non-attachment when violence keeps returning us to this place. Where safety feels conditional and fear feels reasonable. This isn’t a failure of practice. It’s the cost of living in a world where this keeps happening and we’re expected to absorb it and move on.

Maybe this is the practice right now. No hope. No meaning found. Just breathing. Being human together.

Holding Brown and the wider Providence community as best I can tonight.

12/10/2025

Identity Death Café | Part Three: The Stillness

Wednesday, December 17 | 6–8 PM
The Space | Providence

This one lands right before the solstice, and honestly, the timing couldn’t be better.

The Stillness is the part of identity death we almost never honor:
the pause after shedding,
where nothing is asked of you,
and nothing needs to become yet.

It isn’t releasing.
It isn’t grieving.
It isn’t rebuilding.

It’s space.
A reset.
A breath between selves.

We love transformation and we love rebirth,
but rarely do we sit in the middle:
the brewing, composting, liminal phase
where identity rests without urgency.

Stillness isn’t doing nothing.
It’s letting what already shifted land.

It’s where the nervous system integrates,
the psyche decomposes gently,
and the body gets to exist without performance.

Not the before, not the after:
the in-between.

The sweet spot.

The part nature never rushes:
dark soil before sprout,
cocoon before wing,
solstice night before the turning of light.

On the 17th, we’ll gather in low light,
tea, blankets, soft grounding,
and sit together in that place:
not empty, not aimless,
but quietly, intentionally alive.

No identity labor.
No meaning to extract.
No becoming yet.

Just The Stillness-
the part of death that tends to the root system
before anything new dares surface.
Free community offering

Accessibility:
We’re on the 2nd floor.
If you need a virtual option due to mobility access, we’ll set up Zoom.

This is not a void.
It’s the warm dark of what’s next,
the pause that protects becoming,
the necessary neutrality between selves.

The Stillness is not nothing:
it’s everything quietly rearranging.

The Space RI

04/02/2026

02/16/2026

01/29/2026

01/21/2026

01/15/2026

01/02/2026

12/29/2025

12/21/2025

12/17/2025

12/15/2025

12/14/2025

12/10/2025

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