Providence Moves When You Hurl Yourself Into the Abyss

How nature rewards courage and why I've been MIA

I have hardly opened Substack in the last month. I haven’t had time to read, let alone write, anything, and my hopes to catch up on my favorite stacks have become a Sisyphean task. I did start with Kathleen Devaney’s post, and of course, that only confirmed that spending less time online was a good thing. Then I read Mathew Crawford’s monster article, and it reminded me how much I miss the conspiratorial dot-connecting. Inside me are two wolves.

So, apologies for being MIA, but I do have a reason: not only was I touching grass, but I was also building, with the hopes that everyone would come.

Yes, friends, I took my humble tax refund and, instead of going down to Mexico for my annual cancer check and wellness week, I put down a security deposit and first month’s rent for a space in Humboldt Park.

Three weeks later, on May 24th, I held a soft launch for my family and friends. The name of the event?

This Is It.

On May 1st, I received the keys to this:

And on May 24th, I opened the doors to this:

I hope you like looking at photos, because how else can I humble brag about The Visceral Adventure Lounge?!?

Yes, that’s exactly what I called it.

After all, my mission of alchemising art, culture, and conversation spans many platforms.

The amount of passion and labour of love I poured into this space is indescribable. The soft launch felt like an enormous finish line. For weeks, I averaged very little food and even less sleep, consumed by hyperfocus. I was climbing ladders, building out stages, and putting out fires right up until the eleventh hour.

The night before, I was exhausted af:

The moment before the doors opened, I put on my adventure outfit and hoped for the best.

The evening was magical.

But I had definitely burning the candle at both ends. If it weren’t others grabbing photos, I wouldn’t have a single snapshot of the night.

I felt deeply accomplished, held up by the love and support of my sweet friends. Can you see it on my face?

I didn’t get the chance to present a proper speech, so I thought I’d do it here. I want to tell you the whole story of how it all got to be. It’s worth telling.

I think 2026 is a big year for adventure. It’s a year begging us to be brave. So, here I go hurling myself into the abyss. Hoping it’s a feather bed. And the rest of that McKenna quote that I really like, even though he was most likely an agent and product of Tavistock. Ugh, does it have to be every sacred cow?

All good. We got more grass to touch.

I will try to remember some of the things I spoke from the heart that night because I did, in fact, make a speech. And I hope you forgive me for taking this self-centered time to print it here. Now that the space is open, I can have a bit more free time to spend on Substack. Catch up on posts. Write a few good ones myself. Maybe even do another video. I see some of you putting out bangers.

And now that I’ve taken a few B-roll photos myself, I’ll sprinkle them in here.

Tell your Chicago friends: new space in town, come through.

I want to take a pause and take all this in. This moment. To soak it in: our presence, our energy, our intention, our reverence. I don’t use that word lightly.

Funny enough, this building used to be a church and a ministry. And I come from the world of theatre, which is also very ministry-like. Each ethos gathers people in a room and asks them to believe in something together for a little while.

Both are built around ritual: repetition, timing, presence, symbols, costumes, lighting, music, silence, entrances and exits, communion between strangers. Theatre, in fact, emerged from religious ceremony in many cultures.

Earlier this week, my son Jaxon and I came here while the space was still in deep setup mode: ladders, paint, cut-up magazines, the smell of polyurethane thick enough to make you high. I had just brought over the djembe, and while I was busy with tasks, Jaxon began tapping it gently as he walked around, singing Ise Oluwa. Ise Oluwa — God’s work.

It stopped me dead in my tracks.

Truth be told, I knew I wanted to gather people to break in this space, but I was so busy getting the space physically ready that I hadn’t fully shaped how the evening would go.

That moment made it obvious: we needed to begin with ritual. A way to acknowledge that we were gathering on May 24th, the day before Memorial Day, not only to open Visceral Adventure, but also to celebrate my mother’s 71st birthday.

For those who don’t know me, my name is Tonika, but at the Lounge I go by Tbird. It’s an alias my dear friend Isaiah has used for me for over twenty years, and I’ve decided to lean into it.

I am the Artistic Director of Silent Theatre, which celebrated its 20th anniversary last year. Most people in Chicago know me through that work. I also call myself an Adventure Architect — a self-imposed title reflecting my activities in special events, passion projects, and my Substack, Visceral Adventure.

If you can’t tell, I’m into adventure.

You can blame my mother for that. When I was 12, during the free fall of post-communist Bulgaria, she took me by the hand, brought me to the United States, and rebuilt our lives with a suitcase, five dollars, no English, and no network. That took a set of major brass ovaries, and her courage has been the wind beneath my own.

Adventure has also taken many forms since then. My health journey in recent years required a different kind of resilience, especially in navigating the medical industrial complex. What a crazy adventure that has been! Even earlier, in my twenties, I bought a 42-foot school bus and convinced twelve artists to leave their jobs, apartments, and families to tour the country with a little play called Lulu.

You can see snapshots of that era in the Pandora’s Box nook, where old-timey silver-screen noir celluloid is the aesthetic.

Every nook in The Lounge tells a story. I wanted it to feel like an eclectic film set, where each environment is its own world.

There’s The Athenaeum, bringing Dark Academia and Occult Library vibes.

And Bohemia serving up the ol’ gypsy caravan, near and dear to my own nomadic soul.

Le Boudoir styling up art deco chic.

Route 66, which features the Jukebox, is still very incomplete, but once I get my hands on a glittery vinyl pink ice cream soda pop booth, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

And the Korova booth, so named after the bar in A Clockwork Orange, as I’ve done my best to bring some space-age mod, perhaps my favourite of all aesthetics for furniture and decor.

Dear friends, this is The Visceral Adventure Lounge.

It’s quite possible that my most recent memento mori has even further expanded my risk profile. Because here I am, in the smog of economic disaster, at the threshold of World War III, opening a space that is intended to revere our humanity. The Visceral Adventure Lounge, nestled at the very edge of Humboldt Park is your expanded living room where we can alchemise art, culture, and conversation. Where we can commune in person, breathe the same air, share experiences, because community is our greatest technology.

A gathering of people changes the meaning of what happens. Laughter is contagious. Laughter spreads. Silence spreads. Reverence spreads. Humans synchronize emotionally in groups. Incidentally, both theatre and ministry know this and shape it deliberately. We understand the same secret: people rarely change because of raw information alone.

People change because they feel something together. There is a bespoke collective agreement:

“We will enter this constructed space together and allow ourselves to be transformed by it.”

You could say, I’d like to squeeze every experience and meaning into and from my existence on this physical plane. When the death dragon finally stopped breathing down my neck, I was having coffee with my ma and I said to her: I’d like to synthesize the family’s skill set and passions with something we can give back to the world; I want a family business model that reflects our interests and talent and what I came up with was the idea of a performance art venue, somewhere where Silent Theatre can have a home and Visceral Adventure can create meaningful experiences for people. Somewhere where my children can learn entrepreneurship. Where the world could taste the love that my mother’s hands baked into her cooking. I want to have deep conversations and truly help expand our collective consciousness by small acts of connection. The way our planet changes into the more beautiful world we know in our hearts is possible by having transformation on a micro level be reflected in the resonance field of the macro.”

I wanted a big space that has parking and a nook for an office and a stage and a kitchen… I told my ma, “We need a former funeral home or a church.”

Well, that’s just a tall order. The feeling hung in the air like a fish grasping for water.

Now, I’ve learned that when asking the universe to provide me with an answer to my prayers, I shouldn’t get bogged down in how I’m going to do all this. My job isn’t to think of the how, but the what. And it has to be a clear vision of the what. My job was to just pay attention to the signs and opportunities that came along. They usually show up in forms of synchronicities, bizarre coincidences, and as my friend Nellie says, in the abstract language God uses to communicate.

The day I got back from Florida with Gillian after our little clown-show tour, I was still driving the borrowed van and on my way to return it when I stopped to pick up Jaxon from school. Along the way, I noticed a “Storefront for Rent” sign and called the number, but that particular space wasn’t a viable option.

While I was on the phone, though, I missed my turn and ended up driving past 3638 W. Grand. I managed to snap a quick photo of that “For Rent” sign before the light changed. The photo was blurry, the phone number I thought I could make out wasn’t in service, and even feeding the image into ChatGPT didn’t get me anything but a “sorry, wrong number.”

When I picked up Jaxon, I told him the whole story. Despite my protests that I was already running late returning the van, he insisted we go back. So we did. This time, we could make out the sign enough to get the correct number, and when we called, someone did answer. Had the number been more clearly written on the sign, would the space still have waited for me?

There were many other little obstacles and nudges along the way, but looking back, I’d like to think the universe was deliberately leading me there. It felt less like a coincidence and more like a series of doors opening at exactly the right moment. It was so obvious to me that this was mine to do.

And yes, I still need to prioritize health, but I don’t fancy myself a cancer patient. I sometimes even forget about the cancer entirely. Like that was a different timeline, a different person. I just don’t align with it. It simply isn’t my desired reality. Is that magical thinking? Maybe. But life is full of magic. And adventure! And part of our wizardry is not only to navigate through the obstacle course of life, but to be a part of creating your realm. Asking the universe for what you want.

This is it. This is my next big adventure. My family, my friends, my community. And I’m hoping nature still loves courage the way it has shown me it does; that Providence moves to reward the brave. As Anais Nin said: “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.” (Hat tip Mary Poindexter McLaughlin for turning me on to the quote.)

The day I signed the lease, I had received a troubling medical test. That same morning I had to field a meeting with the kids’ choir admins over some behavioral issues. I had a show at Labyrinth, where I read a story about adventure, incidentally. There was lots going on that Saturday, only a month ago. Including, finally getting a car after not having wheels for three months. Grateful to Davor for making that happen. And to Frank for letting me borrow his van on numerous occasions. And the folks who helped me load in and set up: Victor, Dennis, Nick, Paul, Isaiah, Nell, Gillian, Diane, Stefan, Kelly, Adrian… I am so very grateful to have friends in my life. And of course my family who had to endure long absences this month as I readied the space and their dedication to making it all happen: from Frankie doing small annoying tasks, to Jaxon squeezing in help in-between school, choir, and work;

From Calvin spending long days hauling heavy furniture with me, to my mom cutting, gluing, and collaging and making the tasty treats we call Baba’s Kinky Bites.

So, world, welcome to The Visceral Adventure Lounge.

This space has a two-pronged purpose: the first, the public-facing use, which will include live performance and community-oriented classes, clubs, and events, and the second, the PMA use, which stands for Private Membership Association. (Although I don’t like the word “membership” so I’ll refer to it as “fellowship” as we are all fellow travelers on this earth.) The PMA would curate and produce events under the Visceral Adventure umbrella. I’ll also be looking to rent the space out to folks as they celebrate milestones after I catch my breath and while I get my own creative events going.

I am pretty proud of how it turned out!

This is it.

Thank you all so much for being a part of the journey. And a very happy birthday to Baba.

That’s what a proper speech would have been like. But it really is of little importance what I woulda coulda shoulda said. The space speaks for itself.

Everyone who came to the soft launch received a welcome bag with a Baba treat, a compass, a skeleton key, a fellowship card, and a little wax-stamped envelope with instructions for a scavenger hunt.

The prize was an upgraded fellowship card that enabled the winner to throw a party at The Lounge. And a custom dinner for two made by Baba. The person who solved the scavenger hunt and riddle and won, Julius, was a friend of my sons’ from choir who, on a whim, had agreed earlier that evening to sing Ise Oluwa with Isaiah and the twins. Blessed. He was the first holder of The Adventurer card. In three days, the Lounge received two more fellowship upgrades. By Thursday, I had my first rental booked. I am holding that event, a recital for piano students, tonight. I’m feeling true momentum. Our first Visceral Adventure event is on June 11th. It’s called Dinner with Randos featuring live music, conversation, and a three-course meal cooked by Baba.

In addition to programming Silent Theatre content and personal passion projects, I will need to rely on rentals to get me started. So if you know someone in Chicago who wants to put on a special event or is looking for a space for their fundraiser or wants to throw a private party, please route them to VisceralAdventure.com — the website is up and running and has rental inquiry forms. If someone is looking for small private catering, Baba’s Roaming Kitchen is up and running. And of course, please come to events here - having your presence is the most meaningful.

My dear Substack community, thank you for your patience as I keep reinventing myself. Your girl’s feeling good these days. There are reasons the psychopaths are struggling. We are following our bliss, and this parade isn’t expecting any rain.

Unless you explicitly tell me to add you to the Lounge mailing list because you want to know more about upcoming events there, I won’t do it. Substack is its own thing and my musings here often cross over into the unpopular opinions third rail sections of the internet. So if you found yourself here when you meant to only be part of the Lounge’s list, do let me know so I can remedy.

It’s going to be a good summer.

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The author of Visceral Adventure believes in the gift economy and therefore offers all content with no paywall, asking you to contribute whatever amount feels good to you. Since value is unique and subjective, only you can decide what (if any) contribution is gifted at this time. All contributions benefit and support my family.

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As always, thank you for being a part of my journey.