Well, hi!

My name is Risha. I live in a shambling wooden house on the edge of an indigenous forest, near a town named Wilderness, in what is known as the Garden Route of South Africa. I share this house with an assortment of frogs, spiders, books, the ghost of my beloved Labrador, and one other human.

I’ve been here three years and I am still getting used to it, still feeling my way around a world which is greener and wilder than anywhere I’ve ever lived before. On good days, I feel like an adventurer princess perched triumphantly in the highest turret of her rickety castle, surrounded by scattered books, pens and paper, and animals carrying messages to and fro. I am living almost exactly the life I dreamed of as a child. That’s probably why the child is coming out to play.

My child self is the biggest reason I’m writing this newsletter. Formerly slumbering beneath my breastbone, these days she has been waking up and taking over the reins. The unruly weirdness of life upsets and delights her. She looks at my ramshackle existence and tells me she is wrigglingly ecstatic to be here. It’s her voice and curiosity that keep me grateful, and honest, and writing.

My adult self is in here too, though, balancing the playfulness with concern – worry, even. We live in confusing times, in a changing world. I am not always sure how to live with both joy and care. I will continue wrestling with this.

In 2022 I left my longtime job in academia without much of a plan – which I would not wholeheartedly recommend doing, by the way, it’s far less romantic than it sounds. I did get lucky and land up here, though, after various side quests. And now I am cautiously putting down roots and awakening to a ferocious love for this slice of wilderness.

I have been a ghostwriter, transcriptionist, interpreter, and scribbler at large, with varying levels of success. I am also increasingly an amateur cook, gardener, naturalist, forest explorer and occasional singer – all of these also with varying levels of success. Success is a relative term, though. I am learning a lot. I am enjoying the learning.

Of course, as a child my imaginings never went further than this moment. I didn’t picture what I would do to make a living, only that I would inevitably have food on the table. I didn’t think about the daily business of making a relationship work, only that I would find love. I didn’t wonder what would happen if the forest creatures ate my vegetables, dug up my succulents, and took the form of palm-sized spiders perching blissfully above my bed. I didn’t worry about maintaining a work-life balance, or about how to live a creative life when placating the to-do list feels insurmountable.

I just assumed that if I ever lived in a forest, and had lots of books, and people who loved me, and cheese in my fridge, it would feel amazing. (Which it does, when I remember to pay attention.) When I pictured my future life, as a child, my daydreams always went rather blurry after the Big Events (quest + villain + romance) were concluded. I couldn’t imagine the minutiae of this life because there weren’t any stories about it. The fairy tales end when the heroes settle into their castle, never to be heard from again.

There were no children’s books (nor are there many adult ones) about the things that I am now finding out are the fun parts: Negotiating with the living world. Stewarding the slow and hazardous process from seed to flower. Learning to wait, to watch, to listen. The cautious and beautiful dances of friendship, partnership, siblinghood, citizenship. The never-ending rise and fall of existential angst and creative joy. This is where the juice of life lives, in the nuances and negotiations. This is what I want to write and talk about.

What is this?

The thing I’m making here is made up of two main parts: A newsletter and a podcast.

The newsletter feels like the backbone of the thing, where I return again and again to this question of what it is to live well. Here, expect lists of things I love, expect rants about books, expect forest rambles, expect photos of chameleons and mushrooms.

My accompanying podcast is where I chat about the things I’ve been thinking about recently but didn’t get around to writing about, a monthly round-up of sorts. Also where I sometimes have conversations with the assortment of interesting people around me. I want to bring you the extraordinary everyday, the strange and mundane wrapped up together as I see it all around me.

How can you support me?

If you like what you find here, then I invite you to subscribe to be notified of every time I publish something new. Currently this is also the best way to support me - every new reader excites and delights me.

I deeply believe in sharing our art and stories as freely as we can afford to. Therefore everything I make is free, and will continue to be.

Other than subscribing, please like, comment, and reach out to me directly with any suggestions or questions you might have – I would love for this space to become a vibrant, participatory platform where we bounce our experiences off each other and make sense of the world together.

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