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Opting out of crescendo
I’ve never liked New Year’s Eve. Except maybe in the movies (When Harry Met Sally springs to mind immediately).
There’s something about the pressure to be cheerful, celebratory, and resolved that has always felt false to me. As if burnout should be overridden by fireworks. As if reflection must be loud and hope can be summoned on command. Bah humbug.
This year, we arrived home in the late afternoon on the last day of 2025 after five days hiking the Tsitsikamma Trail. The house was in good nick after Airbnb guests, a small mercy. I unpacked, sorted, put things back in their places. The quiet competence of it all. By evening, after running four loads of laundry, I was collapsed in bed with a book, avoiding the performance and forced brightness of a night I’ve never trusted.
And honestly… that felt exactly right.

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Walking instead of performing
On the trail, days began with the dawn chorus at around five, and then, almost always, I was the first one out of camp, walking by six. I tend to walk alone most of the day, and I love that. It gives me time to pay close attention… to the Afromontane forests of epic Yellowwoods, the breathtaking fynbos clad mountains, fine textures and grand vistas, the slow companionship of nature and, inevitably, the constant prattle of my monkey mind.
There’s a particular kind of intimacy that comes from walking in nature for eight hours a day. Not striving, or improving… just moving. While attending and listening. Slowly the tight fist of survival unclenches and the merry-go-round of slights and record of who did what to whom slows to stillness.
The trail was beautiful. Really beautiful. And I’m deeply grateful that my body held me through it. A slightly unsettled tummy from all the river water, a bladder that’s still finding its way back, a good kinda tired... and no injury. No collapse. Strength still there.
That matters more than I can easily say. And is a real credit to the 5 days a week I’ve averaged at the gym in 2025. My goal for the year-that-was had been “More strolling, less scrolling.”

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The season of false cheer
This time of year asks so much of us. To gather and smile while celebrating continuity when many of us are quietly carrying rupture. To be grateful without being honest about what it costs.
I am tired of that.
Tired of pretending that endings are neat and of acting as though a calendar shift magically resolves what is unfinished.
What I want now is not fireworks, but structures that support freedom. Not performance, but truthful pacing.

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Entering the year differently
We’re stepping into 2026 — the Year of the Horse. A year associated with movement, stamina, independence, and leaving stagnant enclosures. Honestly I’m poep scared of horses (don’t come for me Noordhoek horse girls). I have ridden a few and it always felt like a tremendously risky business. Such large and willful beings should be left well enough alone in my book.
But perhaps this is a year of conditioning. Of preparing the body, work, life to be more mobile… more honest and less trapped.
I was at the gym first thing on this the first day of the year. I’m excited to return to my work. So much new course work to prepare — I have my heaviest teaching load at the University ever. And there’s the small matter of a dissertation to complete.
No grand resolutions.

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Walking on
If there’s an intention I’m carrying forward, it’s this:
I am choosing not to abandon myself anymore.
That includes my exhaustion, and ambivalence, my desire for solitude and depth.
And my need for structures that don’t demand constant self-erasure.
The trail reminded me of something simple and essential — I am still capable of sustained movement. Of walking my own way, at my own pace, attentive to what’s alive around and within me.
That feels like a good way to begin.
Walking Toward South America
In June, I’ll be traveling to Brazil (que emocionante! Um sonho de infância... como está meu português?) to present at the Domitor Conference, where I’ll be sharing work that emerges from my research into African cinema, feminist new materialisms, and indigineous ways of knowing. I’m genuinely excited about the conversations this work opens and I cannot wait to set foot on the South American continent for the very first time.
So I want to say this plainly and without embarrassment:
I’m exploring ways to extend the trip, offset costs, and ideally find paid work or collaborative opportunities while I’m there.
This might look like:
guest lectures or short teaching stints
workshops ~ embodied research methods, somatic approaches to theory, creative-academic practice
writing or reading groups
retreat-style offerings that combine movement, reflection, and theory
introductions to universities, research groups, or cultural institutions in Brazil or elsewhere in South America
advice about funding streams, residencies, or grants I might not yet know about
If you’re reading this and you’re based in South America or have networks there, or you’ve navigated academic travel funding in creative ways, or you simply have a hunch, a contact, or a possibility to share, I would love to hear from you.
I’m not looking for a single solution or a grand plan — just conversations… small openings that might weave into something sustainable.
One of the things this past year has taught me is that independence doesn’t mean doing everything alone. It means learning how to ask clearly, honestly, and in good time.
If something comes to mind, you can reply directly to this post or email me.
Sharing this could also help more than you know.
Thank you for walking alongside me, on trails literal and otherwise.




Unstoppable you! Bring it on 2026! 🌻❤️
Walking on. Waited to read this till today and it's EXACTLY what I needed. Thanks for your wisdom once again!