When Stillness Creates Space

A Week of Writing at Wildnest

Some weeks remind you why you created a place in the first place.

This past week at Wildnest was one of those.

Mawunyo came to stay with us while writing her debut novel. When we first spoke, we talked through our structured writers’ retreat which includes a clear schedule, structured sessions, shared meals and momentum. But very quickly it became clear that this wasn’t what she needed.

What she was really looking for was simplicity.

A place to turn up with nothing to manage.

Meals taken care of.

No decisions to make.

No Wi-Fi.

Just time, space and quiet.

And importantly, the freedom to write.

So we did something we haven’t done before.

We stripped it right back.

Mawunyo stayed in one of our luxury tents, surrounded by nature, with no internet and no distractions. Each day she wrote from the tent, letting the rhythm of the light, the heat and the sounds of the valley shape her work. Breakfast, lunch and dinner were prepared for her, and she’d come over to the house to eat which became a gentle break from solitude, a chance to sit at the table with Peter and me, talk, laugh, and just be human for a while.

The dogs quickly decided she was part of the family, and made it their mission to keep her entertained or in the quieter moments, just company.

It became a rhythm for us all that felt surprisingly natural.

We had hot days, the kind of 40-degree heat where tents aren’t usually designed for sitting at the table all day, so we adapted. The house became part of the experience. Air-conditioned meals. A quiet room with a desk when she needed it. A place she could move between, without pressure or expectation.

And what struck me most was how much the small things mattered.

Mawunyo shared that having nourishing, thoughtfully prepared food made a real difference to her focus and productivity. That resonated deeply with me as it’s something I’ve believed in since my corporate event days: food doesn’t just fuel bodies, it supports clarity, creativity and energy. Putting together her menu became a joy, and it gently nudged us to eat better this week too.

There was another layer to this stay that we held quietly.

Mawunyo had recently lost her dad. This time away wasn’t just about writing, it was also about grief. About having permission to sit with it, without noise or obligation. Wildnest gave her space to do that privately, gently, and in her own way.

Reading the words she later left in our guest book stopped me in my tracks. She wrote about feeling welcomed, held, and cared for. About the stillness. About the way the space supported her work and her wellbeing. It’s one of those notes you keep, because it captures something you hoped people might feel but can’t ever force.

This week has changed how I see what’s possible at Wildnest.

We can be more than a weekend escape.

More than a couple of nights away.

Wildnest can be a sanctuary. For writers, thinkers, creatives, leaders, and anyone needing time to sit with big ideas or quiet feelings. Whether you’re writing a book, mapping strategy, or simply listening for what’s next, there is something powerful about removing noise and letting nature do what it does best.

This was a first.

But it won’t be the last.