We sat down with Carla Leske, packaging designer and self-proclaimed romantic, to talk about the rituals, relationships and embodied practices that shape her life and creative work.
In our conversation, she reflects on designing a life led by the senses, the wisdom of the body, and how illness reshaped her relationship with self-care, presence and devotion. From yoga and meditation to boundaries, beauty and shared tables, Carla offers a rich, poetic perspective on what it means to live fully, listen deeply, and stay rooted in what truly matters.
—10 minute read
To begin, can you tell us a bit about yourself and what life looks like for you at the moment:
I’m a diehard romantic with a serious soft spot for anything beautiful. You can count on me to stop and smell the roses. If it smells divine, packs a visual punch, or sounds like it was handcrafted by musical gods, I’m in. Beauty doesn’t just catch my eye; it wakes me up, ignites me, and reminds me I’m alive.
Whether I’m cooking, playing music, or strolling through nature, I try to stay fully present. That’s probably why I’m drawn to design. I’m a packaging designer, but for me, it’s not about pretty boxes and sleek fonts (though don’t get me wrong, I love that too). It’s about capturing something timeless, creating pieces that feel like love letters to the senses. Right now, I’m in full curator-of-my-own-life mode. I believe in designing a life that feels as good as it looks, built on strong foundations, small rituals, and everyday magic.
What is it that makes you feel alive?
Anything that wakes up my senses and drops me into the NOW. Slow sips of beauty, the scent of jasmine rising in the balmy spring air, books that crack my brain open, listening to something that makes me feel, mind-bending conversations, dancing in a hypnotic trance, nature in all her wild glory, seeing my little prince Romeo (dog) do zoomies for no apparent reason, cruising on my bike to my new favourite song, naked dips in the almighty salty sea. It’s the small things that slam my day awake with a bright, undeniable spark.
And then there’s yoga, my anchor. It’s where I go to listen.. to really listen. Not just to my thoughts, but to what my body is storing, holding, processing. I sink into the flesh, because let’s be real: the body doesn’t lie. While my mind loves to overanalyse every damn thing, my body is where the truth quietly lives. It knows when something’s off before my brain catches on. Pain and pleasure.. They’re not just experiences; they’re portals. Clues. Invitations. My body murmurs like some cheeky little oracle,
letting me know what my soul is ready to shed, or draw close in.
People. That’s my heart’s electricity. Give me a table full of beautiful humans, plates overflowing, beats blasting in the background, laughter spilling into candlelight, and I’m in heaven. That kind of shared nourishment is pure bliss. Everyone carries a story, a lesson, a little piece of gold waiting to be seen. Connection enriches my world. I’m here for the real stuff, the raw stuff, the soul-level exchanges.
How has your relationship with your body changed over time?
I went from taking my health for granted, to losing it entirely, to rising from the ashes and reclaiming it with reverence. What once felt like a burden now feels like a blessing.
This body of mine...it’s a divine instrument; embodied, sacred, and wise as hell. But I didn’t arrive here easily. I had to walk through the fire of chronic illness and autoimmunity, told I’d never heal, that I’d be stuck in that story forever. But here I stand now, no longer carrying the label of “autoimmune.” I am living proof that the body is never working against us, rather it’s always working for us. The body speaks in layers: first a whisper, then a nudge and then a scream. Whether it shows up as IBS, a skin flare, or chronic fatigue, it’s what I call soul stress made physical.
So much of our illness is unprocessed emotion, energy that has nowhere to go. But we’ve been taught to suppress, to numb, to reach for quick-fixes instead of pausing to ask, “What is this really trying to tell me?”
In my teens and early twenties, I viewed my body through a lens of criticism, constantly comparing, tweaking, trying to improve. Now I see the body for what it truly is, my temple. A fleeting but powerful vessel for expression, emotion, pleasure, purpose. I honour her like she’s holy, because she is.
These days I no longer view self-care as self-indulgence, I see it as devotion. A massage isn’t luxury, it’s a form of self affection. Spending money on wholesome food, steamy saunas, expansive workshops, isn’t excess—it’s an investment in the very home I live in. It’s me saying, I’ve got you. And that’s the most loving thing I’ve learned to say.
What would you say is the first step for someone who is struggling, physically or psychologically?
First things first, feel the damn thing. Pain is not the enemy. Whether it’s physical, emotional, or that weird existential ache you can’t quite name, the most powerful thing you can do is acknowledge it. Don’t run. Don’t numb. Just say: “Okay, I see you.” That awareness alone is a portal.
The next step would be to tune into the body. If someone tells me they’ve got an earache, my first question is, “What aren’t you listening to?” The body is not random..it’s acutely aware. Every ache, every flare-up, every inconvenient little twinge is a breadcrumb. A physical manifestation of something deeper trying to break through. I don’t buy into coincidences. I think there is a divine hand at play. I believe the body is the subconscious made visible. Our inner world always finds a way to speak.
After you’ve acknowledged the pain, sit with it. Potentially journal about it. Meditate on it. Ask the pain what it wants you to know. Then go find some support, whether that’s a book that lights a fire under you, a therapist who can hold you through the shadows, a podcast that makes you feel seen, or a teacher who reminds you that healing isn’t linear, but it is possible. Feeling understood is a medicine in itself.
To me, pain is communication. It is the unveiling of wisdom disguised as discomfort. It’s not here to ruin you, it’s here to reveal something to you. And now that I have learnt to develop a real, nuanced language with my limbs, to speak with it, not just about it, everything shifted. Because truthfully, we’ve been taught to sedate instead of investigate—pop a pill, push through, keep going. But if you keep silencing the messenger, don’t be surprised when the messenger shoots the sheriff for attention. Listening is a sacred skill. And it can take many forms. For me, it’s yoga. It’s a committed daily meditation practice. It’s dancing until something stuck inside me finally moves. It’s writing when the thoughts get too loud in my head. But for someone else it might be surfing, breathing, or sipping tea in stillness and letting the answers rise. There’s no one right way… there is only your way (that works for you).
It took me a lot of exploration for me to find my anchor outlets, which have now embedded themselves as daily rituals. So my advice if you’re struggling would be to start by tuning in. Get curious, not judgmental. Your pain isn’t a punishment, even though it sometimes it feels like it.. It’s also a guide. And when you learn to listen, that’s where the real alchemy begins.
So when an ailment presents itself, you inquire into what's happening, how am you're feeling, what's happening within your psyche, your mind?
Absolutely. That kind of inquiry is essential. You’ve got to get radically real with yourself and you’ve got to listen.
For me, that’s what yoga and meditation are all about. They unplug my ears and soften the static. It’s like hearing my inner-world clearly for the first time. It’s not always pretty, but it’s honest. That stillness is where I devote myself to saying: I’m here. I’m listening. Even to the parts I’d rather ignore. And that, to me, is a form of self-worship. Creating time to just be with yourself. To sit with all the messy, recycled stories the mind loves to loop. To notice which thoughts nourish you and which ones are quietly wrecking you from the inside out.
And honestly, one of the most underrated superpowers in the world is the ability to calm your own nervous system. To know the ground beneath you might be shaking but you’ve got yourself rooted. Steady. Anchored like the roots of an old wise tree. That’s empowerment.
Meditation is how I keep my autoimmune condition at bay. Once a day, sometimes twice, I carve out that space. It’s my reset. My tune-in. My tap out. My spiritual housekeeping. It clears the noise, swipes the clutter, and helps me take out the emotional trash before it piles up. That silence is where healing happens. Every. Single. Time.
What have your relationships—romantic, platonic, professional, familial—taught you about yourself?
I believe my relationships are the purest and truest reflection of who I am. They’re my mirrors, my medicine, my greatest teachers. They show me my light, they show me my shadow and they are, without a doubt, the greatest triumphs of my life. When I look around at the people I love, I feel this deep sense of soul-rooted pride that says, “We found each other in this big, chaotic world and that means something.”
I feel fortunate to have such a plethora of wonderful humans surrounding me. When I’m moving through something, whether it’s physical pain or emotional upheaval, my friends and family are the ones who pour fuel back into me. They remind me of my power when I forget. They reflect back the parts of me I sometimes lose sight of. And the people I’m drawn to...they inspire the hell out of me. They stretch me, challenge me, teach me. I crave effortless and playful banter seasoned in depth, truth and expansion.
To me, that’s real wealth in life. That’s abundance. Authentic, nourishing relationships. The kind where presence is the currency and love is the return. My mum always said, “Your tombstone won’t list your bank balance. Your legacy will be how deeply you loved, how you showed up, and how many lives you touched.” And I carry that with me every day and I suppose in a way, that’s how I measure success.
Are there any practices that support you in maintaining healthy relationships?
For me, it starts and ends with presence. Being fully there with someone, not half-scrolling, half-listening, but showing up attentively. And just as important is knowing when not to show up. Knowing when to say no. That, for me, has been the deeper work lately. Learning to build boundaries that don’t just protect my energy, but honour it.
I’ve been asking myself more often: What’s my truth at this moment? What do I actually need right now? I’m a natural people-pleaser. It comes from a place of deep care, but it can also turn into self-abandonment if I’m not conscious. I’ve caught myself giving from an empty cup, offering energy I didn’t really have, and wondering why I felt so drained.
The answer, every time, is a lack of boundaries. And if I’m honest, I’m still learning. I feel like I’m in kindergarten some days, figuring it out, fumbling forward. But the biggest awakening has been this: boundaries aren’t walls, they’re acts of self-respect. And when they’re expressed with clarity and kindness, the people who truly love you won’t just accept them, they’ll honour them too.
What does a meaningful life look like to you?
What really lights me up…the good stuff; enriching connections, creating, entertaining, chasing passions that make my heart race, feeling grounded in my body, learning, getting curious with myself, exploring diverse cultures, and soaking up nature like it’s medicine (because it is).
I’m trying my best to unsubscribe from the whole “more, more, more” mentality. I’m not here to be sold a constant upgrade. I’m here to live my life fully, not endlessly consume. That endless chase can be exhausting and so unfulfilling. Gratitude is the real flex. I feel rich when I look around and see my health, my family, my friends, my access to things I once took for granted, nature, safety, freedom, fine textures, sexy flavours, intoxicating scents, a healthy body that lets me move through the world. That’s the kind of wealth I’m building: full-hearted, well-fed, present AF.
What are some of the resources or tools you use to help you through challenging times?
When the going gets tough, my secret sauce is all about connecting with the holy trinity: Mind, Body, Spirit. I know, it sounds like a wellness cliché, but I think it’s the real deal. When those three are in sync, you’re not just surviving, you’re thriving. When you’re out of balance...it’s like a single cracked note in a song, throwing off the whole harmony and leaving everything feeling just a little off. So when there is stress in the mind, your body feels it. When your spirit tunes out, the whole world feels out of sync. So, I’ve got a toolbox to keep all three nourished and aligned.
Mind: Meditation is my go-to. It’s like a truth serum for the soul. Deep listening, letting whatever’s brewing inside rise up so I can see it clearly and then release. It’s the ultimate emotional detox, helping me spot those sneaky thought loops and ask, "Are these thoughts supporting my growth, or keeping me stuck in the same story?"
Body: Yoga, running, cycling. The holy trifecta for my physical outlet. Once my mind has unpacked its baggage, my body needs its turn. Because the body remembers. I check in: "Am I treating you with respect? Do you feel energised or drained?"
Spirit: This one’s the wild card, your inner-compass, your connection to something bigger. Your intuition. For me, it’s nature walks, tarot cards, mantras, lighting candles, clearing the space with scents and sometimes whispering prayers to my little altar of beautiful things. I ask myself: "How do I really feel? Am I connected to myself, to others, to something greater? Am I feeling the magic?"
Here’s the truth: we’re not just minds, or bodies, or spirits—we’re all of it. It’s a full system deal. So if you want to feel whole, you’ve got to play in all three corners of that sacred geometric shape...the triangle.
What would you tell your younger self if you could go back in time?
If I could speak to my younger self, I’d say:
1) BE KIND TO YOUR MIND.
2) The world is your oyster now go get them pearls.
There’s so much magic waiting out there. Sometimes it’s the grit, the struggle, that shapes the pearl, rough edges and all but in the end, it shines. Be curious. Explore with an open heart. Follow what makes you come alive. Love fiercely. And never let fear lead your steps.
What are you excited about for the future?
What am I excited about for the future? Honey, I’m buzzing to discover it all. Life’s got its cards close to the chest, and I’m here for every surprise. There’s a saying in India “sab kuch milega” which means anything is possible. And I’m ready to see just how far that “anything” can stretch.
Somewhat recently, the trajectory of my life took another shape, so I’m still kind of navigating what the ‘future’ looks like. In the meantime I’m indulging in new places, new faces, new flavours waiting to dance on my tongue - I’m here for it. The countries I’ll wander, the mountains I’ll climb, the seas I’ll dive into, the work I'll create, and the conversations that will crack open new worlds…I’m all in.
The unknown...it’s a little terrifying, a little electric, a wild, thrilling ride. I don’t have the map, and I guess that’s the point. Right now, I’m just showing up, present in this moment. The horizon—it’s glowing, a diamond in the sky, vast and endless. And I’m sprinting towards the front row, ready to watch that sun dip in all its glory.