Your surroundings have a profound impact on your physical and emotional wellbeing.

Take a moment and look around. Everything you see has been designed. And whether your conscious of it or not, it’s shaping how you feel, think, and even act. The systems, spaces, and objects of our built environment make up the bulk of our lived experience. Coming to this understanding and realization was a major unlock for me — especially in a culture that often struggles to assign meaning or agree on what actually matters.

But it can be overwhelming. We’re often surrounded by arbitrary, unnecessary things that add little (or nothing) to our lives. So how do we live more consciously in the present? How do we reduce clutter and distraction, reclaim some time, and create a bit more space to think and breathe? Part of the answer lies in learning to choose products that serve us, not the other way around.

We’ve reached a critical moment as a species occupying this planet. Indifference is no longer an option. Every decision, large or small, ripples outward — affecting our personal lives, our communities, and the environment we share. The way we create and consume must change. Knowing where to begin isn’t always obvious. I think it starts with simply consuming less, and continues with the practice of consuming better.

For years, I’ve been exploring our relationship with everyday objects — how we use them, how they make us feel, and how to recognize the qualities that support better living. My curiosity doesn’t stop at the object itself; these things are inseparable from the people and processes behind them. From anonymous, archetypal tools to singular objects designed and made by one pair of hands, our days are filled with artifacts from countless perspectives. Everything has a story.

What I plan to share here is an ongoing record of discovering, researching, and living with objects that embody what the designer Jasper Morrison calls “long-term beauty” — things that add value to our lives by showing up when we need them, and quietly stepping back when we don’t.

Take something as ordinary as a pair of scissors. Maybe you bought them a few months ago and use them fairly often. By now, you’ve probably forgotten what they cost and maybe even where they came from. But consciously or not, you’ve formed opinions about them: how well they work for certain tasks, how they feel in your hand, whether you enjoy using them at all, and perhaps even whether you appreciate them simply for existing.

Are they comfortable to hold?

Are they pleasant to look at?

Do they cut cleanly?

Will they last — and work well — for decades, or just a few years?

These qualities aren’t always obvious at the moment of purchase, especially when a household item is bought out of necessity. We humans use tools. It’s what we do! Still, on some level, we sense whether an object is a thoughtful, well-considered solution or just another thing. These small, daily interactions (good or bad) accumulate. They shape our spaces, influence our experiences, and quietly guide how we move through the world. ●