The new year often begins with pressure to become, to improve, to hustle. We’re flooded with resolutions, goal-setting, and the subtle belief that who we are now is not enough.
But this year, I’m beginning differently.
Not with a list.
Not with urgency.
But with a quiet return to self.
In Japan, there’s a concept called 侘寂 (Wabi-Sabi): the appreciation of beauty in imperfection, impermanence, and simplicity. That’s how I want to approach 2026. Not striving. Not polishing. Just allowing life and art to unfold in their honest, organic way.
Because striving feels like noise.
And I’m craving silence, space – 間 (Ma).
“Not striving. Not polishing. Just allowing life and art to unfold in their honest, organic way.”
My art this year is shifting
I’m still creating. But it’s not for a show or a deadline. It’s not for applause. It’s for me.
For healing. For clarity. For joy.
There’s something sacred in choosing to create simply because it feels right. To pick up the brush or the wool or the ink with no outcome in mind, only presence.
In Japanese, there’s a word : 渋い (Shibui) that describes a kind of quiet beauty. Not flashy, not loud. Just something understated and deeply elegant. It’s the beauty of worn linen, of handmade ceramics, of old wood that tells a story. That’s the kind of energy I want more of this year, in my art, my home, and my rhythm.
That’s where 一期一会 (Ichigo Ichie) lives. The idea that each moment, each act of creation, is unrepeatable. A once-in-a-lifetime moment worth noticing.
I want to be more inside those moments this year. I want to make art not because I have to, but because something inside me wants to speak. And I want to listen
“There’s something sacred in choosing to create simply because it feels right. To pick up the brush or the wool or the ink with no outcome in mind, only presence.”
What if we lived more like that, too?
This year, I’m inviting you to begin your life like a blank canvas. Not in panic, but in presence.
Not from pressure, but from peace.
Here are just a few ways we can all move differently:
None of these things are goals. They’re not achievements. They’re invitations.
Let the year be quiet and true
This year, I’m creating from a deeper place. My art will be softer, more inward.
More like me.
And my hope is that The Curated Life continues to hold space for you: to live with intention, to let go of striving, and to return to what feels most honest.
There is no pressure here.
Only becoming.
And beauty in all its imperfect, evolving forms.
Curator. Artist. Holistic living advocate.
I created The Curated Life as a sanctuary for intentional living. Where art, design, wellness, and soulful practices meet. With roots in both natural health and creative expression, my work is about curating not just spaces, but lives that feel deeply aligned.
Here, I share reflections, rituals, and creations that speak to the heart and heal the spirit.
This isn’t about perfection. It’s about resonance.
Welcome home.
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The new year often begins with pressure to become, to improve, to hustle. We’re flooded with resolutions, goal-setting, and the subtle belief that who we are now is not enough.
But this year, I’m beginning differently.
Not with a list.
Not with urgency.
But with a quiet return to self.
I didn’t always paint like this.
There was a time when I believed I had to get it right. That art had to be clear, representational, perfectly formed. That people needed to understand what they were looking at, or it didn’t count. That’s what I thought art was.
Until one day, it wasn’t enough.
Autumn isn’t the end. It’s the pause before the becoming.
A soft hush between seasons. A golden threshold.
Where trees let go without resistance.
Where air cools, light stretches, and we begin again. Not from scratch, but from truth.
