Last Updated on October 11, 2026 by Michelle
Why a beautiful life isn’t necessarily the most expensive one, but the one filled with things that mean something to us.
My Latest Project: Turning My Home Into a Gallery
I’ve recently become rather excited about a new project.
I want to turn my home into something that feels like an art gallery.
Not a cold, intimidating gallery where everything is perfectly arranged and nobody dares to touch anything.
I want a home filled with beautiful, colourful art. Lush greenery. Interesting objects. Thoughtfully arranged spaces.
Something with the aesthetic of a modern gallery, but the warmth of a home that has been lived in and loved.
I’ve been looking at original paintings by Korean and Japanese artists. I’ve contacted two galleries to find out where I might see their work in person. I’m planning gallery visits during my upcoming travels to Seoul and Tokyo.
I’ve also started experimenting with plants around the house, inspired by the lush, relaxed atmosphere of my favourite cafes.
I imagine walking into my living room and seeing a large, colourful painting that immediately lifts my mood.
Or sitting at my dining table, surrounded by greenery, enjoying a cup of coffee.
I can already picture how I want the space to feel.
And that feeling excites me.
But something interesting happened as I started thinking about the art I wanted to bring into my home.
I realised that two of the paintings I’m most looking forward to owning might not come from a gallery at all.
They might come from my daughter.
The Two Paintings That Will Probably Make Me Smile Every Day
My husband bought a pair of Swarovski crystal characters a few years ago.
They’re the cutest little alien-looking boy and girl, with the funniest facial expressions.
Every time I look at them, I smile.
There’s something about their expressions that makes me laugh. They’re quirky, playful and completely unlike the kind of sophisticated art I had been researching for my home.
And I love them.
So I asked my daughter whether she could paint the two characters for me.
I want to hang her paintings somewhere in our home, side by side.
I’m already looking forward to watching her interpret the characters in her own way.
What colours will she choose?
How will she capture those funny expressions?
Will she make them even more playful?
And where should I hang them?
Perhaps somewhere I’ll see them first thing in the morning. Or somewhere I pass several times a day.
I can imagine walking past those paintings years from now and still smiling.
Not only because the characters are funny.
But because my husband chose them, my daughter painted them, and together they became something that belongs uniquely to our family.
I may eventually spend a significant amount of money on original artworks.
And I expect those paintings will bring me genuine pleasure.
But I suspect these two paintings by my daughter will mean something different.
Their value won’t come from the reputation of the artist.
It won’t come from their resale value.
It won’t come from whether somebody else thinks they’re beautiful.
Their value will come from the life behind them.
And that thought has made me reflect on what it really means to create a life you love living.
What Makes a Beautiful Life?
When we think about creating a beautiful life, it’s easy to think about the things we might want to acquire.
A beautiful home.
A lovely holiday.
A designer handbag.
A piece of art.
A wonderful meal.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting beautiful things.
I certainly appreciate beauty, thoughtful design and quality.
I love staying in beautiful hotels. I enjoy thoughtfully designed cafés. I appreciate the atmosphere created by flowers, art, lighting and interesting objects.
But increasingly, I’m realising that there are different kinds of beauty.
There’s beauty we admire.
And there’s beauty that means something to us.
Sometimes they overlap.
Sometimes they don’t.
An expensive painting may be extraordinary to look at, yet evoke very little personal emotion.
A simple painting by someone we love may make us smile every single day.
Neither needs to diminish the other.
But perhaps we should pay more attention to the second kind.
Because when I think about how to create a life I love living, I don’t simply want my surroundings to look beautiful.
I want them to make me feel something.
Joy.
Warmth.
Amusement.
Comfort.
Gratitude.
A sense of belonging.
I want to feel that the space reflects the people, experiences and things I genuinely love.
Not simply what looks impressive to somebody else.
Designing for Everyday Joy, Not Just Special Occasions
One of the things I’ve been thinking about through BYORM is how much attention we give to extraordinary experiences.
We plan holidays months in advance.
We look forward to birthdays, anniversaries and celebrations.
We imagine the restaurants we’ll visit, the hotels we’ll stay in and the places we’ll explore.
I enjoy all of those things.
Anticipation is one of the great pleasures of life.
But how much time do we spend thinking about the quality of our ordinary days?
The Tuesday mornings.
The quiet Sunday afternoons.
The evenings when we’re simply at home.
Most of our lives are made up of ordinary days.
And yet we sometimes reserve our greatest attention, effort and resources for the occasional extraordinary one.
My home gallery project has made me think about this differently.
I’m not redecorating for a special occasion.
I’m not preparing my house for an important visitor.
I’m creating a space that I hope will give me pleasure every day.
I want to look up from my coffee and see something beautiful.
I want to walk past a painting and smile.
I want greenery that makes the room feel alive.
I want little objects that remind me of the people I love.
These may seem like small things.
But when something brings us joy repeatedly, perhaps it isn’t so small after all.
What if one of the most effective ways to improve our quality of life is to make our ordinary days more enjoyable?
Not by constantly adding extraordinary experiences.
But by paying attention to the moments we experience again and again.
Intentional Living Begins With Noticing What Makes Us Happy
I think there’s an important difference between creating a beautiful life and creating a life that looks beautiful.
A life that looks beautiful can be curated for other people’s eyes.
A life that feels beautiful must be designed for our own experience.
And that requires us to know ourselves.
What genuinely makes us happy?
What makes us feel peaceful?
What brings a smile to our faces?
What do we enjoy seeing, hearing, touching or experiencing every day?
These sound like simple questions.
But I’m not sure we always spend enough time answering them.
We can become very good at knowing what is fashionable, desirable or admired.
We know which hotels are considered luxurious.
Which brands are prestigious.
Which neighbourhoods are desirable.
Which artworks are valuable.
But knowing what other people value isn’t quite the same as knowing what brings us joy.
My home gallery is teaching me something about my own preferences.
I love large, colourful paintings.
I love greenery.
I love the contrast between clean, modern architecture and playful objects.
I love art that makes me feel something.
And apparently, I also love two funny little alien-looking characters enough to ask my daughter to paint them.
That combination might not make sense to an interior designer.
But it makes perfect sense to me.
Perhaps that’s what intentional living looks like in practice.
Not choosing what we’re supposed to love, but becoming more attentive to what we actually love.
The Difference Between Buying Something and Giving It Meaning
I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with buying expensive things.
Money can buy beautiful art, comfortable homes, wonderful experiences and quality craftsmanship.
And when we have worked hard to create financial freedom, it’s perfectly reasonable to enjoy some of what that freedom makes possible.
But money alone cannot determine whether something will be meaningful to us.
Meaning often comes from the story attached to an object.
A photograph from a family holiday.
A handwritten note.
A piece of furniture inherited from a parent.
A painting created by a child.
A book that changed how we think.
Or a pair of funny crystal characters that made us laugh.
Sometimes meaning is already there.
Sometimes we create it.
And sometimes it develops over years of living with something.
I imagine the paintings my daughter creates will become more meaningful to me as time passes.
Today, they’ll remind me of this particular moment in our family life.
Ten years from now, they may remind me of who my daughter was when she painted them.
Twenty years from now, perhaps they’ll bring back memories of our home, our conversations and the life we shared.
The paintings themselves may not change.
But the meaning attached to them will continue to grow.
That’s something an expensive price tag cannot guarantee.
How to Create a Life You Love Living
As I think about designing the second half of my life, I’m increasingly convinced that intentional living isn’t only about making big decisions.
Where will I live?
When will I retire?
How much money will I need?
What work will I do?
Those questions matter enormously.
But perhaps we should also ask smaller questions.
What would make my mornings more enjoyable?
What kind of surroundings make me feel most at home?
What objects carry memories I want to keep close?
What small experiences would I happily repeat hundreds of times?
What would make an ordinary Tuesday feel a little more wonderful?
I don’t think the answers need to be expensive.
For one person, it might be a garden she has spent years cultivating.
For another, a reading corner filled with favourite books.
It might be fresh flowers on the dining table.
A favourite piece of music while preparing breakfast.
A weekly family dinner.
A beautiful cup used for morning coffee.
Or two paintings of funny characters, created by someone you love.
The point isn’t to fill our lives with more things.
It’s to become more deliberate about what we choose to surround ourselves with, and why.
Perhaps the question isn’t simply, What do I want to own?
Perhaps it’s:
What do I want to experience more often in my everyday life?
And then:
What can I create, change or introduce today that would make that experience more likely?
A Well-Designed Life Should Feel Good From the Inside
There’s something else I want to remember as I continue this project.
My house doesn’t need to become a perfect gallery.
In fact, I don’t want it to.
I want beautiful art, certainly.
But I also want humour.
Personality.
Memories.
A little unpredictability.
Things that make sense to nobody except us.
I want visitors to enjoy the space, but their admiration isn’t the purpose of the project.
The purpose is to make our home somewhere we genuinely love spending time.
Somewhere the surroundings quietly contribute to our happiness.
And I think the same principle applies to the way we design our lives.
A well-designed life isn’t necessarily one that looks impressive from the outside.
It doesn’t need to have the most prestigious career, the most extraordinary holidays, the largest house or the most enviable possessions.
Those things may bring us joy, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
But they’re not the only measures of a good life.
What matters is how our lives feel to us, on the inside, on an ordinary day.
Do we enjoy the people around us?
Do we like the spaces we inhabit?
Are there things in our daily routines that we look forward to?
Do we have opportunities to laugh?
Do we feel connected to the life we’re living?
And are we deliberately making room for more of what makes us happy?
What Would Make You Smile Every Day?
I haven’t yet purchased all the paintings for my home gallery.
I haven’t decided exactly where every artwork will go.
My daughter hasn’t painted the two Swarovski characters yet.
There’s still much to do.
But I’m enjoying imagining what our home might become.
Not because I want it to look like somebody else’s beautiful house.
But because I’m beginning to see how it could become a more joyful expression of our own life.
And perhaps that’s the question I’d like to leave you with.
What is one thing you could bring into your everyday life that would make you smile?
Not something impressive.
Not something that would look good on social media.
Not something that would make other people think you’ve succeeded.
Just something that would make you genuinely happy.
Something you would enjoy on a completely ordinary Tuesday.
Ten years from now, I may not remember what every painting in my home cost.
But I imagine I’ll still look at those two funny characters, painted by my daughter, and smile.
Perhaps that’s one way to recognise a life well designed.
Not by how impressive it looks to somebody else.
But by how often it quietly makes us happy to be living it.
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