owl

the darker implication of the malaise is the reality that it is all by design. a few hundred years ago certain powers aligned against the people. overloading from birth to the point that it is a luxury, a privilege, to even consider the state of the world. in thinking about all of this i can't help but drown in a kind of survivor's guilt mixed with impostor syndrome— i can(t help but) think about these things when, outside my window, there's someone that's negotiating with themselves on whether to feed themselves now or pay bill later. and somewhere, someone even more educated and in an even more privileged position considers the same for me.

but at some point up that ladder i want to hope someone with some weight will think about the rest of us all the way down and throw a wrench in the system that stacked us in a vertical maze to begin with.

Highlights:

The frontier isn’t volume—it’s discernment. And in that shift, taste has become a survival skill.

Not taste in the superficial sense—not trend-chasing, not aesthetic mimicry, not expensive minimalism for the sake of status. Real taste. The kind that signals coherence. Clarity. The ability to choose what matters in a world drowning in what doesn’t.

Because when abundance is infinite, attention is everything. And what you give your attention to—what you consume, what you engage with, what you amplify—becomes a reflection of how you think.

We associate aesthetic with surface. But good taste is deep structure. It’s the throughline in someone’s life. You can see it in the design of their home, the cadence of their speech, the way they treat people, the books on their shelves.

Underneath all of this is something deeper: taste as a spiritual orientation. Not in the religious sense, but in the felt sense of alignment. Of knowing what your energy wants. Of feeling what’s harmonious and what’s out of tune.