I lived in Japan for five years after graduating university, but my relationship with the country goes back much longer. My first visit was at age six, with my mother who had lived there when she was in her twenties. Japanese culture has always been part of my life.
In traditional Japanese architecture, there is a part of the home called the Tokonoma. It’s a small alcove that usually houses a calligraphy scroll and a flower arrangement. When guests come to visit, it’s customary to seat the most senior or esteemed guest closest to the tokonoma.
I have always thought of the tokonoma as a beauty spot—a special place set aside for something artistic and pleasurable, an elevation of the norm.
I recently realized I have my own—much more casual and personal version of—tokonomas scattered around the house. And it really adds to my days.
My friend Katherine North, in her Queen Sweep class (highly recommended), likes to say that we spend most of our time staring at the same few spaces. When you think about it, it’s true. Over the years, I have found ways to put pretty things that make me happy in these spaces. It’s like leaving a little item of delight where you are likely to find it.
I’ll show you what I mean.
From where I do most of my work, my line of vision when I look up from the computer goes directly toward where I have artwork by two friends. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see creative work from people I love on a regular basis.


If I shift my view to the left slightly, I have some of my own creative work—my last three books (I’ve recently made room for the next one in the series on the right). Behind them are books by the first publisher I worked for, and above them I prop up some of my own attempts at painting.
Things take a different turn in the kitchen. On the refrigerator, exactly where my eyes land when I grab the handle to open the door, is a favorite photo of my dog that makes me smile every time I see it. Above, the child of a dear friend peeks out, while my mom and the kids in my family are jumping high in front of tulip fields to the left. There are two photos of painting things, a favorite Mary Oliver quote, a favorite photo of myself, and a Kyla Jamieson poem I absolutely love. It’s a little chaotic (like life!), but everything in this image brings me utter delight.
Perhaps my most important beauty spot is in the bathroom. I try to have a few fresh flowers or sprigs of something green on the windowsill of the bathroom (bonus points if it smells good). That windowsill is the first thing I see every day when I go to splash water on my face, and it means I start the day with a bit of beauty. (And can I tell you what a dang grownup I feel when I manage to keep fresh flowers in my house? It’s a daily self-esteem boost as well). It’s also a way to track and appreciate the seasons through the year.




My final beauty spot is when I sit at my desk, where I have a rotating gallery of cards from friends. These two are images I love from people I adore. It’s hard to be cranky when I have that to look at while I do my work.
I am sure we all do some version of this in decorating our homes—filling it with photos of loved ones or images that bring happiness. But consider tracking where your vision goes and leaving a few carefully chosen items of delight where your gaze will find them over and over again. I think we could all use more beauty spots in our lives these days.
Tokonoma hoto credit: By 663highland CC BY 2.5,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11057965
I love this post. I used to gather seashells, pine cones, and cards from friends on the kitchen window sill and fireplace mantle piece. My old cat left everything in place, but my naughty pandemic kittens knock everything to the floor. However, the kittens don’t have access to my bathroom windowsill — and on this windowsill I keep a little bowl of smooth stones, tiny cedar pine cones, acorns, and a clear glass marble. For me, these are tiny talismans of joy.