We live in a culture that treats beauty like a luxury.

A bonus.
An indulgence.
Something you add after the “important” things are handled.

But your nervous system does not experience beauty as decoration.

It experiences it as safety.

Beauty is not superficial.
It is regulatory.

And if you’ve been feeling burnt out, overstimulated, disconnected, or quietly numb — the absence of beauty in your environment may be part of the story.

There is a version of leadership that is loud.

You know the type I mean? Needing people to feel small and quiet, so they can feel big and important.

Got them pictured in your mind?

Good.

The leadership style is productivity-driven.
Always available.
Always on.

Guaranteed to be always dysregulated.

And then there is the kind of leadership that actually sustains a life.

The kind that understands that the nervous system is not separate from the boardroom, or that your home is not separate from your strategy. That your body is not separate from your performance.

This is the leadership I am interested in.

Not leadership as performance.
Leadership as integration.

I have always prioritised having a beautiful home.
That’s never been the problem.

As an interior designer, creating calm, intentional spaces has been second nature to me for years.

My home has always been thoughtful, styled, organised - somewhere people walked into and immediately said, “Wow, it feels so peaceful here.”

And yet… I didn’t always feel peaceful.

What I noticed - long before I had language for trauma-informed somatic work or neuroaesthetics - was how deeply my body reacted to visual mess.

Helping everyone else rest taught me how little I was listening to my own body.

A few years ago, my work was all about creating calm, restful homes for other people. I helped clients from all walks of life — leaders of companies, kibbutz dwellers, friends, and family. My job was to help them feel rest and peace at home, through beauty, organisation, redesigning layouts, and choosing aesthetics that supported calm.

And I was so good at it! It made me happy.

Except… It wasn’t proving peace and calm for myself. I painted every inch of my home, curated every detail, and was intentional about every choice — all while my family grew around me.

I thought I was resting. Weekends off. Screen-free evenings. Holidays… sometimes. But I never felt restored. My energy stayed low. My mind constantly buzzed. My body remained tense. I didn’t realise it, but my nervous system was running on overdrive — and all the “rest” in the world couldn’t fix it.

It took hitting burnout to notice.