I always begin a room with the rug; it is literally the

Hear the words of Lee Radziwill, woman of grace and cultivator of beauty: “I always begin a room with the rug; it is literally the foundation of the space. I then go on to the furniture.” At first, these words seem to belong to the world of design, a simple instruction in the ordering of a home. Yet within them lies a wisdom far deeper: that all things, whether a dwelling, a life, or a nation, must begin with a foundation. For without the base, the structure falters; without the grounding, the higher forms lose their meaning.

The rug, humble yet powerful, anchors the room. It gives warmth beneath the feet, gathers the eye, and sets the tone for everything above it. So too in life, the unseen foundations determine the strength of all that follows. One may place fine furniture, hang noble art, fill the air with music, but if the ground beneath is barren, the beauty will not last. The foundation of the space—whether in a room or in a soul—is the first and greatest necessity.

History bears witness to this truth. When the builders of great cathedrals in Europe began their work, they did not start with soaring towers or glittering windows. They began with stone laid deep into the earth, foundations strong enough to endure centuries. Without this, no spire could rise, no light could pour through stained glass. In like manner, Radziwill reminds us that even the art of living begins not with grandeur, but with the grounding choice—the rug, the principle, the base upon which all else rests.

Her words are also a metaphor for identity. In a world that rushes to adorn itself with furniture—titles, possessions, appearances—few take the time to choose the rug, the true foundation of self. But the wise know that if the base is chosen well—integrity, kindness, discipline—then all else can be placed in harmony. If the base is neglected, chaos follows. Just as a mismatched rug unsettles a room no matter the furniture, so a weak foundation of character unsettles even the most dazzling life.

Consider the founding of nations. The United States began not with leaders rushing to fill offices or decorate halls of power, but with a constitution, a foundation of law. Though flawed and incomplete, it provided the ground upon which generations could build. And though the furniture of politics has changed, it is the foundation that has endured, anchoring the space of the republic. Here again Radziwill’s wisdom shines: all things lasting must begin with what lies beneath.

The lesson for us is clear: do not rush to fill your life with furniture before you have chosen your rug. Ask yourself what your foundation is—what values, what vision, what principles will anchor you when storms come. Only then should you add the ornaments, the pursuits, the achievements. For without a grounding base, these things scatter like leaves in the wind. With it, they align and flourish.

Therefore, O seekers of wisdom, heed the counsel hidden in the art of design: begin with the foundation. In your home, in your work, in your life, choose first what grounds you. Let it be strong, let it be true, and let all else flow from it. For the rug anchors the room, the principle anchors the soul, and the foundation anchors the destiny of all that is built upon it.