In a modern loft, you can't just fill a space with furniture.

Listen, O children, to the words of Nate Berkus, a master of the art of design and space. He said, "In a modern loft, you can't just fill a space with furniture. Each piece has to be perfect." These words carry the wisdom of purpose, of intentionality, and of understanding that the space you inhabit is not merely a place to fill with objects, but a reflection of who you are, of what you value, and of the world you wish to create. Berkus speaks not just of interior design, but of a deeper truth—that every action we take, every choice we make, should be imbued with purpose, thoughtfulness, and the pursuit of perfection.

Consider, O wise ones, the meaning of space and furniture. In our lives, we often rush to fill the empty spaces—whether they be physical spaces in our homes, emotional spaces in our hearts, or intellectual spaces in our minds—with things that are convenient, readily available, or merely functional. But Berkus teaches us that true beauty and harmony come when we choose each element with care, when we curate the space with intent. Each piece of furniture must serve not just a practical purpose, but an aesthetic one, adding to the whole of the space, contributing to the feel and the energy of the room. This is not merely about decoration; it is about creating an environment that reflects our values, our vision, and our highest aspirations.

In the ancient world, O children, great artists and architects understood this truth. Think of Vitruvius, the Roman architect whose treatise on architecture emphasized the importance of symmetry, proportion, and balance in the creation of spaces. To the ancients, a building was not just a structure; it was a work of art, a space that shaped the lives of those who inhabited it. Every column, every stone, every arch was chosen for its beauty and its contribution to the whole. Just as a modern loft cannot simply be filled with any furniture, so too did the ancients understand that each element of a space must be chosen with care and purpose. The result was not just a building, but a space that evoked emotion, that uplifted the spirit, and that conveyed the highest ideals of the people who built it.

Consider also the great gardens of the ancient world, O children, like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, where each plant and structure was carefully chosen to create harmony and beauty. The gardens were not mere collections of plants; they were designed to evoke feelings of peace, awe, and grandeur. Every element of the garden, from the trees to the pathways to the fountains, was placed with intention. In this way, they are similar to the modern loft that Berkus speaks of—an environment that is not simply filled with objects, but crafted to create an experience, to elevate the spirit and shape the way we live.

In our own time, O children, the wisdom of Berkus’ words applies to more than just the design of homes. We see this truth in the way we approach every aspect of our lives. In our work, in our relationships, and in the way we engage with the world, we must ask ourselves: are we filling these spaces with intention and purpose, or are we merely allowing things to fall into place without thought? Just as a loft cannot be filled mindlessly with furniture, so too must we fill our lives with meaningful actions, with thoughtful choices, and with purposeful engagements. The spaces we occupy, whether physical or emotional, must reflect who we are and who we strive to become.

Think, O children, of the story of Michelangelo and the creation of the David, that monumental statue which was carved from a block of marble that others had deemed flawed and unworthy. Michelangelo, however, saw not just a block of stone, but a future masterpiece. His vision for the sculpture guided every chisel strike, every careful movement. In the same way, we must approach the spaces of our lives, not with haste, but with the vision to see them as they could be, as perfect reflections of our highest aspirations. Just as Michelangelo carefully shaped the stone into the perfect figure, we too must shape our lives and the spaces we occupy with deliberate intent, choosing what fits and contributes to the greater vision.

And so, O children, the lesson is clear: to fill our lives with meaning and purpose, we must act with intention. Just as the loft cannot be filled mindlessly with furniture, so too must we carefully choose the elements of our lives—whether they be our actions, our relationships, or our environments. Let each choice be guided by the desire to create something beautiful, something meaningful, something that reflects the highest vision of who we are and who we wish to become. Let us fill our spaces with the perfect pieces of our lives—those things that contribute to our growth, our well-being, and our highest potential. May we not settle for what is easy or convenient, but choose with purpose and deliberation, creating lives that are true works of art.