The Taste of Being
A quiet reflection on attention, identity, and presence
Hi, I’m Ana. I’m a psychologist and writer exploring the inner landscapes of emotional life, especially the moments that feel messy, uncertain, or quietly transformative.
If you’re new here, welcome. Field Notes from a Psychologist’s Life is where I share poetic reflections, grounded psychology, and stories for people navigating change.
In her brilliant essay, Taste Is the New Intelligence, Stepfanie Tyler writes about the quiet power of discernment in a world where nearly everything has already been done — or could be — if only we choose it.
And that’s the key: choice.
What separates action from inertia, originality from overwhelm, isn’t just will — it’s attention. Where it’s placed. How it’s used. What we say yes or no to. In this sense, taste becomes more than personal preference; it becomes an existential skill.
It’s not just about liking or disliking something.
It’s about curating a life.
Do I spend this hour scrolling through other people’s stories, or do I read something that stirs my inner world?
Do I click on the trendiest offer, or use that same desire to create something of my own?
Taste guides us through these choices — a subtle thread weaving through the decisions that shape our days. It becomes both the origin and the result of who we are.
Society’s Taste
In today’s culture, taste is often mistaken for aesthetics. It’s coded into algorithms, trends, and the currency of image. What you wear, how your home looks, what you consume — these become signals of status and belonging. Taste is marketed to us as performance:
Have good taste, and you’ll be worthy. Desirable. Elevated.
But what if taste could be reclaimed from all that?
What if it were no longer about what you consume, but about how you choose?
“Taste is the common sense of genius.”
— Victor Hugo
→ A reminder that true taste is intuitive and soulful — not algorithmic.
My Taste, Differently
It’s interesting to see taste as a way of moving through life — a form of deep listening. A sense for what resonates with your soul, even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else.
For me, sometimes it’s instinctive — I don’t know why I love this, I just do — and I feel proud for listening to that voice inside.
Sometimes it’s shaped over time — This feels like me now, even if it didn’t before — and in that, I feel proud of my capacity to change.
And I wonder:
What if the dream life I desire already exists inside my taste — just waiting to be trusted?
I think about it in all areas of life — in my work, in motherhood, in how I arrange my closet, or when I intentionally tune into the rhythm I need that day. I think about how often we silence our taste because it doesn’t align with what’s expected — and how much we lose when we do. How much noise we end up enduring at the cost of our inner knowing.
Moments of Resonance
Lately, I’ve felt deeply the resonance of my taste — and its impact on the choices that shape my life.
I’ve just become a mother. I often feel raw, rearranged. The world hasn’t seemed to return to its rhythm — or maybe I haven’t — or maybe it never will.
I carefully prepared a home for my baby’s arrival. Not for display. Not for style. But for something quieter: a sense of groundedness, of softness, of rightness. A quiet respect for this new chapter — for myself, for my son, for this new family we’re becoming. A home that felt honourable. Full of taste — meaning, full of feels like me. Intentionality. Presence.
Perhaps that’s what creates resonance.
Many times I stood in that apartment and looked around with quiet pleasure. Not because it was perfect, but because it spoke of becoming. The green handmade tiles, the mossy rose granite, the old ceramic tiles I’d waited years to find a home for — rose-tinted, edged with green — all of it belonged, finally.
Or my tall monstera, standing proudly — my green companion from Sweden, a living memory of our last road trip south with my mother. It had traveled with me across borders and summer weather. And now, here it was, unfurling in this quiet apartment, reminding me that beauty can survive the journey.
I’ve been reminded, again and again, how everything can come together — all at once, and unexpectedly — when you follow your taste.
But here’s where I want to pause:
Taste isn’t about how your home looks.
It’s about the love you place into shaping your world — inside and out.
It’s presence, made visible.
It’s being, honoured.
It’s the resonance of noticing.
Taste as Abundance
To exercise taste, we must first recognise that we have options. That we’re not trapped in defaults. That we can choose again. Reclaim our freedom.
This awareness — this ability to choose with intention — is abundance.
Taste becomes the gentle filter we use to remove the noise.
It is a practice in meaning. In alignment. In enoughness.
Taste as Self-Respect
To be intentional about your taste is to believe that your Self is something worth tending. That your inner world carries a vibration that can be nurtured — or disrupted.
When we act in ways that honour our taste, we affirm that we are listening to ourselves. Gently. Consciously. Without fear or apology.
Taste, in this sense, is a form of self-respect.
A soft boundary.
A quiet declaration of what we are — and are not — available for.
“When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life.”
— Jean Shinoda Bolen
Practices for Cultivating Taste as Presence
If this idea speaks to you, here are a few gentle ways to begin attuning to your own taste — not as aesthetics, but as attention and self-respect:
Pause before choosing.
Whether it’s a meal, a message, or how you spend the next hour — pause. Ask: Does this resonate? Does this nourish something in me?Curate a corner.
Choose one small space in your home — a desk, a shelf, a nook — and arrange it to reflect who you are becoming. Let it hold the energy of your current self, infused with the quiet longing of what you desire.Journal your daily tastes.
Each day, jot down 1–3 things that felt aligned: a sound, a moment of stillness, a colour, a decision, a no. Begin to notice what your soul says yes to — and stand proud in your no’s.Practice mindful choosing.
When scrolling, shopping, or scheduling — pause when impulse kicks in. Can you choose from taste, rather than habit?Surround yourself with chosen things.
Let go of what’s there “by default.” Taste doesn’t mean expensive — it means yours. Chosen. Felt. Resonant.
Taste is a way back to yourself.
Not through effort or performance, but by noticing what quietly feels like home — and curating only what belongs to the energy you want to cultivate in your life.
And shaping your life — gently, attentively — from there.
yes, yes and yes. I'm definitely adding this to my routine, i loved this read. also congrats! (TO MOTHERHOOD!) ❤️