Discoveries #23 | Japan & The Art of Living Deliberately

Welcome to Edition 23 of Discoveries where I share inspiration on design, product building, and what's next.

Japan & The Art of Living Deliberately

I just got back from Japan and I already miss it.

This was my third trip, which officially puts me in the “I now have opinions about corner store cuisine” phase of travel. Somehow, every visit gets better.

Not better in a flashy way. Better in a quiet, precise, deeply considered way.

Japan does not rush you. It does not shrug at you. It does not interact with you like you are interrupting its day.

Japan handles your receipt with two hands and bows to it.

Which sounds dramatic until you experience it. Then you realize it is not about the receipt. It is about respect. It is about intention. It is about living like the small things are not actually small.

Here is a tiny moment that says everything.

At a 7-Eleven convenience store, the clerk printed my receipt. He held it carefully with both hands, made gentle eye contact, bowed slightly, and then passed it to me like it was a meaningful object that deserved dignity.

Fast forward to when I returned from my trip at the San Francisco airport. I ordered a burrito. When it was ready, the clerk mumbled something that may have been my name and then launched the bag down the counter toward me like he was skipping a stone across a lake.

The contrast was brutal and weirdly profound. Because Japan is deliberate in a way that feels almost spiritual. You feel it everywhere.

Not in a loud “look how fancy we are” way. In a quiet “we cared about this even though no one was watching” way.

Some things that stood out:

I did not smell anything bad. Anywhere. Not in subways. Not in alleyways. Not in bathrooms. I do not know how they did this but I am convinced there is a secret national fragrance council.

The streets are so clean you could eat off them. I did not. But I could have.

Everyone has craft pride. The person working at 7-Eleven moves with the same seriousness as a Michelin-star chef. There is dignity in every role. No job feels like a placeholder life.

Japan borrows from other cultures and then quietly perfects them. Pizza. Jazz bars. Denim. Christmas markets. They take the best parts, refine them, and somehow return them to you better than the original.

Christmas in Tokyo is unreal. We went to a German-themed Christmas market that felt like someone studied Europe under a microscope and then rebuilt it with higher resolution textures.

People dress well. There is a uniform for everything. School. Office. Worksite. Cafe. Every outfit feels intentional. No one is dressed like they lost a bet.

There are rules posters everywhere. It is not oppressive. It is clarifying. You do not get an orderly society without excellent SOPs and polite enforcement.

Interior spaces are dialed. Lighting. Sound. Smell. Everything feels considered. Nothing feels accidental.

Tokyo might have the highest standard of living of any city I have visited. I asked a few Japanese founder friends why they moved from Tokyo to San Francisco. They said because life in Tokyo is so comfortable that it can dull your hunger to build something harder. What a problem to have.

Everything has a mascot. Brands. Train stations. Government agencies. At first I thought it was ridiculous. By the end of the trip I was actively hunting mascots like Pokémon.

On a past visit, two adorable mascots stopped me in a train station. We took photos together. I later learned they were promoting awareness about illegal immigration. Lol.

Underneath all of this is the real lesson.

Good design is not about style. It is about care.

To make something feel simple, you have to fight through enormous complexity. To make something feel calm, you have to obsess over details no one will consciously notice. To make people feel respected, you have to design systems that treat small moments like they matter.

Japan does this everywhere.

In food. In transit. In customer service. In public space. In how they treat elders. In how they handle your receipt.

It all adds up to a society that feels quietly dignified. Which leads to my biggest takeaway.

Living deliberately.

Care about the small things. Handle your work with two hands. Design for people who will never thank you. Build systems that make life smoother for strangers you will never meet.

Because the small stuff is actually the whole thing.

In the last newsletter, I mentioned my CCA class was heading into final presentations. They delivered.

Here is a quick teaser of the work from this year.

Here's a few of my favorite things from 2025:

Favorite Books

Favorite Music

Favorite Devices

Favorite Hotels

Other Finds

When life starts to feel loud, I come back to this simple frame. What is in my control, and what is not. It has quietly reshaped how I handle stress more than any productivity system ever did.

Thanks for being part of this newsletter’s first year. Writing it has become one of my favorite rituals, and I cannot wait to keep it rolling in 2026.

What stuck with you most from 2025? Hit reply and tell me what you loved.

Blake

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