September 21, 2026

The Pursuit of Better Living

We are surrounded by the idea that there is always a better version of our lives waiting for us. Eat better. Move more. Sleep better. Be more present. Be more disciplined. There is always something to work on, improve or change. But when does the pursuit of better stop being about caring for ourselves and start becoming a quiet belief that who we are, right now, isn't quite enough? In this reflection, I explore what it really means to live better, and whether we can keep striving for more while learning to appreciate the life we are already living.

I’ve always been drawn to better.

It is, in many ways, the thread running through my work. Better food. Better ingredients. Better ways of cooking. Better food experiences. Better choices. Better food environments. I have spent much of my career asking a fairly simple question: how can we make this better for you without taking away the pleasure of it?

So I don’t have a problem with the word pursuit. In fact, I rather like it. I am naturally curious about what could be improved, what could be understood more deeply, what could work better. I believe in learning, in changing our minds, in trying again, in making small choices that serve us well. I believe that the way we eat, move, rest, work and spend our time can have a profound effect on how we experience our lives.

What I have become less convinced by is the idea that there is a better version of ourselves somewhere ahead of us, and that if we could just get enough things right, we would eventually arrive there.

It is an easy idea to absorb. Eat better. Move more. Sleep properly. Be more present. Work harder. Rest more. Become more organised. Be more disciplined. There is always something to improve and, increasingly, an entire industry ready to tell us how to do it. Even the language of wellbeing can begin to sound like another project of self improvement, another list of things we should be doing in order to become the person we believe we ought to be.

And somewhere in all of that, I think we can lose sight of something rather important: our worth is not waiting for us at the end of the process.

I can want to eat better without believing I am a failure when I don’t. I can want to move more without believing that my body needs fixing. I can want to be more present without berating myself for the moments when I am distracted. I can want to grow, change, learn and do things differently while still knowing that I am enough exactly as I am today.

For me, that distinction is becoming increasingly important. There is a world of difference between wanting something to be better and believing that what exists is not good enough. The first can come from curiosity, care and possibility. The second can quietly become a form of dissatisfaction with ourselves.

I don’t want to lose the desire for better. Quite the opposite. I think it is one of the most positive instincts we have. It is what makes us ask better questions, create better food, rethink old ideas and imagine that things could be different. But I also think we need to learn how to pursue better without making the present moment something we have to escape.

Perhaps that is the real tension underneath better living. We need both agency and acceptance. We need the freedom to make a different choice and the compassion to forgive ourselves when we don’t. We need ambition without self rejection, and the ability to look honestly at where we are without immediately deciding that we need to become someone else.

This matters particularly when we talk about food. So much of the language around eating has become a language of improvement, correction and control. Better choices can so easily become good choices and bad choices, foods we should eat and foods we shouldn’t, days when we have been “good” and days when we have somehow failed.

I don’t believe food needs to carry that weight.

I want better food because I want food to take care of us. I want it to be genuinely delicious and nourishing, satisfying enough to leave us feeling well fed rather than still looking for something else. I want us to have the knowledge and confidence to make choices that work for our lives, not because we are trying to become a more acceptable version of ourselves, but because we deserve to feel good in the lives we are actually living.

That, to me, is what better for you should mean. It should feel like care, not punishment.

And perhaps this is where the idea of pursuit becomes more interesting.

We are trained to imagine our lives as a line moving forward, always progressing towards the next version of ourselves. There is always another milestone, another achievement, another Monday morning when we will start again. Progress becomes the north star and, while there is nothing wrong with progress, it can make the present feel strangely provisional, as though this version of our life is simply the bit we have to get through before the real one begins.

But what if better living isn’t only about moving forwards?

What if it is also about going deeper into the life that is already here?

Into this day, rather than the day we are planning. Into the meal in front of us rather than the meal we think we should have eaten. Into the conversation rather than the phone beside us. Into the people we love, the places we live, the ordinary rituals that make up far more of our lives than the big moments ever will. Into being where our feet are.

"Because a life well lived cannot be built entirely from discipline. It also needs pleasure, connection, rest, forgiveness, curiosity and the ability to be present for what is happening while it is happening."

Aisling Larkin

I think about this particularly when I think about acceptance. Acceptance is sometimes misunderstood as giving up, as deciding that nothing needs to change. I don’t see it that way at all. To accept where you are is not to say that you don’t want to go somewhere else. It is simply to stop fighting with the fact that this is where you are now.

And forgiveness sits beside it.

Because we will all dont get it right all ofbthe time. We will eat when we aren’t particularly hungry. We will skip the walk. We will stay up too late. We will lose patience with someone we love. We will spend an evening scrolling when we had intended to read. We will make the choice we said we wouldn’t make.

The answer cannot be to turn every imperfect moment into evidence that we need to try harder.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is acknowledge it, forgive ourselves and begin again.

That isn’t a lack of ambition.

It is what allows ambition to become sustainable.

Because a life well lived cannot be built entirely from discipline. It also needs pleasure, connection, rest, forgiveness, curiosity and the ability to be present for what is happening while it is happening.

I still want better. I suspect I always will. I want to keep learning and questioning and making things better where I can. I want to cook better food, create better experiences and find better ways of helping people nourish themselves in the reality of modern life. That desire is not something I want to quiet.

But I don’t want to spend my life becoming better at living while missing the life itself.

The school run. The meal. The walk. The person across the table. The conversation that goes on longer than expected. The ordinary Tuesday that looked like nothing much when it began and, years from now, will be part of the life we remember.

Perhaps that is the balance I am looking for now. To keep pursuing better without needing to become better in order to feel worthy. To make conscious choices while leaving room for the ones that don’t go to plan. To care about how I live without turning my life into a project. To keep moving forwards while remembering to look around.

Because there is only ever one place from which we can make things better.

Here.

And there is only ever one life we are actually living.

This one.