Here we are — the July “Real Estate” issue.
I’ve been pondering this letter for months, mostly because I knew it would be a tricky one to write. Why? Well, I don’t exactly feel qualified to wax poetic about real estate.
I rent. I live in an apartment. I’ve made my little corner of Columbia feel like home, but I’ve never dealt with the process of putting in an offer, undergoing inspections, or renovating a kitchen. I’m not the most adept person to speak on this, unless binge-watching “House Hunters” and daydreaming about becoming an interior designer as a kid counts for something (and if they do, I’m basically an expert).
For the literal side of real estate, I’ll let the stories in this issue do the talking. They’re full of insight from people who really know their stuff. Instead, I want to take this opportunity to talk about metaphorical real estate: What’s on your mental lease?
(Think of this as a loose sequel to my “Health & Wellness” letter, where I shared some of the hobbies that help me stay grounded. This version might lean a little more abstract and a little more stream-of-consciousness, so bear with me.)
From an aesthetic and functional standpoint, we know a home shouldn’t be overcrowded or neglected. The same goes for your brain. And yet, I, and probably most of the people you know, am a chronic doomscroller. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll consume twenty pieces of content I probably didn’t need. And if rumination were an Olympic sport? Let’s just say I’d have a shot at the podium.
It’s easy to mentally hoard things that don’t serve us: background noise, worry, guilt, that one email we still haven’t answered, or that one headline we wish we hadn’t read.
If you ever watched “Tidying Up with Marie Kondo” during its 2019 Netflix heyday (or read her book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up), you might remember the famous KonMari Method: Only keep what sparks joy and thank the rest as you let it go.
Of course, we can’t always do that with our thoughts. Some of them are heavy. Some of them don’t spark joy, but they’re part of our reality — responsibilities, grief, and uncertainties. Still, maybe there’s a way to approach it differently. Maybe we can think of those thoughts as tenants: They move in, we acknowledge them, and then, when the time comes, we give notice and evict them.
We can also compartmentalize the things that have to stay a little longer. Give them their own room to make a mess in instead of the whole house. That way, you preserve your most valuable mental square footage for the things that actually bring light in — your joy, your creativity, your peace, and your people.
If you want to really embrace the metaphor and tie in Michelle Terhune’s story on Columbia’s self-storage mania in this issue (which you should totally read right after this), remember that there are external outlets that can help carry the load. Creating, writing, or talking to someone you trust can serve as off-site storage for thoughts that feel too big to keep inside.
Real estate, literal or not, is all about how we choose to use the spaces we’re given. While this issue of COMO Magazine and COMO Business Times focuses more on the physical spaces — the homes, developments, and commercial spaces shaping Columbia — I hope this letter invites you to consider your internal landscape.
What’s worth making room for, and what might be time to release?
