I have a secret to let y’all in on. All these years I’ve been posing as a holistic writer, I’ve also been a realtor. Granted, I have not been all that active in the real estate industry in the years after our daughter was born on 9/9/09. Yep, she’s about to get her learner’s permit, but I want to get back to something I’m more comfortable discussing. Eek!
As happens with anyone who becomes a first-time parent, it’s a watershed moment. Life is forever altered, as it should be. For some of us, it may take a while for the changes to set in, but set in they will.
For me, as a realtor, things did not come as easily as I would like to think fatherhood came to me. Sure, I’m likeable, thoughtful, and trustworthy, but totally not a natural salesman. I don’t possess the talent, nor the desire, to convince you that you will burst into flames if you don’t buy this piece of property, right here, right now, come hell or high water.
Place yourself during the end of the financial times of free money and elevated home prices when the bubble burst. The first bubble of the millennium… The “late aughts” were a head-scratcher, even while living them. Plenty of talented people, realtors among them, were running around doing little more than burning gas. That said, one of us needed to stay home with baby Emma-Belle (EB, as we call her). The task, or rather the privilege, fell to me, the guy just burning gas.
Not that I was unhappy with this turn of events, but it wasn’t the plethora of gushing clients and stress-free closings that I envisioned. How often is life what we envision, anyhow? Family first, so Mr. Mom status was mine, ready or not. I eventually cherished and had fun with my new life, that is, except when she was teething. I will note that, while I am an introvert, it was fascinating how the lack of adult interaction became a thing. Isolated island for the person that craves isolation… Regardless, it was during that era that I realized the gift that I had been given.
It goes without saying that the primary gift was time with this precious little thing we brought into this world with a bond of love. The word gift doesn’t begin to describe the miracle that was bestowed upon me. I suppose applying the term indescribable stands to reason with matters of the heart.
I am a lucky man, indeed. For I received another gift during this time. It’s almost not fair. The gift I’m referring to is the realization that if I didn’t commit to the dream I birthed while sitting on the rocks of Fripp Island twenty-two years earlier, I might never do it. Funny how a major life change crystalizes things, isn’t it?
You see, I always wanted to write—write a novel, to be specific. Sure, I dabbled sincerely here and there, namely as a restaurant and movie critic for The Greenville News. But really, I had no concept of how to write a full-length novel at twelve, nor did I have much more of an idea as a new father at thirty-four. One thing I did know, however: Not writing that novel would become a death-bed regret. I know what I know and I knew this deeply.
As many a parent realizes, caring for a little human is a full-time job. That said, I observed that I could grab ten-to-fifteen-minute pockets of time. I instinctively knew not to miss the forest for the trees and didn’t get bogged down in the what ifs and how’s this gonna works. By taking the task in small chunks, I was able to complete the hand-written rough draft of a 93,000-word novel in six months. I took only two days off. One day was intentional and guilt-free. The other day, I should have remained in bed with EB and watched Star Trek when she allowed. We’ve all been there with a need for Star Trek time.
Life transitions, though, doesn’t it? It transitions whether we like it or not. Life transitions whether we embrace it, or not, whether we are ready for it, or not, whether we agree with it, or not. Transitions happen regardless of the concept of fairness. People, pets, and things transition to and from our lives. Places, too.
Now, it’s becoming apparent to me that I’m transitioning back to what I started; helping people transition from place to place. I always took pride in the fact that most of my former clients became friends. The type of friends that come to our home on Christmas eve. I’m ready for more of that.
The other day my BIC (Broker-In-Charge/Boss Man) stated he felt his side-gig is psychologist/expectation coordinator. This struck me as odd, but when you consider that, in a manner of speaking, one can’t find the corner pins of a homesite until you meet a need. Now, that need can manifest in many different fashions depending on the weather of the situation. You can’t even get a survey, home inspection, much less, go into negotiations, until the needs of a buyer and seller are met, and exceeded when possible. (BTW, never fail to get a home inspection, even if it’s “as is”. Even if you’re the seller.)
While I’ve always quipped that my real estate career took a dramatic turn when I went from staging houses to saging them, there was a self-judgment of failure there. I know this doesn’t make sense, but I felt what I felt.
I believe we all know what staging a home is. Saging a home, however, is an energetic process by which a practitioner of the energetic arts makes a structure feel better, more livable, more workable, often less foreboding. Similar results, while the former is more concrete, the latter is more esoteric in nature. I say all this to say that we can sometimes be too effin’ clever with our humor, can’t we?
Honestly, I marvel at the title realtor as much as I do Reiki Master. Both are titles that are relatively easy to attain, while being laborious to maintain, much less grow into a level of proficiency while safe-guarding authenticity at every step of the way. In a sea of Reiki Masters and realtors, how does one stand out while not being swallowed up by all the bulls*** that comes one’s way, whether you’re ready or not?
Other than a clever title to canvas the multitude of layers this column sometimes requires; this is not me eschewing titles for the sake of being enigmatic. This is me asking whose worlds don’t get blended, in one way or the next? I’m suggesting it’s the resistance to said blending that causes distress in our lives. Now, sometimes certain things shouldn’t be comingled, to use a naughty real estate term. I’m not talking about improprieties. This is not a work-around of integrity. There are no short-cuts, but the journey is worth it, every step of the way.
Success is in a place only you can see. Stay the course—stay within to change the world.
