Hearing the Still Small Voice

At 10 PM on Sunday night in Sharon CT the world is completely still. Other than the crickets and the peepers singing their songs, no noise penetrates the darkness. The stars blaze overhead; the few constellations I have learned to recognize, city boy that I am-Orion, the Big Dipper-prominent in the spring sky. The beavers we have been watching all weekend as they laboriously build a second lodge in our pond seem quiescent; even they, the great and indefatigable architects of the animal world, working without tax abatements or a union shop, have to rest sometime. In the quiet, I can think. Think about what is best for my agents, our business, my clients, my employees, think about what to write in this blog: if I can allow myself a little time in a quiet space, it’s remarkable what bubbles to the surface.

Tomorrow morning early we will load up the car with suitcases, food, an armload of peonies, and head back to New York. Every week end it feels like we are the Joad family cramming our earthly possessions into the truck to head for California. But what a gift this ritual is! I have made my life in the city, and life in the city is what I sell. The city is always vibrant, always exciting, always filled with possibility. But it is not an easy place for contemplation. In addition to shelter, that is what a home can provide. A quiet room, a serene color scheme, an hour or two with few distractions-then there is the opportunity to feel yourself outside the hustle of the urban experience and let the external noise dwindle.

One way or another, in one place or another, we all need time and space to reflect. Our customers need it to make sure they are buying what they really want; our sellers to make sure they are not walking away from offers they should actually accept. My agents need it to assure that they can come to their jobs each day clear-headed and committed. As high achieving, adrenaline surging New Yorkers, we go go go, we manage stress, we always need another hour in the day. But when my clients reach a negotiating impasse, I always urge them to take a day off. Walk in the Shakespeare or the Conservatory Garden. Look for migrating warblers in the trees in Riverside or Battery Park ( this is the time for that). Or just retreat to that spot in your home where the world drops away. When we sit still and let go, we tend to make the right decision.