Hello Hello ALL

Till soon

Hello Hello All,

I hope you've been well. I've been sinking into my winter rhythms even before the season officially arrives—slowing down, and also, quite frankly, seeking space to speed up. One way I've been doing this is by playing squash at the local Bard College campus. Don’t know if any of you play squash or wish to learn, but Bard has a pretty robust community of players, myself included. If y'all want to play/learn sometime, reach out to me—I’d be happy to loop you in.

It's been a slower summer/autumn season for me, and during this time, I've noticed a space opening up within me that isn't directly related to my work in regenerative real estate. Many of you know me through my role as a realtor, and you may have heard me mention my past roles as a farmer, contractor, and solar installer. More on another strand of life-work below. But recently, I've felt a strong desire for a new evolution in how I show up in the world.

Embracing Change and Evolution

I'm not entirely sure what that evolution looks like yet, but I wanted to be open about this shift, as it may influence how I engage a bit moving forward. I’ve had more time on my hands than I know what to do with at times—wishing for more clients, applying for jobs, and I suppose acknowledging that an undertone of this newsletter is really to gain more clients and seek that work. But also realizing that even if my schedule were full, there would still be a desire for something else.

I can confidently say that I’m not stepping away from real estate. In many ways, I know it’s just getting started for me. But I remain open to other ways of engaging with myself and the community.

Since launching this newsletter in 2020, I’ve been deeply engaged in outreach—connecting with many of you and working together toward tangible collaboration. This collective effort has included in-person meetings, countless online conversations, and site visits to some truly inspiring places. Together, we’ve worked on cultivating farmland, initiating affordable housing solutions, starting new businesses, and exploring ventures that remain in the idea stage—or may never materialize. We’ve envisioned physical community developments and contributed to the broader movement of regeneration, where it intersects with business and life in the 21st century.

Throughout this journey, my level of participation has ebbed and flowed. Lately, I’ve been in a more introspective place, allowing certain things to fall away. There have been times when I’ve had to step back or been removed from situations entirely. Yet, even during struggles and moments when I couldn’t show up as I had hoped, I remain grateful for the times we’ve supported one another, for choosing cooperation over competition when it mattered, and for recognizing that sometimes letting things fall apart is exactly what’s needed to make space for something new.

I’ve been feeling quite passive lately—more sensitive to what wants to happen, rather than trying to control it myself. It’s a humbling experience, reminding me to try and Let go & Let God. Recently, I attended an online seminar from Bard’s campus titled something like Sustainability in the Trump 2.0 Era. It felt like a scramble to make sense of policy changes, shifting landscapes, and the ways sustainability and business might need to adapt. Honestly, much of it felt like an attempt at sense-making in the face of what hasn’t been making much sense at all. And in many ways, I feel the same way lately—navigating a landscape that seems uncertain, yet still holding space for possibility.

Andrew Faust’s Earth is Our Home

That said, in my last letter, I shared a bit about Andrew Faust’s new book, Earth is Our Home. I’ve been slowly reading through it and reflecting on his thoughts from the first chapter, where he discusses our history and co-evolution with the Earth. As he writes:

“Our ancient mammalian lineage comes from around 65 million years ago, emerging from under the feet of the dying dinosaurs, which the revered naturalist Loren Eiseley characterizes as tree-dwelling gophers. This story of evolution is our new cosmology and sets the foundation for redefining our sense of self and grounding our identity as Earth beings. Co-founders of Gaia Theory, describing the Earth as a self-regulating organism, Lynn Margulis and Dorian Sagan distill how this self-regulating living planet has evolved into this phrase: ‘Life begets the conditions that benefit life.’ This outlines beautifully and simply our collective work as a species—to become part of this story, the story of life benefiting life.”

As I read through Andrew Faust’s book, I’m feeling a sense of groundedness, especially with the focus on the physical nature of our existence, our connection to water cycles, the earth, and so on. It feels like a nice counterbalance to the lofty language and thinking I’ve been accustomed to, and often shared here. I think anyone who has encountered Andrew would agree that his work and approach reflect this same groundedness. Again, if you’re keen to pick-up a copy of his book, please find it here on Amazon. And if you’re actually reading this and really want a copy, please feel free to write me, first person to do so with their home address. I’ll ship them a copy of his book… Happy holiday from me :)

We Only Call It Waste Because We Waste It

One of the most meaningful and perhaps surprising moments of connection I’ve felt as a human on this planet happened during a week-long festival in Europe. It may sound unusual, but it involved a composting toilet. Growing up in New York City, I often felt guilty about the sheer wastefulness of flushing clean water down the drain. The relief I felt when I saw a closed-loop system in action—one that transformed human “waste” into something useful and beneficial for the local environment—was profound. A problem that once seemed impossible to solve was suddenly right there in front of me. It wasn’t just about the practicality; it was the realization that what we discard can actually be part of a life-giving cycle. The festival itself was equally inspiring. With over 40,000 attendees, it recycles its water, plants trees, grows food, and creates stunning land art. It’s a holistic approach to sustainability and regeneration that’s both beautiful and functional. If you’re curious, I’ve included a link to their site below—feel free to click around for inspiration. Reflecting on this experience from my 20s, it’s a nice reminder of how these moments can leave a lasting impression

A couple of years later, I found myself building and sharing composting toilets at a small gathering I organized here in the Catskills. It was an opportunity to recreate that same sense of connection and share it with others locally. Along the way, I had the privilege of working with Hamish Skermer, a leading expert in the field of human waste and nutrient cycles. Hamish’s work spans festivals and developing countries, and I spent a season with his company, NaturalEvent, gaining hands-on experience in closing nutrient loops and creating sustainable systems for events.

Hamish has an incredible story. Known as the “poo pirate,” he began his work in England, where composting toilets were initially illegal. Undeterred by outdated laws, he pushed forward with a clear sense of purpose. His efforts culminated in a world record at the Glastonbury Festival, where over 1,000 composting toilets were installed—the largest single deployment of its kind. Working alongside him, I was inspired by his dedication and his vision of turning waste into something useful.

One of Hamish’s favorite sayings was, “We call it ‘waste’ because we waste it.” That simple yet profound idea has stuck with me ever since. At one point, we used the compost to grow flowers, creating beautiful gardens from what was once discarded. It was a powerful reminder of how interconnected we are with the cycles of nature and how regeneration is possible, even in the most unexpected ways.

This experience may seem like a tangent, but it encapsulates so much of what drives me. It’s about finding meaning and connection in the cycles of life—learning how to transform what seems discarded or lost into something vibrant and new. For me, this work isn’t just an idea; it’s a practice rooted in real, tangible experiences that remind me how deeply connected we are to the Earth.

The Integration Center

Now, let me perhaps wrap this up with a wide-ranging yet direct share from my real estate work. It’s an example of how well-rounded and all-encompassing this career can be, if you let it. I’ve been working with a client who has a vision for a retreat center combined with permanent residences in a cohousing style. We’ve been searching throughout the Hudson Valley, coming close to making an offer on a parcel in Orange County, though the search continues. In the meantime, my client has developed a precise yet flexible plan for this combined business and living opportunity here in upstate New York. While the location is still TBD, they’ve asked me to share more publicly about their project: The Integration Center.

(The image above is totally AI generated) but reach out if youre keen to make it reality

https://integrationcenter.org/

The Integration Center offers a comprehensive vision for creating intentional communities that integrate healing, sustainability, and cooperative living. At its core, the plan aims to shift individuals and communities away from extractive systems and toward regenerative, heart-centered living.

What I find particularly grounding—and perhaps even an antidote to the many challenges of creating such a community—is the clarity and structure of the Integration Center’s business plan. It provides a phased approach to implementation, breaking down what can feel like an overwhelming vision into manageable steps. From acquiring land to building initial structures, running retreats, and eventually creating a thriving ecovillage, the plan offers a path forward rooted in practicality and incremental growth.

The center itself would combine cohousing with a retreat center at its core, serving as both a functional space and the glue of the community. Over time, it’s envisioned as a thriving ecovillage of around 100-150 residents, where the retreat center also supports personal healing work, nature immersion, and community connection.

I’ve come across many people in the region who dream of initiating or joining a community—planning one, building one, or just being part of one. The sentiment of finding land with friends and creating something meaningful remains strong. But I’m also realizing how challenging it is to bring these visions to fruition. The notions of cooperation and communal living are slippery yet deeply worthwhile tasks.

The Integration Center’s open business plan outlines various opportunities to get involved, invest, or co-develop this vision. Its structured and adaptable framework is a reminder that even the most ambitious dreams can be grounded in practical, actionable steps. I’ll let the site speak for itself, but if it resonates with you, feel free to reach out—I’d be happy to connect you.

Fin

That’s it for me right now. Thanks for reading along, and as always, feel free to reach out. Also, I realized I’ve made a grave mistake when it comes to recognizing who’s actually subscribing here. Often, email addresses have little to do with personal names, and I’m guilty of forgetting exactly who’s reading along sometimes. So, if by chance you’re just curious about what’s going on, or if you’d like to grab lunch or coffee sometime, please don’t hesitate to respond to this email—I’d love to connect.