In our first episode of Room to Think, I sat down with artist and designer Adam Trest to explore what makes a home feel like home rather than just look like one. We talked about pattern, color, story, ritual, and the pieces we collect that hold meaning long after we’ve chosen them. Adam’s work is a reminder that the objects we live with are not just decoration. Whether it’s a recurring motif like foxes, folk art, or a collection built slowly over time, these elements act as anchors for memory, identity, and belonging. They are often the quiet reason a space feels personal rather than staged. Discussion prompt: Which of the following resonates most with you in your own space? • An object you’ve kept because of what it means to you • A color, pattern, or artwork that makes you feel at home • A memory that lives in your space long after it happened Even a sentence is enough. There are no right answers here.

This community is an extension of the podcast, but it’s meant to be slower, more reflective, and more practical. Room to Think is about noticing how the spaces we live and work in quietly affect how we think, feel, and function. Here, we’ll unpack ideas from each episode, share small things you can try in your own space, and talk honestly about what environments support us and which ones don’t. I’ll start. At a time when I had just moved into a new apartment, I spent several full weekends searching for a couch. I was tired, overwhelmed, and ready to be done. When I finally found one that looked right for the aesthetic I had in mind, I sat down and decided, mostly out of exhaustion, that this had to be the one. But in the few quiet minutes while the salesperson stepped away, my body told me something different. The fabric felt rough against my skin. Lint covered my black pants. I noticed myself tensing instead of relaxing. Even though the couch was beautiful, I knew I would never truly feel at ease on it. Long story short, I didn’t take that couch home. That moment stayed with me. It made me realize how often we override our bodies in favor of appearances, and how much our spaces can subtly drain us or support us long before we consciously notice. If you’re open to sharing, I’d love to hear: • A space or object that looked right but never felt right • A place where your body softens and relaxes • Or what brought you here No right answers. No design expertise needed. I’m really glad you’re here. - Lyssia