Month: August 2009

good fortune, gratitude, thankful, work, yoga

My Year of Hopefulness – Everything You Need is in Your Hands

Christa Avampato

This morning on the subway I was reading the most recent issue of Yoga Journal. Every month they feature a short daily meditation article about a mantra, and this month its about empowerment.

Sanskrit:
“Karagre vasate Lakshmi
Kara-madhye Saraswati
Kara-mule sthita Gauri
Prabhate kara-darshanam”
English:
“On the tip of my fingers is prosperity and abundance (goddess Lakshmi);
In the middle of my hand is eloquence and learning (goddess Saraswati);
At the base of my hand is divine power (goddess Gauri or Parvati).
In the morning, a vision of energy in my hands.”

I’m always looking at people’s hands – they tell you a lot about their lives. What they do for a living, how well they take care of themselves, how they spend their time. They show us the kind of life someone has led.

For the past week, I’ve felt overwhelmed with gratitude and thankfulness. I’ve felt fortunate beyond measure, as if everything I ever wanted for my life is within easy reach. The appearance of this prayer, this call to action, said everything I have been feeling in 10 Sanskrit words.

We spend so much time looking out, looking for signs that we’re on the right track, going in the right direction. Really all we need to do is look as far as our own two hands and realize that there is enough power and grace within us to make the possible certain.

art, New York City, The Journal of Cultural Conversation

The Journal of Cultural Conversation: An interview with Hani, NYC’s Famous Sidewalk Artist

Christa Avampato

A few weeks ago, I was on my way up to Harlem to do some research for an after-school program I’m hoping to launch in January. As I was walking up Broadway, I stopped to admire a painting that had been done of the sidewalk.

It depicted a smiling Barack Obama beside a very pensive Hillary Clinton. Scrawled next to the painting was a URL: http://www.hanisidewalkart.com/. I wrote down the site to look into at a later date.

Two weeks ago I moved into a new apartment, and the day after I moved in there was a large gathering of people in a circle across the street.

I thought for sure someone was hurt, signing autographs, proselytizing, or break-dancing – all common things in New York that draw large sidewalk crowds. None of the above.

There was Hani, painting Michael Jackson on the sidewalk.

This time, I went home immediately and looked up his website. I would have interviewed him right there on the spot, though didn’t want to disturb his creative flow. I emailed him and he wrote back that same evening to say he’d love to be featured on TJCC. His story and work are fascinating and I am enthralled with his art, much of which is showcased on the website. I’m very happy to share his remarkable talent with you. Please click here for the interview.

art, hope, New York City, science, South Africa, travel

My Year of Hopefulness – Hope Grows

Christa Avampato

Today I went to the New Museum of Contemporary Art with my friend, Allan. There’s a South African photography exhibit by David Goldblatt on display there that I wanted to see. On the third floor, the photographs are dire. “Is all of South Africa a desert, Christa?” Allan asked me. In the photos the land has been reduced to rubble, laid barren by years of struggle and negligence. “Where is the hope?” Allan asked.

We then made our way up to the fourth floor where there were a series of before and after photographs. Barren land had regrown some. South Africa seemed a little more green, not teeming with life, though certainly much improved. I felt a small flicker of hope.

I went to South Africa about 2 years ago and though I had a series of unfortunate incidents, I also had a set of really incredible circumstances that endeared me to that country and its people. I’m sure I’ll return some day soon. While there seems to be no hope in the structures of shanty towns that can be found throughout the country, there is a great deal of strength and ambition in the eyes of South Africans. They seem to always be looking up and over, at something brighter and better in the distance.

The handful of before and after photographs got me to thinking about how hope and life can regenerate without any outside influence. The first law of thermodynamics involves the conservation of energy and it states that energy cannot be created nor destroyed. In Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, he reveals to us that while the first law of thermodynamics holds true, energy can transform into mass, and vice versa. As I viewed the photos of South Africa, particularly the before and after photos, I thought about Einstein’s theory and how it applies to broader circumstances outside of science.

It seems to me that the re-growth of life, mass, could be due to the fact that energy, hope, cannot be created nor destroyed. It just is, then, now, and always. While it may change forms and go into hiding from time to time, we can be sure that it is always there, available to us if only we have the insight to recognize it.

books, friendship, The Journal of Cultural Conversation, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Success in Writing

Christa Avampato

“To appreciate beauty; to give of one’s self, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived — that is to have succeeded.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Last week I sent an email off to a nonfiction writer whose work I greatly admire. She writes the histories of people who defied odds to create something truly remarkable in the world. I wanted to interview her for The Journal of Cultural Conversation. I was delighted when she emailed me immediately to say she’d love to be featured. I fired off a set of questions to her and waited for her response.

As I read her answers, I found myself nodding my head in full agreement with everything she said. Until I got to the final question: “What advice do you have for aspiring writers?” Her response: “Honestly, we’re in such a difficult time for non-fiction writers because the Internet has blown up the longtime economic models, I’m not sure how newcomers are supposed to make a living. I started off in newspapers and then briefly free-lanced for magazines. What newspapers are hiring today and what’s the future of magazines? The on-line sites pay nothing or tiny amounts. Ebooks may well undermine the publishing model that makes sizable advances possible. So, I truly don’t know how young writers will develop paying careers. And I find that sad.” Ouch.

I sat back at my desk and let out a long, slow sigh. I can’t possibly publish that answer with the interview. And then I considered why I was so resistant to that answer. After all, this writer sent me this very honest answer, and I always want honesty from people I interview. I don’t want candy-coated metaphors. Tell me what you think and how you feel. She did, and now I’m upset. Not exactly fair of me, is it?

Let’s consider this from her point of view – she’s a very established writer. She’d put out tomes that are the definitive works of the people she’s written about. She’s in the industry of publishing and she’s frustrated by the changes she sees occurring. We’re all entitled to feel frustrated from time to time. Maybe she was in a bad mood when she got my email. Maybe she was hungry – I get cranky when I’m hungry, too.

In this conversation with myself, I had to ask the question, “why am I doing this? All this writing? What am I trying to do here?” Recently a friend of mine questioned my motive about my writing. Out of concern, the friend thinks I might be wasting my time with all this work. At first this comment really hurt me, particularly because I have always been so encouraging of this friend. With this question before me, an answer quickly and easily surfaced, much to my surprise.

I’m not trying to make a living as a writer. I make a good living as a product developer, and I enjoy that work immensely. But it’s not my life. Writing is helping me build a life I’m happy with and proud of. It’s helping me to connect with interesting, passionate, inspiring people. I learn so much through these connections. And most of all, my writing is helping others. I get emails, texts, phone calls, and online comments on a variety of sources about how much my posts have helped them. It’s humbling. With writing, I’m doing some good in the world, and that’s all I’m really after.

The author I interviewed may be absolutely right – perhaps the publishing / writing paradigm has shifted forever due to technological advances. Maybe a career like hers, the way that she built it, just isn’t going to be possible going forward. And that’s just fine with me. Change arrives on our doorstep every moment, and there’s no way to shut it out. We can’t stop the world from transforming. What we can do, and what I try to do everyday, is show up in the world, tell my stories with honesty and grace, with the hope that some of them resonate with another soul. That’s really all I ever need in this life – to reach out, connect, and feel like I’m part of the global conversation.

community service, happiness, passion, volunteer, women

My Year of Hopefulness – Our Best Help

Christa Avampato

“Anybody can serve….You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

I’ve been doing some work with New York Women Social Entrepreneurs (NYWSE), a group dedicated to helping women launch and run successful social enterprises that have a profound impact on our society. Through a recent NYWSE event, I found A. Lauren Abele’s blog. Lauren “is an economic development program assistant at a community development nonprofit in Brooklyn. By night, Lauren volunteers with other nonprofits helping them with fund development, strategic planning, and social media. She is one of the 2009 NYWSE Mastermind-Mentoring Initiative (MMI) graduates and big-time NYWSE advocate.”

This week she posted her thoughts on how best to help a cause you care about. Her post really resonated with me. In relation to my post from yesterday about doing things we don’t know how to do, Lauren advocates for helping the cause, any cause that interests us, by channeling our own special gifts and talents. If we want to make a difference, we can figure out how best to do that by delving deep within our own hearts. Just begin. We best help the cause by being who we are.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about fitting into a form versus creating a form around our own passions. It’s a very different intention, a very different way of considering service. If we approach service first from the perspective of “what do I love to do, what am I good at, and when am I happiest?” and then find the circumstances that best showcase those activities, we’ll achieve our highest potential.

Lauren’s shining a light on something very profound. Consider this: let’s say that you are passionate about the environment. There are so many options for you to really lend a hand to this cause. You could work with your local park or community garden. You could organize a recycling event in your neighborhood. You could support local farmers. You could write about the cause, sharing your knowledge and interest in the subject with others. There a million ways to play a part – all that’s required is that you care and then channel that care into an activity that brings you joy.

It sounds so simple and yet we spend so much time trying to do what’s “right” for the cause, what we think the cause needs, rather than taking what we do well and doing that for the cause’s benefit. Really what’s right for the cause is that we just be present, that we contribute in some way that’s uniquely, beautifully us.

The image above can be found here.

childhood, children, education, school, teaching, volunteer, yoga

My Year of Hopefulness – Doing What We’ve Never Done

Christa Avampato

All week I’ve been trying to write curriculum for my after-school pilot program. I’m not a trained teacher. I’ve tutored and I’ve volunteered in classrooms. Mostly, I’ve just been up there at the wipe board (apparently the blackboards and chalk of my youth are long-since gone) winging it.

Rather than writing curriculum, I’ve been staring at a very blank white screen on my laptop, complete with blinking cursor. And that little tiny voice, the one I just dread, decides to show up at the most inopportune time to make me feel even worse. “Who are you to be writing curriculum?” it says. “You don’t know how to do that.” And as much as I want to turn down that volume, the voice grows louder, adding more doubts, more concerns, and more insecurity to my already frazzled mind. I have no idea what I’m doing. There’s no denying that.

At 11:00 last night, I closed down my laptop without having written a single word. “The voice was right,” I thought. “Who do I think I am? An untrained “teacher” writing curriculum. I can’t do this.” I did what I often do when I’m frustrated with my writing. I read. The latest issue of Yoga Journal just arrived in my mailbox so I cracked it open and began reading from page one.

There is a belief in yoga, and I believe in Buddhism as well, that the Universe will provide us with the exact teaching we need exactly when we need it. Kaitlin Quistgaard, the Editor of Yoga Journal, wrote this month’s editorial note about how to show up for life and begin something we want to do even if we aren’t sure how to do it. “It seemed like a life lesson designed to show me the value of doing my part, even if I don’t know what to do,” she says of a recent incident she had. This sounds like valuable ammunition against that little voice that was doubting me. I keep reading.

A few pages later, I come across an article by Julia Butterfly Hill who talks about finding your purpose and growing with it. Hmmm…sounds like another good one. The whole article is one beautiful quote after another. “Who am I supposed to be in my life?…what do you want your legacy to be?…We approach everything backward…we live in a production-driven society rather than a purpose-driven society.” And here’s my favorite line that I’m considering having made into a t-shirt: “We don’t have to know how to do something before we begin it.” Though I’m a product developer, paid to produce, I am much more concerned with living my life with purpose than with things.

So that’s it – that’s all I needed to know to silence the little voice nagging at me. It’s true – I don’t know how to write a curriculum. I don’t know what material will resonate with the kids I want to teach. I don’t know how to actually do anything related to this project. I do know that I am a fast learner, and that I was born not knowing much of anything except how to breath, (and even that breathing isn’t something we do consciously!) I do know that I want to live in a world where every child has the opportunity to learn anything and everything that interests them. I want them all to grow up happy, healthy, safe, and excited about the possibilities that lay before them. I want them all to have a chance at a good and decent life. And that’s more than enough purpose to keep going.

The photo above can be found here.

childhood, children, family, friendship, love, relationships

My Year of Hopefulness – New Life

Christa Avampato

Today my friends, Alex and Shawn, welcomed a new baby boy into the world. 7 and a half pounds, 19 and a half inches of new, beautiful, perfect, healthy life. Alex and Shawn will be amazing parents. They’re the funniest couple I know. Their love story is one of my favorites. Having met their freshman year of college, they’ve gone through so many life changes, together and apart. After more than a decade together, they remain intensely interested in the other’s interests and they support one another endlessly in all their pursuits. Spending time with them has always made me feel optimistic about the fate of love and marriage.

And now they begin this new piece of their history with a new member of their family. I went to Providence a few weeks ago for the baby shower, and they were both so happy. Though neither of them seemed stressed or worried or afraid. This was just another great event in their lives.

With everything we hear in the news about the difficulty of remaining in love, raising kids, and keeping a marriage strong and healthy, it’s easy to feel like it’s just not possible to have all three. And then I watch Alex and Shawn and realize that marriage and family and love are what you make of them. Too often we imagine that they are entities unto themselves that we have no control over, as if our own feelings of love live outside of us, independent of the rest of our lives. What’s amazing about Alex and Shawn is that their love resides firmly at the center of their lives, while also giving them the confidence and freedom to pursue their own independent ventures, too. It’s really something to behold, especially when you consider how young they were when they first met.

I can say with certainty that their son is one of the luckiest little guys in the world. He has these incredible parents who will provide such a prime example of what love can and should be. I can’t stop smiling when I think about how much happiness he will know in his life. All kids should be so lucky.

The photo above can be found here.

children, education, family, legacy, social work, time

My Year of Hopefulness – Rich in Time

Christa Avampato

“An unhurried sense of time is in itself a form of wealth.” ~Bonnie Friedman

I am obsessed with time. Spending time. Saving time. Wasting time. The perception of time. The concepts of aging and growing and changing over time. And of course, the ultimate time question – how much time do we have left? Time is the only asset we ever truly own because we determine its value and worth.

The aspect of time that intrigues me the most is one I first learned in my college economics classes – leverage. How do I use my time as wisely as possible to do the most good I can? How do I get the maximum impact with the minimum amount time? The odd unintended blessing of losing a parent so young is that I stare my mortality in the face every day. If I want to accomplish everything I want to do, I have to utilize the idea of leverage. Our days pass too quickly, our time is too precious, to start every new idea from scratch.

The point Bonnie Friedman raises in her quote is one that leaves me scratching my head. I am always in a hurry – walking down the street, getting my errands done, eating, writing. I zip through as fast as possible so I can get on to what’s next. Where I struggle is how to enjoy each activity without thinking about what’s next? How can I be in the moment, this moment, every moment, without causing myself unintended stress from hurrying from point A to point B and back again?

My fear is that I’m missing out. I was recently telling my sister, Weez, that I really wanted to do something and her immediate response was, “let’s face it: if you decide you’re really going to do something, you make it happen.” At that point my question to myself was, “at what cost?” The trouble that over-committers like me face is this: how do I say no without feeling guilty? When there are so many people out there who need what we all have to offer, when I see so many ways for me to make things better, how do I decide this thing is important and needs my attention and that one does not?

The education program I’m working on has actually helped me begin to find some answers to these questions. I’ve been kicking around this idea, writing drafts of the white paper, meeting with potential partners, and asking for honest feedback on the idea from friends and colleagues since April. And every time I sit down to work on it, every time the idea even crosses my mind, I get a little jolt of energy and excitement that keeps on growing. The more I work on it, the more alive I feel. I’m so certain I can make a difference in this way, with this curriculum, that there isn’t any way that I can conceive of turning back now. I feel about this project the way that I feel about my writing – it’s becoming a very integral part of who I am.

And maybe that’s the trick. Maybe all our hurrying is caused by our desire to find where we belong. Once we find it, we can enjoy this wealth of unhurried time, as Bonnie Friedman suggests, because there is no ‘next’. We’re here, where we always wanted to be.

My dad was a clinical psychologist and his work was his life. He never felt hurried in his office, at his great mahogany desk surrounded by his books and papers and patients. He loved his studies in that field more than he loved anything. It may have been his only love now that I think of it. In some way, I sort of feel like this education project is helping me understand him, helping me see why his work was so important to him.

His last job before leaving the work force was as a school psychologist in Harlem. I always wondered why he was so eager to hop on a train that took him to the big City to help other kids while my mother was left to work and raise us on her own. Now that I’ve spent some time in public schools in New York, I understand. The problems and challenges are so great, and the opportunity to do something good in that environment is immense. The impact is immediate. Like him, I keep thinking about those tiny faces and those solemn eyes who wanted assurances that I would be back to see them again. He couldn’t let them down. I can’t either.

Though he’s been gone now 17 years, perhaps there is a way for me to still get to know him. Perhaps this drive to do some good in the public schools of New York City is much more than just my way of giving back. And maybe this is some kind of calling that’s coming from afar, some way to continue work, albeit in a different vein, that was begun so many years ago by my dad and the many people who were doing this work long before him. It’s a way to leverage the work of the past to create brighter futures, my own and the kids I hope to help. No hurrying required, and much wealth to gain.

The photo above can be found here.

memory, New York City, success

My Year of Hopefulness – A Random Sign to Set the World Right

Christa Avampato
“There is more than a verbal tie between the words common, community, and communication … Try the experiment of communicating, with fullness and accuracy, some experience to another, especially if it be somewhat complicated, and you will find your own attitude toward your experience changing.” ~ John Dewey

This morning when I stepped outside, there was a decided feeling of Fall. I felt like I might have just stepped through some kind of portal and been taken back in time. All of a sudden, it didn’t feel like New York anymore. It felt more like Society Hill in Philadelphia, where I went to college. The squat, ornate brownstones. The crisp air. The feeling that some great historic figure would emerge into the street at any moment.

I didn’t sleep much in college. One, because my insomnia was at its peak for the entire 4 year stretch. Two, because I was woefully behind all of my other classmates, meaning I had to work twice as hard, at least, just to keep my head above water. Three, because I had to work multiple jobs all the way through. I spent a lot of early mornings watching the sun come up. During my senior year, I worked at Olde City Coffee all the way downtown. I loved the trip down there in the early morning, before anyone was awake. I felt like I had Philly to myself for a little while. This morning took me back to those early mornings at Olde City and everything I looked forward to when I was 21.

I remember a few thoughts vividly from that time. I was interested in making a strong, lasting impact on the world. I was determined to be financially stable. I spent a lot of my time thinking about what I wanted to be my contribution to humanity. Going to school in Philadelphia, a place that is steeped in history, intellect, and righteous rebellion, renders people practically unable to consider anything except the big picture. Now, I treasure those days. At the time, I was really scared that I’d never live up to the impossibly high standards that my school impressed upon us daily. The constant reminder of greatness that the founding fathers left scattered around Philly didn’t help either. At some point, you begin to worry that anything short of founding your own nation is just not a high enough achievement.

As I made my way to the subway, I saw the sign depicted in the image above. In some type of chalk / paint / marker, someone had written “If we all do one random act of kindness daily we just might set the world in the right direction. ~Martin Kornfeld”. Maybe it was thinking about my college days that had me waxing nostalgic; this sign really struck me. I had to stop and take a photograph. It communicated a profound message to me so simply and beautifully, and I’m sure it’s done the same for countless other. If only I had seen this sign sooner, about 12 years sooner, I might have been able to calm down a little bit about my life and its direction.

I thought about this sign all day and how much good it does for all who see it. Imagine if all of us, everyday, did just one nice thing for someone else. Someone we know. Someone we don’t know. Someone who may never know us. How different would our communities and the larger world look? And imagine how different our own attitude toward our experiences would be. Maybe it’s all we can hope for – giving a little kindness, getting a little kindness, and doing our small part to make our communities a tiny bit better than how we found them the day before. It seems to me that that is a contribution to humanity that we could all be proud of.

culture, history, museum, The Journal of Cultural Conversation

The Journal of Cultural Conversation: Titanic: The Exhibition

Christa Avampato

Happy Monday, all. My latest post is up at TJCC. On Saturday I visited Titanic: The Exhibition, now on view at the Discovery Times Center on 44th Street. The exhibit tells the story of the Titanic through items salvaged from the wreckage, eye-witness accounts, and scientific exploration. I found it to be equal parts fascinating and terrifying. Around every corner I was surprised by some new fact I never knew.

For the full article and to check out all of the other great conversations happening over at TJCC, please click here.