I tell wonder-filled stories about hope and healing
On Friday night I ran a product testing session at work. The evening was filled with excitement and more than a little stress. Once the event was over, I realized a very important insight that will serve me well in 2016: As I seek out new opportunities, I want to be actively engaged in the learning process of others. I felt a spark light up in me when a student discovered something new, and that spark is something I have to honor and nurture.
I am so deeply committed to the arts in any form for one simple reason: it is the one vehicle we have to take any circumstance, be it joyful or tragic, and turn it into something that can inspire anyone who comes in contact with it. One of my favorite examples of this is A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.
Dickens’s tale makes him synonymous with Christmas. He grew up in dire circumstances, going to work in a factory at age 12 in order to support his family because his father had been jailed for debt. His early personal experience with poverty fueled his passion to use his writing to speak for people who couldn’t speak for themselves. Originally, he wanted to create a political pamphlet about poverty in Victorian England and instead decided to write A Christmas Carol because he felt it would have “20 times the impact of a political pamphlet.” He was right that it would have more impact. What he didn’t know is that it would remain in print for 172 years (and counting!), and become one of the most beloved texts and multi-media traditions of all-time.
So this Christmas, whether you’re listening to holiday music, reading a book like A Christmas Carol, or watching a holiday movie, let’s take a moment to recognize that the tough times we experience have the potential to be turned into something beautiful that could inspire people and help them persevere.
A few years ago, one of my yoga teacher training classmates choked up during her final presentation and wasn’t able to complete it the way she wanted to complete it. She got very upset (as anyone would!) and said she felt like a failure. Then our teacher, Jeffrey, said words I will never forget: this isn’t failure; this is growth. You might feel like things are falling down around you, and maybe they are. That’s certainly how I’ve felt this week. Jeffrey’s words rang in my ears yesterday, clear as a bell, like a gift from the Universe because that’s what they are and because they are exactly what I needed to hear.
You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. What you can do is let it stand there and see its reflection. The person you are trying to help has to want to be helped, has to meet you halfway. And some people can’t, or won’t, accept your help. You can’t change that.
Yesterday wasn’t a great day in my world, but something great came from it. It gave me an opportunity to express certain things that have been on my mind. I said them respectfully and firmly. Most of my concerns fell on deaf ears, and that’s okay. I said them. I can sleep at night, and now I can move on knowing that I did what I could do to keep a ship from sinking.
As sad as I am about the situation, I trust the timing of my life. I imagine that a few months from now I’ll look back on today from a different vantage point and realize that this is what had to happened. I let my disappointment go, and turned my energy toward finding what’s next. I trust that I’ll find exactly what I need to find.
“When something feels off, it is.” ~Abraham Hicks
Listen. When you don’t know what to do, what to think, and what to feel, close your eyes and just listen. Deep down in that precious and powerful gut of yours, there is every answer you need. It may not be easy to hear and it may feel almost impossible to put into practice, but it’s the right move. Trust that above all else. Stop listening to what others think. Stop worrying about what they will think if you follow your intuition. This is your life and this is your time. You have to live with every consequence precipitated by your actions so take the actions that are right for you. Go in and listen, an you’ll always find yourself on the right path.
I was and still am a big fan of Andy Rooney’s essays. The quintessential curmudgeon, he was honest, funny, and poignant all in the same breath. Here is an essay of his that’s always been one of my favorites.
I’ve Learned
The artist Banksy raised his paintbrush to raise his voice and our awareness of the Syrian immigrant crisis.
Via BBC: “We’re often led to believe migration is a drain on the country’s resources but Steve Jobs was the son of a Syrian migrant. Apple is the world’s most profitable company, it pays over $7B (£4.6B) a year in taxes – and it only exists because they allowed in a young man from Homs.”
Yesterday I came across Erma Bombeck’s essay entitled, “If I Had My Life to Live Over”. I’ve decided to take her advice. I hope you will, too.
“Someone asked me the other day if I had my life to live over would I change anything.
My answer was no, but then I thought about it and changed my mind.
If I had my life to live over again I would have waxed less and listened more.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy and complaining about the shadow over my feet, I’d have cherished every minute of it and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was to be my only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.
I would have eaten popcorn in the “good” living room and worried less about the dirt when you lit the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have burnt the pink candle that was sculptured like a rose before it melted while being stored.
I would have sat cross-legged on the lawn with my children and never worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television … and more while watching real life.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband which I took for granted.
I would have eaten less cottage cheese and more ice cream.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the Earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for a day.
I would never have bought ANYTHING just because it was practical/wouldn’t show soil/ guaranteed to last a lifetime.
When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now, go get washed up for dinner.”
There would have been more I love yous … more I’m sorrys … more I’m listenings … but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it … look at it and really see it … try it on … live it … exhaust it … and never give that minute back until there was nothing left of it.”
I walked through Dupont with a friend of mine. We were deep in conversation about work when something shiny caught my eye. One of the hotels we walked by was completely decked out in holiday decorations: giant and full wreaths, countless strings of lights, and ornaments galore. With the temperatures in the 60s and the constant bustle of life, it’s easy to forget it’s the holidays. So I decided right then and there to make sure that every day I take in a little Christmas. And once I did, I saw it everywhere – small and lovely store fronts, decorated lampposts, and even on the faces of people making a point to get together and spread the cheer. I hope we all find these same moments every day, all year long. Happy holidays!
This is a snapshot of my newest paper collage. It’s a re-creation of the D.C. Cool logo composed of small bits of paper that were part of advertisements for other cities.
Washington, D.C. has a bit of everywhere packed into a big city that feels like a small town. I moved here about 9 months ago and it’s really beginning to feel like home to me. I’ve still got a lot of exploring to do, and this collage is a reflection of my journey in this shining city so far.
Christa Avampato 