Author: Christa Avampato

The short of it: Writer. Health, education, and art advocate. Theater and film producer. Visual artist. Product geek. Proud alumnae of the University of Pennsylvania (BA) and the Darden School of Business at the University of Virginia (MBA). Inspired by ancient wisdom & modern tech. Proliferator of goodness. Opener of doors. Friend to animals. Fan of creative work in all its wondrous forms. I use my business skills to create passion projects that build a better world. I’ve been called the happiest New Yorker, and I try hard to live up to that title every day. The long of it: My career has stretched across Capitol Hill, Broadway theatre, education, nonprofit fundraising, health and wellness, and Fortune 500 companies in retail, media, entertainment, technology, and financial services. I’ve been a product developer and product manager, theater manager, strategic consultant, marketer, voice over artist, , teacher, and fundraiser. I use my business and storytelling to support and sustain passion projects that build a better world. In every experience, I’ve used my sense of and respect for elegant design to develop meaningful products, services, programs, and events. While building a business career, I also built a strong portfolio as a journalist, novelist, freelance writer, interviewer, presenter, and public speaker. My writing has appeared in The Washington Post, The Huffington Post, PBS.org, Boston.com, Royal Media Partners publications, and The Motley Fool on a wide range of topics including business, technology, science, health, education, culture, and lifestyle. I have also been an invited speaker at SXSW, Teach for America, Avon headquarters, Games for Change, NYU, Columbia University, Hunter College, and the Alzheimer’s Foundation of America. The first book in my young adult book series, Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters, was acquired by a publisher and launched in November 2017. I’m currently working on the second book in the series. A recovering multi-tasker, I’m equally at home in front of my Mac, on my yoga mat, walking my rescue dog, Phineas, traveling with a purpose, or practicing the high-art of people watching. I also cut up small bits of paper and put them back together as a collage artist. My company: I’m bringing together all of my business and creative career paths as the Founder of Double or Nothing Media: • I craft products, programs, and projects that make a difference; • I build the business plans that make what I craft financially sustainable; • I tell the stories that matter about the people, places, and products that inspire me. Follow my adventures on Twitter at https://twitter.com/christanyc and Instagram at https://instagram.com/christarosenyc.
career, choices, decision-making

Beginning: Let Priorities Shape Reality

Christa Avampato

“He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” ~ Nietzche

With my recent career decision, I had to get my priorities back in order. I used to think of priority setting as a one-and-done action. It’s actually a daily process, a constant tinkering based on new bits of information and insights.

To make my latest career decision, I relied on an old technique that has worked for me in the past: I write my priorities down on paper and post them just above the doorknob of my front door.

 

Here’s the latest list:

  1. Developing Compass Yoga
  2. Teaching – yoga and business
  3. Writing – the daily posts on this blog as well as several other writing projects currently underway
  4. Freedom – in terms of finances, time, and geography

These priorities give me broad context for how to cultivate and slot in opportunities. If an opportunity doesn’t support one of these priorities, then I can pass it on. These priorities are lenses and funnels, a deceptively simple decision tree of sorts. In Nietzche’s words, they are the “whys”. Now, I have a way to evaluate the “hows”.

career, decision-making, job

Beginning: Why I Chose to Not Leave My Job

Christa Avampato

“Man is without a doubt the most interesting fool there is.” ~ Mark Twain

A few weeks ago, I wrote about my conversation with Brian that involved the futility of living on a ledge. At the time, I thought the name of that ledge was the job that I currently have that pays my bills and makes the financing of all of my personal projects possible. That job had grown stale and boring to me. I felt like time was slipping away from me in a wasteful way and so I decided to look around, up and away from my current job and on to new pastures.

As it turned out, I was on a very different ledge. I was offered the opportunity to move on to a new company. I was all set to take it though the offer was not exactly what I had expected. The title of the job had changed, as had the compensation, and there was a sticky direct report situation to deal with that was created by potential future boss. I was asked to share the burden of cleaning up the mess left behind. I didn’t know what to do, so I paused and consulted. I am blessed with an incredible inner circle of loyal, honest, and exceedingly brilliant friends. I contacted a number of them with my conundrum.

The advice was split down the middle: some felt I should absolutely jump to the new role; others had a truly visceral action to my potential departure for this possibly greener pasture that wasn’t of my design. My friend, Susan, a career and personal branding guru, was an exceptionally shining voice. (Her book The Right Job, Right Now: The Complete Toolkit for Finding Your Perfect Career is literally my career bible.) She did something more than offer yes / no advice. She gave me a way to think about opportunities. She asked me to look at the job I wanted, not the options in front of me, and use that as my yardstick. Put another way, what mattered most was the life I imagined and wanted to live, not the opportunities created by others. I was looking in the wrong direction – outward instead of inward. The focus needs to be on the road I want to pave, not on the road that is laid out before me.

My friend, Lon, offered up sage advice as well. He’s had 34 years of Fortune 50 company experience. He has seen it all and then some. He cautioned against the sale pitch of the new job and asked me to truly see what was being masked. While I believe the new company had every wish of keeping my best intentions in mind, they are truthfully in a bind. They need me more than I need them, and I was not getting enough in return for my efforts.

The new job promised a review to change my title and salary in 6 months. Lon reminded me that promises are empty until fulfilled, no matter how earnestly they are initially crafted. People are fickle; they change their minds so all we can truly know are their current words and actions. Now is certain; later is all guesswork, no matter how educated those guesses may be. Lon helped me to see that the ledge I had really been on the well-paved and traveled road built by someone else. The courageous jump I’ve been looking for starts by using the fuel I have in my current job to get me to a new place of my own making.

I received loads of other phenomenal advice from friends and colleagues and I plan to reveal the nuggets of wisdom from each one, paying tribute to each friend, in my posts this week and next. They will be as helpful to you as they were to me. I call out Lon and Susan in this post because their advice hangs together so well, and reminded me so much of advice (and foreshadowing!) that I received 4 years ago from my then-boss and forever-mentor, Bob G. I’ve detailed it before in other posts, but it bears repeating: the difference of my generation to earlier generations is that we will bet on ourselves, not companies, to make our careers.

I didn’t believe Bob at the time. I had never thought of myself as an entrepreneur; I didn’t yet know that I wanted to be at the helm. I thought I needed others to design the structure of my career. I didn’t yet know my ability and desire to craft and design; Bob did and it is his advice, like Susan’s and Lon’s, that I will never forget and always be grateful for.

change, feelings, Life, loss, memory

Beginning: Another Meaning on 9/11

Christa Avampato
This is an image of all the beautiful faces lost on 9/11/01

Today I will be glued to coverage of the 9/11 commemoration. My first memory of seeing the wreckage is still burned in my mind. I was in a Chicago apartment, surrounded by friends, and mourning for my home city. My current office building sits right across the street from the World Trade site. I pass it every single day that I go to the office. It is visible from nearly every conference room where I have daily meetings. I consciously think about that tragedy and its wake all the time.

2 years ago, 9/11 etched another mark into my history of my time in New York. After my apartment building fire, in which I lost so many of my physical belongings and gained a level of insight into the magic of life beyond anything I thought possible, I moved into the tiny studio where Phin and I still live. I slept on a borrowed air mattress and had a tiny plastic bag of clothes. It was a sinking, lonely feeling. “Is this what life tangibly amounted to?” I wondered.

In the coming months and years, I would embark on a personal journey with twists and turns, peaks and valleys, tears and smiles. I would question everything and everyone that filled my life up to that point. I would break down in terrifying ways, physically and mentally, and then build myself up again sometimes for show and sometimes through true, authentic growth, though it was hard to tell the difference. I would have to tear down my conception of myself and the world before the fire so that I could rebuild my spirit post-fire from the inside out. It was gut-wrenching, beautiful work. And yes, those two descriptors can be felt in a single action. Eventually it became a good kind of hurt, the way a physical wound heals, the way my muscles rebuilt themselves after I ran the Chicago marathon in October 2001, almost a month to the day after the horrific events of 9/11/01.

Rebuilding over a space that is mentally, emotionally, or physically ripped apart is part of life. No matter how terrifying the act that caused the destruction, no matter the breadth and depth of the loss created, time goes on, and life right along with it. Anniversaries give us a way to honor our strength and bravery in that moment of loss, and also in the rebuilding it necessitates. We mourn and grieve, and then keep going. And there is no shame or embarrassment in that act of moving forward. It is required; who and what was lost would also want it that way.

Today on 9/11/11, I’ll be on my couch with Phineas. I’ll be reflecting and writing, listening and watching, as this day, 10 years later unfolds in a very different way than it did for our nation and the world a decade ago. My only goal is to bear witness, and feel whatever feelings arise, to be aware and awake, and feel grateful for the opportunity to do so.

career, choices, school, student

Beginning: The Process and Product of a Career

Christa Avampato

A friend of mine recently asked me for some advice on how to get into the kind of work I do. I’m currently a product developer in the mobile space, and my first question to her was, “Why do you want to do this kind of work?” She was a little surprised though my interest in the answer was very genuine. She talked about how much she loves technology and how much it does for us to help keep us connected. That’s the end product, and I wanted to know what work, day-to-day, she really enjoyed doing.

The wow of an end-product and the work that goes into making that product are two very different things. I think losing sight of this idea leads many people to jobs they end up disliking. (Though the stats vary widely from study to study, it’s estimated that between 60% and 80% of Americans dislike their jobs.) This is completely understandable – it’s a fine nuance to get our heads around. I started out at Penn as an undergraduate in the engineering school. I loved science and math all through school, and so I thought engineering would blend the two nicely. Plus, I loved the end products of engineering.

I was quickly very unhappy in my classes. I hated the actual work of engineering. What I found I loved was understanding the engineers themselves. How could they possibly sit by themselves in labs for so many long hours. Didn’t they want to talk to anyone? I was fascinated by their focus.

It took me a long time to learn what careers were really for me – those that involve understanding the human mind and the choices we make. I love people and knowing what makes them tick. I want to know why when confronted with choices A, B, and C, they go for C under one set of circumstances and B under another set of circumstances, or even more interestingly, why they sometimes make no choice at all. And then I like to see how those choices impact their lives and the lives of those around them. (After I realized this interest of mine, I became a double major in Economics and History with a minor in Psychology. These are areas of study that all pivot around the psychology of choice, my favorite subject.)

So if you’re looking to start a new career, or you’re trying to understand how on Earth you got yourself into a career that really isn’t for you, my advice is to focus on process. Don’t be so concerned with what you’re creating; consider the act of creation that’s most exciting for you. Don’t let what you’ll be overshadow what you’ll actually do. A career is an action more than it is a title.

career, experience

Beginning: Putting the Pieces of a Career Together

Christa Avampato

If you look at my resume, you’ll see a wide variety of experiences. I’ve worked in 6 industries, companies both big and small, and become a purveyor of so many hats that it’s hard for anyone to put me into a traditional box. This is all by my own design. There are lots of interesting pieces in there, and a person recently asked me how all of this hangs together. (I think he really wanted to ask me what I’m up to!)

I actually do have a box, and it’s one I lovingly crafted myself that proudly carries the sign “puzzle solver”. I love puzzles of all kinds, literal and figurative. I like figuring out how all of the pieces fit to form the cohesive whole. I love the details as much as I love the big picture. I love science and art with equal fervor; sometimes I like to work independently and sometimes I like to work with others. Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How are close friends of mine. I use them in my every day conversations as much as possible. For me, pursuit and discovery equal joy.

Companies are made up of lots of little parts and because I like to be an orchestrator, I need to have an intimate understanding of those little parts. So I took different jobs in different industries to learn different skills and meet different kinds of people. This is why relationship-based jobs are so much fun to me; they give me the chance to figure out what makes people tick and that “thing” is different for everyone. I like to know what gets people jazzed and figure out how to give them more of it. People are endlessly fascinating and confounding to me because they are always changing. It’s impossible to be bored with studying them. Each one is so unique.

And I think that may just be the key to building a lifetime career you love – go try all different sorts of things. Don’t be so concerned about how it all fits together in the moment. I didn’t know this love of puzzles would begin to coalesce for me; I just hopped on opportunities that gave me a chance to learn something new. And with every experience, I took what I learned and applied it forward. All you really need is a sense of curiosity, and the insight will take care of itself.

choices, decision-making, relationships

Beginning: What We Have, Hold, and Share

Christa Avampato

I recently had a conversation with a mentor who wanted to give me some food for thought. As someone who often wears my heart on my sleeve and my feelings on my face, she told me about some advice that her mother gave her a long time ago: “No one ever said you had to show all 52 cards.” This stunned me.

For the past couple of years I’ve been doing a lot of work on getting to my true nature and at every turn letting my authenticity have the reigns. In this time, I’d never realized that I could still be authentic and not give away the farm. Subconsciously, I’d equated the two.

Putting on my writer’s hat, this idea makes a lot of sense. It would be possible in one paragraph to tell a reader the entire plot of a book though if we gave away the ending up front, the reader would miss all of those wonderful nuggets that are embedded in the middle of the story. They’d know the final destination, but they wouldn’t have the benefit of the lessons learned along the way.

Similarly, if someone sat us down the moment we were born and said, “Look kid, this is how it’s going to play out for you,” we’d miss out on the act of living and all of the guess-work and experimentation that it involves. When we meet a new person, part of the fun of getting to know him is learning about his life one story, one moment, at a time. The mystery is fun.

There is so much joy in not knowing, wondering, hypothesizing, guessing, rethinking, and tinkering. If we just throw everything out on the table all at once, we lose the power of context, surprise, and delight. When you’re starting new, it’s worthwhile to consider letting your authenticity seep out a bit a time. Let that new fact about you, your history, and your abilities be fully appreciated morsel by morsel. A bit of suspense and intrigue has made many a work of art all the more interesting to experience. And remember, you’re a work of art, too.

art, time

Beginning: Thomas Cole’s The Voyage of Life

Christa Avampato

On a recent trip to D.C. to see some friends, I popped into the National Gallery expressly to see Thomas Cole’s The Voyage of Life. It’s a series of four modest size painting that depict: Childhood, Youth, Manhood, and Old Age. I wanted to spend some time studying them to see if I could draw some kind of parallel to my life.

In Childhood, the world of course is shiny and new. Everything golden and light. Pristine and full of promise. (upper left)

In Youth, the hero is reaching for his castle in the sky, full of ambition and hope. (upper right)

In Manhood, something has gone terribly wrong and our hero finds himself in a rocky, stormy sea, praying for help and seeing none in sight. (lower left)

In Old Age, he is being welcomed home to the light that has seemingly always been just above the clouds of his adult life. He is surprised and delighted by this revelation. (lower right)

I spent almost an hour going from one painting to the other. I began to look for differences in the hero. Why did he get so lost in Manhood? Why did it take him so long to appreciate the light, and by extension I began to think about how I could avoid that same path. How do I make sure to keep the promise of childhood and youth, gain the experience of adulthood, and awaken long before old age?

Now look a little more closely at the hero. In the first three paintings he’s turned away from the angel. Only when he’s gone down to the depths of despair and reached old age does he look in the direction of the light that has always been with him. I found myself looking at the Manhood painting and wanting to shout, “Turn around! The help you want is right there!” And instead, our hero proceeds toward the rocks and falls with his boat rather than climbing ashore and reaching up. I’ve known people like this; I’m guessing you do to.

I went to my meditation cushion and had a long, deep think about this conundrum: how do we live up to the responsibilities of adulthood and still awaken to what really matters in the middle of the hustle and bustle? I want to live more of my life in the light. I asked for help and assistance, for strength and courage, for a 360-degree view that isn’t blocked by a handmade set of blinders.

Isn’t it amazing what art and our reflection on it can teach us? If Thomas Cole were still around I’d give him a great big hug. In The Voyage of Life he’s asking us to take a look around, all the way around. We’ve got this terrible idea in our minds that once we’re on a path, the destination is certain. He’s telling us to look up and out. Help isn’t off in some unattainable world; the help and hope we seek is right here with us all the time.

time

Beginning: Life As a Great Balancing Act

Christa Avampato
From http://macallallen.blogspot.com

“So be sure when you step, Step with care and great tact. And remember that life’s A Great Balancing Act.” — Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

One recent weekend I found all of my plans fell through. As usual my schedule had been packed and slowly but surely the plans trickled away until I was left with a completely free weekend. My first inclination was to fill up the time with a whole new set of plans, and then I paused. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a completely free weekend. What an interesting this to try, and it was glorious! I would have loved to follow through on my plans but this turn of events gave me a chance to re-charge.

Enjoying our down time is an important ingredient to for making the most of our productive periods. It gives us a chance to reflect and realign. All of nature takes this time for revitalization. We’re the only beings who consider down time a waste, myself very much included.

That weekend, I basked in the idea that I had nowhere to be at any time. My day could be shaped moment to moment, and not by Google calendar (which does a stupendous job of keeping me organized during hectic times.) “The busy season is on its way,” I reminded myself. “This is your chance to just be, and not do.”

This is balance: to take both the slow times and busy times in stride, grateful for what each set of circumstances has to teach us.

choices, decision-making, fear, Life

Beginning: Somewhere Between Fear and Boredom

Christa Avampato

On Friday I was having a conversation with someone about his varied career practicing law. Though he’s been a lawyer for several decades, his bath is rather unorthodox as he’d practiced in a number of different specialties and now serves as the vice chairman of a large firm. As someone who has had a varied career, I’m always interested in hearing what makes people change course and what has served as their catalyst for change. This lawyer had a very simple answer:

“I chart my career. On the vertical access I’ve got fear and on the horizontal access I’ve got boredom. Every time I started in a new field I’d be all the way in the top left – high fear, no boredom. Over time, I move down the curve of fear and closer to boredom. Once those two cross, I know it’s time to do something else.”

That way of thinking resonates with me, too. I actually enjoy biting off more than I can chew; I get a rush from the doubt of wondering if I can really do what I’ve set out to do. It gives me drive and stokes my determination. It took a long time to get there.

When I worked in company management on Broadway shows and national tours, I had the great privilege of working with Petula Clark on Sunset Boulevard. I always got her meal so she could eat in her dressing room between the two shows on Saturday and Sunday. Sometimes she’d feel chatty so I’d stay and keep her company during dinner. She once asked me if I ever acted. I’d done some college productions and some work in summer stock, though never wanted to pursue the field professionally.

“Why not?” she asked me.

“I have terrible stage fright. I throw up every time before I go on stage,” I said, more than a little embarrassed.

“We’re all a little stage fright, dear,” she said. “The good ones never lose that fear. Keeps us on our toes.”

I liked that idea. I still didn’t want to be an actress and I wasn’t quite sure I believed Petula. She was famously supportive and kind, particularly to young people in the company. I thought she was just saying that to make me feel better. Years later I realized she was absolutely serious. I learned to use my stage fright productively – to help me stay prepared and on point at every turn.

If Petula Clark and this attorney had a conversation about career, I have a feeling they’d see eye-to-eye. The fear we have in starting a new adventure is really quite a gift. It gives us the chance to really feel alive, to feel like we’re taking on something so much bigger than ourselves. We’re going out along our edge to see just how far we can reach. It’s always thrilling to find that the ground out there at the edge is so much more stable that we imagine it to be, and not by happenstance, but because our determination and hard work makes it so.

dogs, Life, time, to-do lists, work, writing, yoga

Beginning: How I Find the Time

Christa Avampato

“You have to live your life spherically, in many directions.” ~ Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun

A lot of people ask me how I can live such a varied life with so many interests that don’t necessarily fit together in a logical way. I like being a Renaissance woman; I love figuring just how all the pieces come together, even if on the surface they seem to have nothing to do with each other. I am a firm believer in connections and relationships.

I’ve struggled a bit to come up with a good answer for people who truly want to know how I fit it all in, how all these subjects and activities can live side-by-side in my brain. Part of it is my training – I’ve been on a vertical learning curve all my life, so much so that it’s where I’m most comfortable and engaged. I like having a challenge nip at me until I crack the code. For me, that’s play.

But people don’t like that answer. It’s not enough of a silver bullet. And then it dawned on me (in the lady’s room, if you must know!): most people don’t give a hoot how I fit it all in and maintain so many simultaneous interests. They want to know how THEY can do that. They want “the how” that they can replicate. Now I’ve got a bit of a better answer to their question.

Generally, this is how time works in my brain:
In the morning, I am in list mode. I jot down everything I need to do for the day, in no particular order. I add to it throughout the day, though most of my to-do’s strike right when I wake up.

Some time between 5:30am and 6:30am I head out for a walk with my pup, Phineas. You might think this is a time suck because I walk him for a full hour and I don’t multi-task when I walk him. Trust me, I need it as much as he does. It clears my head to walk Phin and I find that the whole rest of my day is much more productive after I get some exercise with him. I often return with a mental list full of writing ideas and people I need to contact later on.

After my favorite meal, breakfast (another time when I don’t multi-task – I just focus on chewing), I plow through as much individual work (at home or at the office) as I can before noon because I’m a morning person and a late night person. I’m not so much of an afternoon person. (I blame my European roots for this!) If I’m commuting to work, I use the subway ride to flip through emails and read the top news stories, again making notes in my to-do list as they arise from my reading.

Then lunch rolls around and I usually read through lunch. Again, I check the news, get through some of my to-do list, and invariably add more to my to-do list. (I’ve noticed recently that I have a tendency to mindless gulp my lunch – I need to focus a bit more on my chewing this meal.)

Afternoons are for listening and gathering information. I try to have all of my meetings and phone calls in the afternoon. I’m sure there’s a brain study here, just waiting to happen. (Now adding this research to my to-do list!)

Most of the time I have plans after work, whether I’m teaching a class, taking a class, or seeing friends. That’s down time for me and recharges me for the evening. If I don’t have plans, then I take the time for myself at home.

When I arrive home, I play with Phin for a bit and read the note from his dog walker to see how he did in the afternoon. Sometimes we take a little jaunt around the block, depending upon how we’re both feeling.

I do some yoga and an 18-minute meditation every night. No matter what. I set get out my mat and bolster, set my timer, and get it done. No compromises.

Then I write, usually with Phineas sitting next to me. The writing part of my brain kicks in when the sun goes down. I’m not sure why – perhaps because the distractions of the day have fallen away by then. I feel like way up on the 17th floor, I can be alone with my thoughts when it’s dark outside. All the listening and gathering I’ve done throughout the day has had time to gel.

Yoga, meditation, and all of the personal work I’ve done over the last two years have paid off by banishing my lifetime of insomnia. Occasionally I toss and turn, though most of the time sleep finds me pretty easily. I take Phin out for a last quick minute (literally) and then I try to shut off the lights just after I catch the top stories of the 11pm news.

That’s an average work day for me. So far, it’s working though I’m always open to changing it up as needed. How does your day map out? How do you get it all done?