I tell wonder-filled stories about hope and healing
There is a freedom in not knowing what to do next. We cannot be right nor can we be wrong so we don’t need to worry about the decision. All we can do is clearly see the options, try one avenue, and then try another if need be. Once we can admit this to ourselves, embrace it and be okay with it, a lot of the stress falls away. The suffering of our lives lies in our indecision to act, not in our actions.
Yesterday Mom and I saw the Shuttle Enterprise move into her new home by way of the air space outside my apartment. She was a beautiful sight!
After snapping some photos, I wanted to learn more about the plans for her new home on the Intrepid. Over on the Intrepid website for the Shuttle, they’ve cataloged information about the Shuttle’s past, present, and future, complete with futuristic renderings of what they expect the new exhibit to look like later this summer.
If the final frontier gets your heart pumping, head on over and have a look at the site. Though the federal shuttle program has come to an unfortunate end, I’m hopeful that creative exhibits like this will inspire private funders to take up the cause to continue to go where none of us have gone before, to inspire us to seek out new boundaries.
We could learn a lot about finding our life’s purpose from a boy detective and a woman who refused to let someone else define her. These are the palpable lessons of Tintin and Katniss, the protegonists at the centers of the book The Adventures of Tintin and The Hunger Games, respectively. What’s perhaps more subtle is what the movie versions of these stories teach us about creativity and the relentless pursuit of growth, transformation, and continuous improvement.
It would be easy to say that the animation of movies like Monsters Inc., Toy Story, or The Polar Express were the penultimate testament to the reach of the art. Many movie critics repeatedly made this declaration, as did many artists and engineers who work in the field. It would also be easy to say J K Rowling will always be the reigning queen of the young adult novel series. How could anyone ever create a story as compelling to young adults (and all adults for that matter!) as Harry Potter? These are simply just not goals worth having because they aren’t achievable. Many agents and publishers have criticized new and would-be authors for even attempting to create new young adult series for this very reason.
Steve Spielberg, Peter Jackson, and Suzanne Collins ignored the critics and pushed on into their own sense of creativity. The results? Spielberg and Jackson built an animated movie that frame by frame left viewers wondering if they were really watching an animated movie. There are moments when the animated quality of the film The Adventures of Tintin is clear, but for most of the time the art comes to life with such authenticity that I caught myself lost in the story as if it were a live action picture.
The Hunger Games just celebrated a stellar global opening weekend of $214.3 million, far more than any of the Harry Potter films. Its Friday-Saturday take was the third largest in Hollywood history in a month when blockbusters are typically not released. And like Harry Potter, surveys show that 56% of all movie goers this past weekend were 25 or older despite the fact that Collins wrote these books for young adults.
Katniss, Tintin, and the creative minds behind their adventures have shown us that there really is no limit to our creativity, to our abilities to generate new stories and ways of telling stories that bring an ever-wider audience into our embrace.
“The artist is not a special kind of person; rather each person is a special kind of artist.” ~ Ananda Coomaraswamy
It’s what we’re all looking for – a way to find our art, our own unique expression of who we are, where we belong, and why. I believe we are born with our art within us and the purpose of our days is to bring it to life, in full color, for all the world to see.
Our karma and our dharma, our path, is our art. Where does it go? Who will share our path with us? How far does it extend and what shape will it take? These are all questions that we have the freedom and responsibility to answer clearly, succinctly, and authentically. And if we don’t answer these questions for ourselves, then someone else will do it for us.
Don’t let anyone steal your thunder. Go out there and claim the life that is yours. It is a celebration of who we are on the very deepest of levels. We are our art, and our art is made along the path we build.
“If you lose your purpose it’s like you’re broken.” ~ from the film Hugo
I finally saw Hugo and from the opening shot, I was completely enchanted by the characters, their stories, and the world that Martin Scorsese masterfully created. The line above was the one in the film that snapped me out of my enchanted state and back into reality. Hugo at work in the clock tower wasn’t so much a sentimental endeavor as it was a desire to be useful, to have purpose, and to tinker and learn in the hopes of capturing a message from his father.
All the characters, in their own way, wanted to have a purpose that made them feel alive and valued. It’s what we all want. And the movie holds up a few examples of those who lost their way on the purposeful path and a few counter-examples of those who were resolved in the necessity of a purpose-driven life. That purpose was their most valuable possession.
In this regard, we would do well to let life imitate art. The only work we have to do each day is make it matter.
“And just how long have we got the magic?” ~ Dustin Hoffman to his cinematographer regarding the last hour of daylight for filming
Today I’m off to SXSW 2012. I’m excited to be teaching and speaking about the benefits of yoga and meditation for the start-up / tech community. This will be my second year attending as a presenter, and I’m so honored to be a part of the celebration. While many people are sent on behalf of their companies, I’ll be there independently and ready to be inspired by anything and anyone who crosses my path. I feel so much excitement and anticipation of good, good things to come from this experience.
And all the while I’ll be thinking about Dustin Hoffman.
The New York Times featured this mammoth film figure last weekend as he hit the beginner button again. At 74, he is making his directorial debut with Quartet. Termed “a joyful movie about old age”, it explores how four once-famous opera singers have one last opening night by putting together a concert at their retirement home. Is Hoffman scared about starting over, taking this kind of turn in his career at 74?
“I do believe in luck myself,” he says, “but also in fate — it’s a duality. They had been working on ‘The Graduate’ for two years or something. They had a script and were casting, and I was at the end of the list. They had been through the Redfords and all those people. So in a sense, it has all been an accident.”
So if it’s all an accident any way, then what is there to lose? It’s like every win is just gravy and every loss is just another way to learn. And this is a wonderful reminder as I head for Austin and SXSW, a gathering of people who are taking on the role of beginner every day, exploring, experimenting, and with every action trying to make the world a little bit better than it was yesterday. This is the Tao of Hoffman in action – the magic is only going to be around for just so long and it’s our responsibility to make the best of it while we have it.
On Friday night, I went to a photo exhibit with my friend, Amy. Conflict Zone showcases the work of wartime photojournalists, pulled together to honor Chris Hondros, a photojournalist who was killed by a mortar round in Libya in April 2011. Chris was killed in the same incident that took the life of Tim Hetherington, another brilliant photojournalist.
The exhibit is open until February 17th at the New York City Fire Museum and the images are as beautiful as they are haunting. It’s the work of Chris Hondros and so many others like him, who have tirelessly recorded the images of our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan by placing themselves in harm’s way, that have made the war real for us. Unlike during the World Wars and Vietnam, it would have been easy for us to ignore the wars in favor of our own daily concerns. After all, these wars raged on thousands of miles away on lands that few of us will ever see. Unless we were directly linked to the war effort through a loved one serving in the military, we didn’t feel the direct impact of the war all that much.
Except of course when a face was put to the effort, and that face was shown to us through the work of photojournalists. They wouldn’t let us ignore exactly what was happening. We were forced to confront that the vast majority of Iraqis and Afghans are incredibly similar to us and they wanted peace to. We were forced to recognize that “the troops” were composed of someone’s sons, daughters, spouses, friends, brothers, and sisters. Chris saw to it; he kept us honest and aware.
We owe Chris and the community of journalism an enormous debt for their service, and the only way to repay it is to pursue our own passions with the same fervor that they pursue theirs. Now that Chris is gone, his work is his legacy, just as our work will be our legacy when we’re gone. Make it matter.
My friend, Trevin, future editor of the New York Times Theater section, told me if I see one show this season, Richard III should be it. I couldn’t refuse. My friend, Rob, and I went to see Kevin Spacey in the title role at BAM last week. Neither of us had ever been to BAM and we’re huge fans of the play and of Mr. Spacey.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about passion, and what it means to live a life filled with activities that are close to our hearts. As my years tick on, I’m reminded that time is moving and that we are not going to be here forever. The phrase “If not now, then when?” is stuck on constant replay in my mind. Seeing Richard III was exactly the show I needed to see to drive this point home.
Mr. Spacey is brilliant, haunting, maniacal, funny, and exhausting as Richard III. Rob and I kept looking at each other wondering how on Earth he gets the energy to play that role day in and day out. Between the physical and emotional demands, and the energy required to effectively drive home the true essence of the character, he must literally fall into bed every night. He is laying his heart bare on that stage at every single performance and we can’t help but take that journey with him. He draws us in and does not let us go. It’s so clearly a labor of intense love for him.
That’s the kind of spent feeling we should all aspire to. What would our lives look like if every day we were so enthralled with our work that we could literally pour ourselves, everything we have, heart and soul, into the roles we choose to play? What if we could all find that role of Richard III in our own unique way, just as Mr. Spacey has found his? Imagine how passion could transform everything we set our minds to.
Be inspired – see Richard III at BAM through March 4th.
Wait a minute! Did I go to bed and wake up in September 2008?
This is the question I found myself thinking while at work yesterday. September 2008, 5 weeks after I joined my company, Lehman Brothers failed and the market went to hell. Several months later I was the only filled desk in an island of empty cubes. It was horrendous. I got through it, but it was no picnic and I’ve still got a few scars to prove I was there. You can’t see them, but pull up a chair any time and I’ll gladly tell you the story. (Not now, of course. But eventually.)
This week, I found myself in that same beat up situation. Fire drills from every direction. Some colleagues who have somehow forgotten that the first five letters of the phrase “humane treatment” are “human”, as in don’t pretend we have to chin up because that’s just how it goes. Some “leaders” telling us that we are the ones responsible for making this reorg work and not them. (Not my leader, mind you, who has been incredibly awesome in this whole ordeal!) It’s enough to make anyone go running after her sanity right out the front door.
And then last night I started my first voice over class. I left the office and thought to myself, “Really – now I need to go to class? I just want to go home and crawl under my bed.” I didn’t want to talk to anyone, see anyone, or smile at anyone. So, I got moving. I hopped out of the subway at 14th street and walked 15 blocks to Simple Studios, the class location.
As I approached I remembered that I had some of my yoga teacher training classes on the same floor of this building in 2010. When I began that training, I was also at a crossroads. I was also a bit blue and lost and confused. It turned out alright then. I channeled my energy into the training and Compass was born 5 months later. Maybe this history, just like my earlier feelings about September 2008, repeats itself, too.
The class was incredible. Sponsored by the PIT (People’s Improv Theater) and taught by the entertaining, honest, and incredibly smart Ed Lewis was a joy. The moment I walked into the building and headed for the elevator I felt a release, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I left feeling lighter, happier, and more capable. I also think voice over work is going to be a blast!
My very dear pal, Jeff, is taking the adventure in voice right along with me. So here we go, folks! Another new adventure begins as I believe the curtain may come down on an adventure that’s gone on a tad too long. I’m not one to believe that when one door closes, a window opens. I believe that when a door closes, we have the ability, the choice, and the responsibility to rise up and carve our own way toward a brighter tomorrow.
I’m ready. As George Michael said, “I gotta have faith…”
I found my way to Pinterest through a blog friend labyrinth.
My friend Phyllis started a new blog, The Carb Lover Lady. Phyllis and I are bloggy friends after I asked to interview her back in 2009 for my Examiner column on entrepreneurship. Phyllis recently featured a recipe for Greek Yogurt Banana Bread on her blog from Ingredients, Inc., the site of Alison Lewis, a health expert. (By the way, I’ve started practicing my baking again thanks to the encouragement of MJ, another bloggy friend and great supporter of my writing and life.)
Alison uses Pinterest to find a lot of the images on her site and they’re stunning. The one of the banana bread made my mouth water so I toddled on over to find where photo like this can be found online. And then I went down the rabbit hole. I was blown away by the beauty and breadth of the images.
Pinterest is a site of curated images by people like you and me. Their mission is to build a community of people who share images they love. As my friend Amanda (another friend I met through blogging) said, “Fun to take a break from text and live with images for a while.” My friend Kelly pins images of houses she dreams of living in. And that’s the real genius of the site: like life, it’s what you make of it.
Above all, Pinterest is a wonderful reminder of all the beauty that this world holds, all the inspiration that’s out there if only we search for it and share it. Hop on over and check out the images that are making me smile – click here.
Christa Avampato 