Category: art

art, creativity, dreams, success

Leap: Success Defined by Ricky Gervais, Bob Dylan, and Emily Dickinson

Christa Avampato
Ricky Gervais - Bob Dylan's definition of success

“A Man can consider himself a success if he wakes up in the morning, goes to bed at night, and in-between did exactly what he wanted.” ~ Bob Dylan

“Forever is composed of nows.” ~ Emily Dickinson

Why do we delay?

We wait for more money, more time, more experience, for permission from others. Maybe someday, we say, we will do what we really want to do. Somewhere Bob Dylan is shaking his head at this idea.

Ricky Gervais is hosting the Golden Globes tonight and in a recent interview he quoted Bob Dylan when someone asked him about his definition of success. Ricky Gervais is a man who always does what he wants to do, and by Dylan’s definition, he’s found success. I agree.

A lifetime is made of tiny snapshots, brief moments. Our forever is now in progress; it is always in progress. We have to be smart about our time. We plan and take a step forward, and then another and another. Incremental, intelligent, meaningful. And while sometimes slow and sometimes a mad dash, progress is always possible. Emily Dickinson was right – it all adds up.

Figure out your endgame and then back into what actions will make it possible, bit by bit.

art, career, movie, New York City, work

Leap: Finding Meaning in Experiences That Are Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Christa Avampato
Thomas Horn and Tom Hanks in the film Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

“And if that’s all you learned from 9/11, if that’s all you remembered, that: My God, you could extinguish life so suddenly, so unexpectedly, and it could happen to me, and therefore I should think harder about the way I spend my life instead of just wasting it. Now, it’s not going to teach you what to do with your life, but it will teach you to do with your life, and to do it more and quicker and better. And that can be extremely valuable.” ~ Mario Cuomo

Mario Cuomo made this statement in the PBS documentary about the history of New York City. It rang powerfully in my ears when I recently went to see the movie Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. The movie centers on a family that is forever changed by the events of 9/11. And before you go thinking, “Oh great, another 9/11 movie” like I did, watch the trailer. The performances are mesmerizing. You will want to look away and you won’t be able to. You’ll want to go back home to your life as usual, and you won’t be able to shake the feeling that you need to live the life you want. Today and every day after.

I recently had drinks with a friend of mine who recently got a new job. I asked her how it was going and she replied, “It’s called ‘work’ for a reason.” That gave me pause and then made me feel very, very sad. Was I asking too much of my career? Could a job ever be something we jump out of bed for or was that the stuff of Hollywood and daydreams? This thought nagged at me. Was I a fool to believe in a better way to work? This question refused to go away for days, and then I saw Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, and then I had my answer. I stopped feeling sad for myself. Instead, I felt sad for my friend.

Work has to be more than work as we know it. Mario Cuomo is so damn brilliant and wise – YES, we have to do with our life. Anything less than that is just a waste. It must be meaningful, and not just in bits and pieces and once-in-a-whiles, but always. Every, single, day.

And this is just more fuel for the fire in my belly to work on Compass Yoga full-time. Here’s to people who want to jump up out of bed thankful for one more day, sink their teeth into life, and refuse to accept anything less. You are the rainmakers that this world needs and wants!

art, literature, work

Leap: Longfellow Shows Us How to Keep Our 2012 Resolution

Christa Avampato
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

My friend, Col, posted A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on her Facebook page as 2011 drew to a close. It’s last stanza, “Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait” is such a beautiful sentiment as we turn our attention to this new year that I decided to share it here. It’s eloquently lays out what we must do in 2012 to make it a stellar year:

We must be ready to work hard, very hard.

We must be ready for anything and everything that comes out way.  

We must pursue our passions.

And then we wait to see what fruits our labors bear, knowing we’ve done all we can to do to create our own success. 

There is a timeless resolution if ever I heard one. Poetry has a way of making us see so plainly the road that needs to be taken.

Here is the full poem in its entirety:

A PSALM OF LIFE

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
SAID TO THE PSALMIST

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real !   Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o’erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

art, career, choices, creativity

Beginning: The Art Born of Life

Christa Avampato

“If you want to work on your art, work on your life.” – Chekhov

I spent a lot of 2011 in a mode of planning and personal development. At turns, I would get frustrated with what appeared to be a lack of progress, or at least a lack of progress at the pace I wanted. And when it comes to my personal development, I always want to pick up the pace. What I didn’t realize is that in those times when we think we aren’t making any progress, the progress is really happening under cover beneath the surface. This is the most crucial kind of progress, the kind we need to really move forward.

Think of a cut or scrape. Beneath the surface of the skin, the tissue begins to repair itself immediately after the injury occurs. It starts knitting back together one tiny cell at a time, healing from the inside out. All we can see is the outward face of the injury, the very last thing to heal, but without that inner healing, healing on the surface wouldn’t matter. In fact, if we healed from the outside in, then we would be more likely to incur a repeat injury.

Think of a house. The building process begins deep within the ground where the foundation is laid. For a long time, it may look like very little progress is being made, as if all the work is for naught. But once a strong foundation is put in place, the rest of the building goes quite smoothly. And it lasts.

We need to live our art, creativity, and dreams in their own unique and beautiful form. Spending our lives any other way guarantees only that we will wish we made different choices. Living our dreams takes time time and planning. To give our all to our art, whatever that art may be, we have to spend time honing our craft and getting other areas of our lives in proper order. We may not always see the progress, but if we are diligently working toward our goal, we can rest assured that progress is happening and will reveal itself in its own good time.

Compass Yoga was like that. My writing was like that. My education was like that. My whole life, my greatest work of art, has been like that. Progress was slow and not always apparent but it was there. Piece by piece, I was knitting together the threads of my life that would form my foundation for my life, and from my life came my art.

Our art is always born out of our lives. You wish for an artistic breakthrough? Start with a life breakthrough. And then you can get to the fun part – with the foundation in place, it’s time to build that castle in the sky.

art, books, business, comedy, creativity, innovation, inspiration, invention, theatre

Beginning: Make Your Own Funny

Christa Avampato
Carol Burnett and Jane Lynch on the set of Glee

“Comics say funny things and comedic actors say things funny.” ~ Ed Wynn via Carol Burnett, Happy Accidents

Over the winter holidays I started reading the wonderful book Happy Accidents, a memoir by comedic actress Jane Lynch. At turns the book is hilarious, heartwarming, and heartbreaking. Jane has the incredible ability to make people feel for her without making them feel sorry for her. I hope she’ll be writing many more books in the years to come. Carol Burnett, one of my creative heroes, wrote the forward for the book and in it she recounts a story the legendary Ed Wynn told her regarding his ideas about great comedy.

Jane Lynch is hilarious not because she tells jokes. She plays every one of her characters with a sincere sense of seriousness that makes her characters even more funny. It’s a rare and beautiful gift that she worked very hard to craft and hone. While Ed Wynn was talking about comedians and actors (and Carol Burnett extended this story as explanation of Jane’s abilities as a comedic actress), it got me thinking about how applicable this idea is to so many areas off the stage, especially to business. We have to make our own funny, meaning we need to make the very best of what we’ve got and shape into what we want it to be within the context of circumstances.

Jane Lynch isn’t handed a script full of jokes and one-liners. No one even tells her how or when to be funny. She’s given a script detailing a situation of her character, and then she runs with it. She doesn’t find the humor in the circumstances; she makes it.

Running a business is similar. We’re handed a set of market circumstances, not a business plan or even an idea of a business plan. We have to build the creative business idea and the plan that brings it to life that links to the market circumstances. We don’t happen upon a relevant and desired idea; we make it so.

I started my career working in professional theatre, and I was always surprised by the perceptions of those outside the industry who thought we were just playing. My theatre work was the very best business training I ever received (and yes, it did teach me more than my MBA.) Theatre is a lot more than actors, sets, costumes, lights, and a stage. It added up to be far greater than just the sum of its parts. It taught me how to craft not only a show, but a story, a life, and a legacy. It showed me that the very best road to take is the one we pave for ourselves.

art, career, commitment, determination, passion, theatre

Beginning: My Only Talent Is My Tenaciousness

Christa Avampato
Paul Newman, the man who never stopped trying

“Acting doesn’t come natural to me. I’m very cerebral about it, unlike Joanne (Woodward), who is an intuitive actor. Acting to me is like dredging a river. It’s a painful experience. I simply do not have the intuitive talent. I worry about acting and constantly complain to myself about my own performance…and this doesn’t fall into the area of self-deprecation. I don’t know the things I have a gift for except tenaciousness…I never felt I had any gift at all to perform but it was something that I wanted badly enough so I kept after it.” ~ Paul Newman, Inside the Actor’s Studio

I had lunch with my dear friend, Trevin, yesterday. Eventually, he will be the Editor of The New York Times Theatre section because he knows just about every historical fact there is to know about the theatre. He tipped me off to the first episode of Inside the Actors Studio, on which Paul Newman was a guest. I found the episode in its entirety on YouTube and for the first time, I heard someone articulate how I feel about my own career and craft. My only real gift is tenaciousness. And I finally stopped feeling badly about that because I’m in good company with Paul Newman.

If I want something badly enough, I will figure out how to make it happen. It was true through all of my schooling, in every job I’ve ever had, in my writing, teaching, and business work. None of it came naturally or easily but I wanted my successes so much that I just refused to give up. And as Babe Ruth famously said, “It’s hard to beat a person who never gives up.” (Incidentally, this is incredibly true for yoga instructors as I wrote about on a post back in May.) I’ve never understood the idea that we should take the road of least resistance. All of the roads before me, if they were even built at all, were riddled with obstacles and resistance. I just decided to get around, over, under, and through them with every tool I could find.

I also tried very hard for my failures. I’ve failed at a good many things in my life, but it was never for lack of trying. Only a lack of truly wanting. I eventually failed at those things because I simply didn’t want to keep trying to get better at them. I found that they just weren’t worth all of the effort I would need to extend to make them happen. I moved on.

People have asked me if this year of beginnings has been frightening or discouraging to me. After all, I purposely put myself in the beginners seat and as if that weren’t enough, I shared all of it every day here on my blog for the entire world to read and judge (if they chose to.) For some I guess this process would have been frightening. For me, it was a year filled with days like all the days of my life.

I started each morning of this year exactly the same way as I’ve started every morning of my life – as someone who had to try very hard at every moment to make my life work the way I wanted it to work. Some days I was successful and some days I failed miserably. When each day was done and I put myself to bed, I was grateful for every single one no matter the outcome.

I am a perpetual beginner: always curious, never satisfied, and in constant search of my edge and my limitations. I guess you could say I’m a professional beginner because it’s the only thing I’ve ever really been. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

art, music

Beginning: We’ve All Got Music

Christa Avampato
by Rob Walker

“I was born with music inside me. Music was one of my parts. Like my ribs, my kidneys, my liver, my heart. Like my blood. It was a force already within me when I arrived on the scene. It was a necessity for me – like food or water.”  ~ Ray Charles

I saw this photograph in a recent article in the New York Times Magazine. I think about it every morning as I walk to my office building, joining in the foot traffic that’s winding its way down to the financial district. Most people are in suits, but I have to believe underneath that gray / navy blue exterior, there’s a musician just dying to break out from its cloistered existence. We’ve all got a little Ray Charles.

For some it may actually be a passion for music, but really the instruments in this photo represent all creative acts to me – be they writing, painting, making pottery, styling hair, interior design, or teaching. I have always believed that we are all inherently creative. This photo is the visual depiction of that belief and it makes me grin from ear to ear.

What’s your art and how are you practicing it?

art, courage, fear, inspiration, theatre

Beginning: My Night at the Theatre with Martin Luther King and Aretha Franklin

Christa Avampato
Samuel L. Jackson and Angela Bassett in The Mountaintop

“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop.

And I don’t mind.

Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!” ~ Dr. Martin Luther King

My friend, Pam, insisted that I see The Mountaintop, a play that chronicles the fictional last night of Dr. Martin Luther King’s life, which he spends speaking with a maid at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee. Angela Bassett is stunning in her immersion into her character, exhibiting a wide-reaching array of emotions from one moment to the next. (She’ll be getting a Tony nod, no doubt.) Samuel L. Jackson played Samuel L. Jackson, and I really wanted him to play Martin Luther King. Surely, he is capable of it, right? Why was he directed to be so, well, normal? Where was Martin Luther King, the most inspiring speaker in recent history?

I mulled this over from the moment he stepped on stage. And then Aretha Franklin sat down next to me, a few minutes after the lights went down. She is the closest we have to royalty in the this country. And she is regal. Elegant. And reserved. When the lights came up after the bows, I stood up, smiled wide and wished her a good evening. She smiled wide and nodded. People all around us noticed her – there is no way to mistake her for anyone else – and she quickly sat back down. She is after all, just a woman watching a show that her friends are performing.

It struck me how ironic it would be that I would be watching the story of one legend while seated next to another. We expect a lot of public figures. We do expect them to be perfect at every turn, to inspire us, impress us, and all the while maintain constant composure. We hold them to impossible standards, standards we never meet, standards we never even attempt.

In The Mountaintop, Dr. King talks about how death doesn’t look or feel the way he thought it would. It wasn’t what he expected. And death responds, “You’re not what I expected, Preacher King.” And then I realized what Samuel L. Jackson was doing in addition to playing Samuel L. Jackson. He was showing us the fear and the humanity of a man who we have canonized when in truth he was just a man. A dedicated, passionate, empowered man, with flaws and doubts and inconsistencies.

Dr. King has inspired generations of people around the world, and he did what all of us can do and few of us actually do. He picked up the baton and ran with it, passing it off when his time had come. How many of us will have the courage to do the same?

adventure, art, choices, courage, creativity, justice

Beginning: Satyagraha at the Metropolitan Opera and What Gandhi Teaches Us About Being a Beginner

Christa Avampato
Scene from Satyagraha at the Metropolitan Opera

Upon the very strong advice of my friend and mentor, Richard, I bought a ticket to see the Metropolitan Opera’s final performance of Satyagraha (“truth force” in Sanskrit), an opera by Philip Glass that tells the story of Gandhi’s life in South Africa through the ancient Hindu text of the Bhagavad Gita. The Gita is also one of the primary teaching tools in yoga classes and in yoga teacher trainings. Yogis live by its lessons.

The visual representation and innovative use of puppetry in Satyagraha was stunning. The lighting and sound of Sanskrit (rarely heard today in this country, save for the occasional phrase in a yoga studio) set to music lit up all of my senses while also giving me a true sense of peace and resolve. I was in a very meditative state during the entire production. In the program, I learned that it took over 10 years of tireless effort by Philip Glass and his collaborators to complete.

The Gandhi we know who changed the world with his campaigns of nonviolent resistance against social injustice  spent over 2 decades testing and refining his methods in South Africa after facing fierce personal discrimination. His movement began on an incredibly small-scale and remained small for years. It was his persistence and absolute confidence in his mission that brought him to prominence and influence.

Satyagraha was a particularly personal performance for me on a number of levels:

Yoga
I went on December 1st, the 19th anniversary of my father’s passing. The circumstances of his life and death have fueled my own yoga journey and the healing found along that journey spurred my desire to teach and to form Compass Yoga.

South Africa
While I was a graduate student at the Darden School, I went to South Africa as part of a cultural exchange class. For many years, I dreamed of going to Africa. As an elementary school student, I was fascinated by learning about the cultures there and somehow felt as though I oddly belonged in Africa even though I was very young and had never even left the East Coast of the US, much less traveled to Africa. For me, South Africa was a dream and I hope to return someday. Perhaps to even live there for some time.

India
In May, my friend, Rob, and I will be traveling to India on another long-overdue trip of a lifetime. India is the seat of so much philosophical history and the root of yoga. I expect it to be one of those places that changes me forever, how I see the world and how I see myself in this world.

Gandhi’s Lesson: Do or Don’t
Choosing to begin and undertake an auspicious project – whether it is a mission of social justice or an opera that chronicles the life of a towering historical figure through an ancient text in a language that few people understand – takes courage and faith. There are moments of grave doubt, fear, and anxiety for all people who choose to live a life of meaning and service to the greater good. What separates those from those who do and those who don’t is that those who do see something that bothers them, really bothers them, and decide that they have within themselves the ability, endurance, and dedication to generate great change.

It really is that simple – either we do or we don’t. We get the lives that we have the guts to begin and create. 

art, creativity, religion, yoga

Beginning: The Spiritual Nature of Yoga

Christa Avampato
© Rassouli

“Being ‘spiritual’ simply means being willing to look into the nature of life, to ask questions and to wonder, and to listen. It also means seeing art everywhere.” ~ Quang Ho via Daily Good

I’m often asked by friends, family members, and students who are new to yoga whether or not they can do yoga and still maintain their own religious beliefs. They’ve heard about yoga being a spiritual practice and they’re concerned that they will walk into a yoga studio only to have a competing belief system pushed onto them.

My answer is always the same – yes, there is a spiritual side to a yoga practice and yes, you can still keep your own religious beliefs. Yoga respects and welcomes anyone and everyone, just as they are. With Quang Ho’s beautiful words in mind, yoga will ask us to check in, observe, ask questions and wait for the answers. There is no way to hurry the process of getting to know our true nature – it unfolds in its own time, on its own terms.

And if we can be both persistent and patient, we will find that our true nature is indeed a work of art.