Category: community

business, community, community service, nonprofit, philanthropy

Step 337: Get Involved with Taproot Foundation

Christa Avampato

Today I went to an orientation for new Taproot Foundation consultants. Taproot Foundation matches professionals with nonprofit organizations to create functional and sustainable products, services, and programs in human resources, strategy, marketing and technology. Taproot consultants donate 100 hours of their time over 6 months, an equivalent of $12,000 of services per consultant. To-date Taproot consultants have completed over 1,300 projects in 5 major markets across the country.

What impresses me most about Taproot is their commitment to create meaning, structured work in which effort and talent is so respected. They are filling the gap between professionals who want to help in tangible high-impact ways and nonprofits who want the expertise outside professionals can bring to their missions and stakeholders. They are professionals of the highest order and expect the same from all of their partners. To keep pace with all the requests they receive from vetted nonprofits, they need to add 250 consultants every quarter. Here are 3 more reasons to get involved:

1.) Have a positive impact on your community. Taproot consultants work with nonprofits based in the cities where they live so their work directly affects their communities.

2.) Explore new career paths. Many professionals have aspirations of making a professional move into the nonprofit sector. Doing a pro-bono consulting project can help provide professionals with a clearer picture of what a career with a nonprofit can look like.

3.) Networking. Taproot has created an active online community and provides consultants with the opportunity to work in close-knit teams toward a common goal with very reputable, vetted organizations. It’s an opportunity to meet passionate, talented people who care about making this world a better place.

Apply here.

business, community, creativity, entrepreneurship, love

Step 294: Love Connection

Christa Avampato

“You are connected to everything. Love accordingly.” ~ All Day Buffet during The Feast Conference

The Feast Conference happened last week in New York. I didn’t attend this year but plan to attend next year. The Feast Conference is curated by All Day Buffet, a company based in New York City that connects, develops, and launches purpose-driven ventures. I featured my interview Jerri Chou, one of the co-founders of All Day Buffet, in my book Hope in Progress. She is among the most inspirational, dream-pumping innovators out there, as is Co-founder Michael Karnjanaprakorn. I regularly visit the site to keep up with their work. There’s always something good cookin’ over there.

The quote above showed up on All Day Buffet’s Twitter feed last week during The Feast Conference, and it is now the title image on their site. There’s so much emphasis put on connection and collaboration, and it’s an easy thing to do. There is so much knowledge that lies just a few clicks away. It’s found just outside every door and during every interaction we have. We have the opportunity to connect every moment.

Love is a main ingredient to connections. Love for people, ideas, learning, causes. Every time we put negative energy out there, and particularly when we direct it at someone, we are actually hurting ourselves more than we realize. This is a big, big world, despite how small it feels given technology. There is more than enough room for more dreams and ideas and voices. And they don’t threaten our own ideas and voices. When we build others up, we do ourselves a favor by growing our networking and engendering support and faith in return for the support and faith we give to others.

Call it a retro idea to love our neighbors. Think of it as crunch-y and granola-y to believe that we reap what we sow. I love granola and I love love.

Image above from All Day Buffet’s website.

art, community, creativity, talents, technology, TED

Step 291: Collaboration Gives Life to Dreams

Christa Avampato

“Have a collegial, supportive, yeasty, zany, laughter-filled environment where folks support one another, and politics is as absent as it can be in a human (i.e., imperfect) enterprise.” ~ Tom Peters

“If you want to be incrementally better: Be competitive. If you want to be exponentially better: Be cooperative.” ~ Author Unknown, via Daily Good

Here’s the most exciting development in an increasing global marketplace and integrated society: collaboration is no longer an option. To get anything done these days, we must play nice in the sandbox and we must encourage and support the dreams and visions of others. I used to have a refrigerator magnet that read “Be Nice or Leave. Thank You.” I used to post it up at work and people would think “oh, isn’t that funny?” And actually it wasn’t. It was my truth. If people can’t be nice, then I can’t work with them. I’m 100% fine with people who passionately and vocally stand by their convictions and have opinions. I have loads of them, and I love people who have a strong point-of-view. But respecting and accepting that different ideas are possible and viable is critical to the kindness I’m looking for in others and cultivating within myself. We learn a lot from the opinions of others, particularly if they don’t match our own.

My friend, Chris, just spoke at TEDxGotham, whose theme centered on collaboration. (Check out his Twitter feed at http://twitter.com/Chris_Elam.) His dance company, Misnomer, is working on a technology platform that greatly enhances an artist’s ability to connect and collaborate with an audience. Artists are the perfect group to lead this charge for collaboration across the board because their livelihoods are predicated on it. They must work with others to convey their visions, and rely on the opinions and actions of others to spread the message of their work.

We all have that artist spirit within us. We all have visions of the world we’d like to live in. We have dreams and hopes and fears. It’s one of the underlying aspects of being human – our imagination. The tie that binds. And so even if we don’t understand or agree with someone, we can take comfort in the fact that all people, everywhere, have the desire to build the life they imagine.

There’s a tendency for a little voice inside us to get too much air time. “How could you possibly do “x”? or “Are you really qualified to make “y” happen?” We can sometimes feel selfish for getting all that we work for and deserve. Thank that little voice for its efforts and then turn its volume down to zero. You deserve to see your dreams come alive, and then some. When we base our lives on our imaginations, we’re giving others the inspiration and strength to do the same. Living the life you want is actually the most generous gift you can give the world because you’re giving us the very best of you. It’s the very highest ideal of collaboration.

community, free, justice, New York City, religion

Step 254: A Vigil for 9/11 and Religious Freedom

Christa Avampato

“Sunlight is the best disinfectant.” ~ U.S. Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis

Last night I went with my friend, Sara, to a vigil for religious freedom and to commemorate the anniversary of 9/11. I had never seen the sky lights that are lit up to pay homage to the Towers, 2 giant beams that shoot up from the base of where the buildings once stood clear into the sky for as far as the eye can see. Hundreds of people gathered just one block away at Park and Church, holding candles, listening to speeches by religious leaders, and talking with friends. Just around the corner stood the site that will become the Islamic Community Center.

To be honest, the speeches weren’t moving, sometimes inaudible, and the traffic continued to run along Church Street throughout the vigil. What was moving was to hear the message, from the speakers and attendees beside us, that no neighborhood in this country should ever be off-limits to anyone. It sounds like such a simple idea and yet it has caused such controversy in New York and around the country. The argument “how could THOSE people be so insensitive?” has circulated around the Islamic Community Center in newspapers, TV broadcasts, and on the streets on U.S. cities. My response is THOSE people didn’t have anything to do with 9/11. Muslim lives were lost when those Towers fell, too; Muslims the world over are mourning today and everyday just like non-Muslims. If anything that ground on Vesey Street, and anywhere else in this world for that matter, belongs to the global community. We all have a right to be wherever it is we want to be.

What toppled those Towers so tragically 9 years ago today was not Islam or people living in Middle Eastern countries. It wasn’t hatred for Americans, nor was it anger in our foreign policies. What destroyed those Towers and continues to threaten world security is intolerance. By protesting the Islamic Community Center at 51 Park Place, intolerance grows and strengthens. Intolerance, the very idea that has caused our nation and particularly New York City, so much heartache is exactly what the protesters to the Islamic Community Center are propagating. It’s akin to poisoning ourselves with the very thing that others used to harm us.

It was encouraging to be among the group gathered for the vigil last night, sharing candle light and a common belief in true freedom for all people everywhere. I hope that the light we created there goes at least part of the way toward rooting out intolerance and burying it once and for all.

books, change, community, government, politics

Step 250: An Answered Prayer for the City of Philadelphia

Christa Avampato

On vacation I started reading A Prayer for the City by Buzz Bissinger. The book recounts the history of Philadelphia from 1992-1997 while then-Mayor Ed Rendell (now Governor Rendell of Pennsylvania) held office. The book was published in 1997, one year before my graduation from Penn. Though I was largely unaware of Philadelphia politics aside from the fact that Mayor Rendell presided over a city run largely by corruption, I certainly experienced Philadelphia’s rough exterior as described by Bissinger while I was a student.

I distinctly remember the metal bars on my freshman dorm room windows that made it look more like a prison than the start of a bright college career. And of course I will never forget the homeless man just beyond those bars screaming vulgar obscenities as I rolled my suitcases through the doorway. My mother was horrified. The next day a graduate math student was shot and killed right in the middle of campus, just outside The Castle, which ironically served as Penn’s Community Service House where I was part of a pre-matriculation service program. Freshman women took a self-defense class as part of on-campus programming in the dorms. Locust Walk, the main campus thoroughfare, was lit up by an abundance of blue light phones and Penn Escort Service was heavily encouraged and fully utilized when students needed to walk around the perimeters of campus after midnight. Welcome to Philadelphia circa 1994.

My sophomore year I was mugged in the subway station at Walnut and 37th at knife point by a guy who wanted the cash in my wallet and politely handed it back to me completely intact otherwise. Looking back I think he was more frightened than I was. I remember scrambling up the stairs and running smack into a naval officer who helped me to get to a blue light phone to call for help. The Philadelphia police arrived in moments, storming down into the station, and I never rode the subway again until the very end of my senior year, and only then because my boyfriend at the time was with me. I was sadly not a unique case – I knew countless students who had incidents far worse than mine.

Once I moved into the high-rises at the north end of campus, it was routine to hear gunfire and watch the violence unfold out my window at Billy Bob’s Cheesesteaks as I studied in my apartment very late into the night. A solo walk past 40th Street was unheard of and a trip to the only grocery store, a Safeway dubbed “Scaryway”, had to be a group outing to increase our chances of actually making it back to campus with our groceries. Even that grocery store looked like a fortress – they had built a gate around it so the shopping carts could not be taken from the immediate perimeter of the store, forcing us to grab our groceries from the cart and then squeeze between the bars to get out.

So it was especially heartening to get back to Philly last weekend and see the change that has swept the city. Its rebound is nothing short of miraculous. The Saint Albans area, where Dan and I stayed a few weeks ago, would never have been a destination for me as a Penn student. Nearly every house on that block used to be boarded up, full of loitering by people I’d hope to never run into in any alley, whether at night or in broad daylight. Dan’s friend, Jeremy, drove us through neighborhoods that didn’t even exist 10 years ago. I was overwhelmed by the change, and Dan could scarcely believe the stories I told of vacant lots, littered with broken glass and drug dealers, now made over into Barnes & Noble, Sephora, and restaurants of every variety. It’s as if someone took a bulldozer to Philadelphia and started over.

After I left Penn, I moved to D.C. for 6 months and then headed for New York City, which became the center of my world, leaving Philadelphia as a distant memory. I don’t know much about what happened between 1992 and 1997 that laid the groundwork for all of the change that I could see taking shape when I graduated from Penn in 1998 that has now come to fruition over a decade later. I’m looking forward to finding out what Philadelphia did to turn itself around and I’m grateful to Mr. Bissinger for setting it down in print with such elegant description. What I know for certain is that Rendell fulfilled the promise he made during his 1992 inaugural speech, “Change must surely come…this city cannot only survive; it can come alive again…I cannot and will not falter. We cannot and will not fail.” From my vantage point, the people of Philadelphia have passed with flying colors.

care, community, happiness, harmony, work

Step 230: Bring Your Heart With You

Christa Avampato

On the heels of yesterday’s post, I’ve been thinking a lot about heart and passion and why we show up when, where, and for whom. For a while, we can get away with putting in just enough effort and time, the minimum requirement. Things will crank along at an ok speed. The work will get done. Most people will think the result is just fine.

The problem is that working listlessly eventually takes a tremendous toll on our psyche and our spirit. It dulls our senses and our intellect. It makes us less of who we are, and that’s the last thing that the world needs, especially right now. What the world needs is all of us at our very best, bringing all of our gifts and talents and attention to bear. There’s no glory in spending our days in a holding pattern.

We need to show up every day, at home, at work, at play, with an open heart and an open mind. We don’t have time to phone it in. Really, life is precious and fleeting and we don’t get to choose how much of it we have. We only control the amount of joy we pack into it. And the world can’t wait for us. If need be, it will drag us kicking and screaming toward our better future.

I would rather just take the world by the hand, and go along smiling toward the bright, happy days ahead where I’m using my heart and my mind in equal measure. The only work we have to do is the world we’re meant to do. Everything else is just a distraction.

community, government, legal

Step 228: Reflections on Jury Duty Service

Christa Avampato

I thought jury duty would strengthen my belief in a legal system that requires proof of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, a trial before 12 unbiased peers, and a set of due processes to equally protect all people. Instead, it made me question whether this system delivers justice more often than it inflicts wrongful pain and suffering. A week after serving, my mind still can’t rest.

The facts remain:
Mr. Bond lived in West Harlem at 60 Saint Nicholas Avenue, a building at the cross-section of Saint Nicholas Avenue and West 113th Street (a one-stop, five-minute subway ride or an easy twenty-minute walk from my own apartment);

On or about March 5, 2009, Mr. Bond was moving a couch, wrapped in twine to keep the cushions in place, upstairs with the help of some friends. They were taking a break from the move and standing around in a loose circle in the lobby;

There were open containers of beer in the lobby;

Two police officers in plain clothes entered the building, brandishing their badges, under the pretense that they were following two suspect black teenagers into the building (according to the officers, the teenagers “looked lost”);

Rather than continuing to follow those teenagers, the police officers told the group of men moving the couch to freeze and put their hands up against the wall;

Mr. Bond ran around the corner, was pursued by one of the police officers, and brought back to the lobby. Upon search in the lobby, a folding knife was found in Mr. Bond’s pocket. The police officer tested the knife and declared it a gravity knife, an illegal type of knife in New York City. Mr. Bond was placed under arrest. Eventually, it was discovered that Mr. Bond had a small amount of marijuana on him as well;

As a jury, our task was to determine if the knife Mr. Bond had in his pocket could fall into the broad and fuzzy classification of a gravity knife. Not if the law was ridiculous (and for the record, I believe it is). Not if Mr. Bond knew the knife was illegal. Not if the knife was indeed Mr. Bond’s and was found in his pocket. Not if he had any intent to use it to do anything other than cut the twine around the couch. Just the classification of the knife, please.

By definition a gravity knife has the capability to open by the use of gravity or centrifugal force, and then the blade must lock into an open position. After hearing both sides, under this definition, we determined the knife was a gravity knife. Verdict delivered, case closed. And off went Mr. Bond to serve 3.5 to 7 years in prison. His friends and family members hung their heads and cried. Mr. Bond, tragically, didn’t even appear surprised. He had no expression at all on his face. If I was a black man living in a section of Harlem infamous for drugs and violent crime, with a white judge, white district attorney, white police officers, white defense attorney who barely presented a case at all, and a mostly white jury, I guess would feel the same way. In the courtroom, I wanted to shove aside the defense attorney and do the job myself. At least then Mr. Bond would have had some defense presented on his behalf. I went home and cried, too.

Now Mr. Bond will spend at least 3.5 years in a prison system that will deprive him of dignity and freedom, returning him to a society that deprives him of those things as well. With a felony on his record, finding a job or attaining public assistance will be next to impossible. What will become of Mr. Bond and his family? How will they ever be able to have the opportunities to improve their lot in life? What has this done to their spirit and their belief that our system here protects its citizens and delivers justice? I went to bed the night of the verdict with a heavy heart, knowing that Mr. Bond was spending his first night of many within a cell that I didn’t believe he should be in. Circumstances may not always matter to the law, but they matter to me.

As we left the jury room on our last day, the judge thanked us for our service and she sincerely meant it. Now that the case had a verdict, she told us we were free to discuss the case with anyone, though she added the caveat that she didn’t think anyone would be interested in any of the details. I disagree. After the urging of my co-workers, I wrote to my Representatives in Congress and the Senate, to Mayor Bloomberg and a number of media outlets. I have no idea if they will do anything, but I certainly couldn’t let this moment pass in silence.

I kept rolling over in my mind how a system can hold its citizens to laws they don’t even know or understand. I’m a well-educated person and I wouldn’t know that kind of knife was illegal. If I was moving a couch in my lobby with my friends and a friend gave me that knife to cut twine, could I be searched at random by a police officer and arrested for a felony? I could, but the truth is I wouldn’t be. And even if I was searched and the knife was found in my pocket, I’m confident that the police would just confiscate it and send me on my way. I’m a white professional who lives on the Upper West Side in a full-service building. While Mr. Bond and I live only a few blocks apart, we might as well live in different countries – the laws that govern his life may, on paper, be the same as the laws that govern mine. In reality, it doesn’t play out that way.

I know my jury performed its civic duty and delivered a correct verdict in good faith as outlined by the law. It’s the law itself, and the legal and societal systems that caused Mr. Bond to be arrest at all, that leave me with a reasonable doubt that everyone in the U.S. is protected equally and fairly.

celebration, change, community, discovery, experience, friendship

Step 217: 5 Ways the World Seems Small to Me

Christa Avampato

“”It was crazy how small the world truly was. It was a matter of opening up to it.” ~Colum McCann, Let the Great World Spin

My niece, Lorelei, could spend an entire afternoon singing “It’s a Small World.” She lives in Florida and when my sister and brother-in-law take her to Disney World (which happens often), she immediately asks to go on that ride. She loves all of the music, the different scenes, and the boat ride. For my niece and her generation, the world is small and growing smaller all the time.

The quote above from Let the Great World Spin, a remarkable read that I highly recommend, got me to thinking about all of my own small world examples. It still amazes me that in a city of millions, the many circles I run in merge and overlap so often. Some fun examples:

1.) My friend, Amanda, found me through my blog after we went to Penn together (graduated the same year) and lived in the same city (D.C.) for two years. I probably saw her out in the world countless times, though our writing actually lead us to one another. Our friend, Sara, found me through a mutual friend and as it turned out she lived in D.C. at the same time Amanda and I lived there, and her and Amanda have remarkably similar circumstances in their personal lives.

2.) People have a habit of recurring in my life. Even separated by many miles and years, old friends pop up in the most unlikely places and I always laugh when I learn that our paths have run so close together without even knowing it. My favorite of these is my friend, Jeff, who shows up as my little guardian angel right when I need him most – for example, when I’m job hunting (he helped start my career in professional theatre) or completely lost in Amsterdam (I ran into him on street corner when completely at my wit’s end.) We barely talk between those instances and yet it he never feels like a stranger to me.

3.) Twitter, Facebook, and blogs of every variety make it easy to find out pack. I love that geography no longer limits the relationships to begin, build, and keep. Let people talk about information overload – for us information junkies, Twitter creates a dream-come-true candy store.

4.) Books build bridges across time and space. I love that the writing of people who lived centuries before me have stories that resonate with me. And I feel such a gratitude toward them for writing it all down. Those experiences keep me writing, in the hopes that centuries from now someone may read something I wrote and think “here’s a person who gets me.”

5.) I love confluence and synchronicity. I love the feeling that rises up when something unexpected happens to me and I understand why. Steve Jobs said that we only understand our lives and how they unfold by looking backward. I agree. When I reflect on my own history, even when it seemed so random in the moment, a reason for every circumstance always appears clear as day. This realization makes tough times easier to manage.

What experiences make you feel like we live in a small (or big, as the case may be) world?

community, work

Step 191: The Respect of the Few or the One

Christa Avampato

“The respect of those you respect is worth more than the applause of the multitude.” ~ Arnold Glasow, American author

For my social media class at LIM College, I’m planning to set up a series of projects that the students will complete so that they actually participate in social media, not just consume it. The class will include a section on analytics, which gets at a core question with no clear-cut answer: “Was the campaign effective?” Which begs the question, “What does effective mean?”

It’s easy to measure clicks, site visits, comments, even to track a social media consumer’s journey through an entire site. What’s not so easy to measure is inspiration, influence, and respect. When building communities, online or off, it’s worthwhile to consider whether our primary goal is a large group or a highly-engaged group, no matter what the size. Did they respond to our call to action? Did they take up their own project thanks to our courage to carve our own path?

Some say that [mass] imitation is the highest form of flattery. I’d rather a single, simple email, phone message, or comment from someone I admire that says, “nice work.”

community, yoga

Step 174: Yoga Just Means Union

Christa Avampato

On Tuesday, my friend Sara and I headed to Central Park for Flavorpill’s attempt to break the record for the largest organized yoga class ever held. Sara and I chatted throughout the hour-long wait: spirituality, school loans, and every topic in-between. The time passed quickly. I imagined us on the Great Lawn, doing our sun salutations actually to the sun, breathing together, OMing together. Yoga done anywhere is an amazing experience. Yoga done outside is glorious.

Except when it rains, and rain it did. If it weren’t for the slipping on yoga mats, I may have wanted Flavorpill to stick it out and have us practice through the rain. At first it was just a light sprinkle so we pushed through. Then the torrential downpour started. Literally buckets of rain. Everyone went running, grabbing extra mats and snacks, pushing, poking others with their feeble umbrellas. Apparently yogic behavior doesn’t always survive the rain.

I was just trying to dodge through the crowd to reach the west side of the park. I didn’t much care about getting wet – once you’re soaked, you actually get more soaked – I just don’t like the feeling of being trapped in a giant crowd. While bobbing and weaving (and cursing a little inside my head), I passed by a man on arm crutches. He looked to have cerebral palsy. There he was, plodding along, not complaining, not taking any extra mats or snacks or bags the way so many others were.

At first I rushed past the man and said a little prayer for him. After a few more steps I thought, “Christa, now that’s a lousy thing to do.” I pulled over to the side and waited a few seconds for him to catch up.

“Would you like to share my umbrella?” I asked him.

He smiled the most beautiful smile, and said, “Oh no. I’m fine in the rain, but thanks for asking. No one ever asks.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I don’t mind at all.”

“No but thank you, really. That’s very nice of you,” he replied.

I walked a little more slowly now and held that interaction in my mind. His smile was the sunshine I had come to the Park looking for. I didn’t need a mat to do a sun salutation. Yoga is lived as much as it is practiced.