The last photo I took of Phinny before I rushed him to the ER 4 hours later.
Dear Phinny, Today marks one year since I held you. One year since I felt the weight of your perfect body in my arms. One year since I kissed your forehead between your sweet honey eyes. And yet, you have never left me. Not really. Your spirit has been with me every day. Your ashes sit on your ofrenda, next to your portrait and photograph, toys, food bowl, sweater, harness, collar, and leash. The last bed you slept in and the last blanket you rested your head on are exactly where they were the last time I saw you peacefully resting in them.
I still talk to you every day. I ask you for help and guidance. I tell you I love you before I go to sleep and when I wake up. You have visited me in my dreams and showed me around your home across the rainbow bridge. The forest, the beach, the mountains. We’ve gone hiking together there. You are happy and healthy and youthful. You are living now, forever, as you did during your best days with me.
And still, what I wouldn’t give for one more day, one more hour. Something I will never get and always want. I know I did the best I could for you, and it never feels like it was enough. I know you don’t feel that way, that you have always continued to love me, even at my most imperfect moments. I’m still trying to forgive myself for making that terrible that decision a year ago.
Though I didn’t think it would be possible, I love you and miss you more today than I did a year ago when we said goodbye. The grief of losing you is even heavier now; you have helped me get stronger so that I am better able to carry it. The joy I have for all the years we spent together is also greater; you have helped me become even more grateful for our bond. You are and always will be my soul dog. I was meant for you, and you were meant for me.
In your honor, I’m fostering dogs who need help and love to heal. I know you’re working your magic behind-the-scenes, and we’re doing this together. I know you will always be looking out for me, just as you always did when you were here in your physical form. And as crazy as it sounds, I know when you’re ready you will find a way to infuse a ray of your bright, shiny spirit into another dog who will find their way to me. I will take one look at that dog and know. I trust the process. I trust you. That will never change. Our love story continues now, and always.
Last week, it snowed in New Orleans, Pensacola, and Houston. In New York City, where I live, we had windchills in the single digits. Late one evening, I was hustling home from the subway, bundled from head to toe. My mind swirled with the news from this week; I was struggling to figure out how to make a difference. How might I flood my corner of the world with love and light? How might I take care of living beings who need my help?
I turned onto my block. The street lamps made the snow on my beautiful London Plane trees glow. They’re original to the neighborhood – over 100 years old and 100 feet tall. I stopped and looked up at them, even though the cold stung my face. I smiled, admiring their beauty and strength. They’ve lived through so much change and continued to flourish. What could I learn from them, and nature as a whole, that would help me survive and thrive in the harsh conditions we’re facing?
How animals winter Nature bears winter’s difficulties through many adaptations. Some animals conserve energy by entering a deep sleep that lowers their metabolic rate and body temperature. Some grow thicker fur to insulate themselves. Others bulk up, eating their fill when food is plentiful in the fall and storing fat that will sustain them during the meager winter months. And others migrate – seeking out better conditions elsewhere until they can return home.
How plants winter Plants, including my London Plane trees, have a powerful set of winter adaptations. Some trees grow thicker bark, just as animals grow thicker fur, to insulate themselves. Many plants and trees have seeds adorned with a scaly shell on the outside and soft hairs on the inside that act like a down coat, protecting the seed to survive the cold so they can root and bloom when spring arrives, and conditions improve. Like some animals, plants can also go into a deep sleep, shedding their leaves and sending their sugars into their roots for storage. They focus on developing those root systems below ground, where it’s warm and safe. This work on their roots, nourished by the sugars, allows them to regenerate their leaves each spring.
What nature teaches us about wintering While some of us might like to hibernate or migrate until our difficulties pass, that isn’t feasible for most of us. Let’s look deeper at the adaptations of animals and plants during the winter and ask, “How does nature endure difficult times?” These are the underlying design principles that we could adapt from nature’s wintering and adopt in our own lives:
Conserve and bolster energy When times are difficult and resources are scarce, rest and recharge. Like some of our animal kin, that might mean sleep though most of us don’t have the luxury of a hibernation season. Instead, we may find rest by reading a book, creating art, writing, listening or playing music, or any other hobby, pastime, or passion project. It could be volunteering, cooking and baking, seeing friends, learning something new, playing a sport and exercising. Whatever allows you to release stress, relax, and reenergize fits the bill.
Create some distance Though we can’t always migrate and move away from the difficulty, we can find ways to temporarily escape and take a break from our troubles. Again, this could be through our hobbies. It could be a vacation or staycation. It could be self-care and time alone, or time with others who make us happy. Even a good meal, yoga class, movie, or a few moments of meditation can give us some distance. Microjoys – small moments of joy that we seek out and create every day – can be tremendous asset when daily life is challenging. Microjoys got me through cancer and other traumatic events in life. Joy is an act of love and resistance.
Protect and defend Just as animals grow thicker fur and trees thicker bark, we also go through chapters in life when we need to insulate ourselves. There are many methods to do this – trimming our expenses, increasing our savings, and taking on some contract work can insulate us economically; exercising, eating healthfully, getting therapy or counseling, and making sure we’re up-to-date on all of our medical appointments helps us take care of our physical and mental health; being in community with people helps us feel less alone and better supported as we reciprocate and provide support for others.
Equip our young people and those who are vulnerable Similar to the way a plant gives seeds a scaly coat and downy insulation to protect the seeds until spring, our young people and those who are vulnerable need protection and safety. In communities, organizations, and schools, we can collectively provide these safe spaces for those who need shelter from the storm and set them on a path for a better future.
Make progress where it’s possible to build a better future Plants send sugars to their roots because the roots are protected underground from the harsh reality of winter. Below ground, they cultivate strength and resilience to utilize when the light and warmth of spring finds them. What can we learn now that can help us in the future? What parts of our inner lives can we work on now when exterior circumstances make outward progress difficult? How can we make ourselves better so we can do better in the days ahead?
Everyone faces challenges – seasons of scarcity and seasons of plenty. Many times, these are driven by external circumstances beyond our control. Nature offers us a blueprint to help us adapt in times of difficulty and prosper in times of abundance. We would do well to follow nature’s lead.
The eBook of my first novel, Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters, is free today through Saturday, January 25th, and my second novel, Emerson Page and Where the Light Leads, is on sale. Emerson is a young girl who faces challenges and rises above incredible odds through love, friendship, and community. The times in which we find ourselves now need stories that are empowering, courageous, and rooted in history. Emerson’s story is all those things, and I hope by reading these books you feel inspired and less alone. We’re all in this together. Get the books at https://www.amazon.com/stores/Christa-Avampato/author/B073XX439K.
In 2009, my New York City apartment building caught fire. I lost nearly everything I owned, and I almost got trapped in the building. I’ve written a lot about that incident, the terrifying PTSD that followed, and the therapist and friends who helped lead me out of the darkness I’d shoved down my entire life up to that point so I could fully step into the light for the first time. (You can read some of those pieces here and here.)
Watching the coverage of the LA fires and doing whatever I can to help people there wasn’t triggering for me. However, it did leave me with a profound sadness because I know first-hand how painful it is to lose everything and then face the difficulty of rebuilding my life and my mental health. It’s a long and winding road. Fire physically, chemically, and irreversibly alters everything it touches, us included.
When I’m sad, confused, or lost, I often turn to nature. As a biomimicry scientist, it’s become a habit for me to ask, “What would nature do?” Nature has faced fire for hundreds of megaannums; the first evidence of it appears in the fossil record about 420 million years ago, with charcoaled plant remains. (By comparison, the mass extinction of dinosaurs happened about 66 million years ago.) When destroyed by fire, how does nature rebuild? Time, variety, and assistance.
Rebuilding requires time The dramatic before and after photos of a fire may lead us to believe that the rebuilding begins as soon as the fire is snuffed out. However, without plants to anchor the soil, storms that follow wildfires can cause even more damage through massive flooding and erosion. The post-fire damage can continue for years.
After my fire, my PTSD caused years of difficulty, long after I had a new home and had replaced my belongings. This was also true when I finished active cancer treatment many years later. The effects of life-altering events cannot be immediately known. Healing isn’t linear and it often takes longer than we’d like. The impacts unfold at a pace that we don’t control. Give yourself the space and grace to take it all in, process it, and move forward on whatever timeline you need.
Rebuilding requires variety After a fire, nature re-establishes itself by re-anchoring the soil. Native plants that have that ability are the first to take root. That includes hardy varieties of grasses, trees, and shrubs that can survive through harsh conditions. Their ability to stabilize the landscape paves the way for an even greater variety of plants to return with time.
When we’re rebuilding, we can feel overwhelmed. We want everything to immediately go back to the way it was, and the fact that we know it can’t be that way can leave us feeling paralyzed. Focusing on one step at a time and prioritizing immediate steps that make other steps possible, can help.
When I moved into my new apartment after my fire, I had 2 plastic CVS bags of belongings and an air mattress I borrowed from a friend. The emptiness of that space gave me so much anxiety. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and asked myself, “What do I need right now?” I needed a toothbrush, a towel, and some soap. So, I went and got those three small things. That was the groundwork I needed on that first day, in that first moment. The rest could wait.
Rebuilding requires assistance While these native plants begin to grow, invasive species will often try to muscle their way into the space. Rewilders and forestry experts will often give nature a hand by removing invasive species, allowing native plants the time, space, and resources they need to grow and develop.
My PTSD was an invasive species. Anxiety, nightmares, and suicidal thoughts tried to set up shop in my mind and body. Sometimes they succeeded. One time I woke up sitting on the sidewalk crying. I had no idea how I got there, nor how long I’d been there. My PTSD was causing me to have blackouts.
I was afraid to be home, and I was afraid to not be home. Every siren was cause for internal alarm, and New York City has a lot of sirens.
Friends and my therapist offered to help, and though I tried to brush them off, some were persistent. They were my rewilders. They showed up against my objections and began to help me pull the weeds of PTSD from my mind and body. It wasn’t a pleasant experience for any of us, but it was necessary. Without them, I wouldn’t be here. The PTSD would have taken over, preventing my recovery.
When you go through something traumatic, ask for and accept help. When you see someone going through trauma, don’t wait to be asked to help. Show up and lend a hand. None of us get through recovery alone.
Encouragement for Angelenos Los Angeles, we’re with you. You’re not alone in any of this. This whole nation cares what happens to you, and we’ll continue to care and help you get back on your feet. The ground is already being seeded with love, donations, and generosity. The road to recovery will be long and difficult, and we’ll be there to build it with you. Nature has given us the blueprint.
A friend asked me to edit a book chapter they wrote about the intersection of their personal and career paths. As I read through their beautiful story, I was surprised at how much my friend discounted their own experience, questioning whether they were good enough or had a right to do the wonderful work they do.
This friend is one of the most talented, intelligent, kind, compassionate, hardworking, generous people I know. I’ve learned so much from them over the many years we’ve known each other and it hurt my heart to see how much they questioned themselves. Being modest, recognizing and acknowledging those who’ve helped them along the way, and feeling fortunate are all wonderful virtues that my friend has in abundance. However, there’s a line between those virtues and the massive self-doubt that often holds people back from pursuing their dreams.
“Imposter syndrome” is a term I hear all the time, and I want to be very clear about something: Imposter syndrome is the tool of the patriarchy. (And by patriarchy, I mean anyone who attempts to puff themselves up by pushing down other people.) It’s projected onto people as a form of control. If you question your own abilities, it’s much easier for someone who only cares about their own well-being to zip by you. I want you to take the term “imposter syndrome” out of your vocabulary and out of your mind. I don’t want you to spend one more second of your life giving yourself that condition. Don’t take that on. It’s not yours to carry.
You are capable, creative, and curious. What you don’t know, you can learn. What you learn, you can apply. The world has so many challenges right now. To get through and make this world better for all beings, we’re all going to have to be at our best, contributing what we have to the collective. And we all have something valuable to offer.
Don’t discount yourself, and don’t allow anyone to discount you or your experience. Keep rising, and as you rise, extend your hand to lift others. We’re all in this together.
The words “ecology” and “economy” originate from the same Greek word “oikos”, meaning “home”. Ecology and economy both involve studying and managing the environment in which we live — ecology being a nature-made home and economy being a human-made home.
With that shared history between “ecology” and “economy”, Dr. Kimmerer asks how we might model nature’s generosity to transform our human-made capitalist economy that works best for the wealthy into one that is healthy, high-functioning, and inclusive so that everyone thrives.
How might we move from a paradigm of haves and have-nots to everyone-has-enough? Can our capitalist economy transform into one rooted in generosity? What would that look like? How would it function?
Nature shows us that the key to generosity is trust. A serviceberry plant freely offers its delicious berries to animals knowing those animals will disperse its seeds. It’s part of their ecological agreement — an equal give and take that benefits everyone. This same type of equitable reciprocity exists throughout natural ecosystems, each member giving its resources and taking what it needs in return. Nature doesn’t hoard abundance, nature shares.
In this new year, already fraught with difficulties and loss on a massive scale, we can emulate the generosity of the serviceberry plant. We all have an abundance of something — talents, abilities, training and education, time, resources, kindness, love. We also all have needs. Somebody somewhere needs what we have, and somebody somewhere has what we need.
That matchmaking, that trust that if a call goes out it will be answered, is what’s helped nature flourish for millennia. We’re a part of nature, and it’s no different for us. Offer what you have to someone who needs it. Trust that when you ask for help in some form, someone who has an abundance of what you need will step forward. Nature shows us that navigating through difficulty is easier when we travel together.
If we can begin to bake nature’s example of trust and generosity into our own lives and extend it into our workplaces, schools, communities, and governments, we can start that shift that Dr. Kimmerer and ecological economists envision for us. Like the serviceberry plant, we’ll find generosity is a gift that returns to us season after season, creating the virtuous loop that is nature’s foundation and can be the bedrock of our future economy and society if we choose for it.
Please don’t get distracted by claims about Greenland, the Panama Canal, the Gulf of Mexico, and all the madness that is sure to arrive in the weeks, months, and years ahead.
Focus on what needs our attention and support right now: climate issues leading to the devastating fires in Los Angeles (which may be the worst they’ve had in over 30 years), the bitter deadly cold sweeping across the U.S., and the increase in bird flu and Norovirus; social media walking back fact-checking and calling it a win for users knowing it will lead to even more rampant misinformation and conspiracy theories; further restrictions on access to healthcare; continued intense geopolitical wars and unrest all over the world; the ever-growing gap in wealth that has serious consequences, especially for the most vulnerable. There are many more I could add to that list; I’m sure you can add to that list, too.
So how can you keep your focus on what matters most and what you can actually do? Don’t get it twisted. Take care of yourself and your community, preserve your mental health and energy, and do what you can do where you are with what you have. Our collective priority needs to be caring about each other and this planet.
In my free weekly LinkedIn newsletter called Togetherhood, I share stories about nature’s wonders. Many of the posts are about my area of expertise— biomimicry. As a product developer, I apply nature’s designs to the human-built world to create a sustainable planet.
A little more about the newsletter – in case you need more convincing to subscribe 😉
1. Why this, why now
Right now we have a window of opportunity to halt and reverse the impacts of climate change. That window won’t be open forever, and if we are to protect and advance progress we need to act, together, now. I hope my stories about the wonders, wisdom, and beauty of nature will inspire all of us to take action to love, safeguard, and regenerate nature.
2. The kind of community you’ll find in the Togetherhood
This community is rooted in love, joy, respect, and curiosity for all species. We are here to learn together and support each other.
3. When I’ll share new stories
I’ll post once a week on Saturdays. I don’t have any plans to make this a paid newsletter. The content is free. It’s my gift to the world to share my expertise, support nature, and inspire wonder.
4. Join me in the Togetherhood
An old growth forest is one of my favorite environments and metaphors for life. It has wonders above and below ground. Every being in a forest is connected to every other being. It’s a web of life, literally and figuratively. I want the Togetherhood to be an old growth forest of stories. Let’s go have an adventure, together.
A friend told me the time for his dream had passed. He’d missed his opportunity to do what he really wanted to do with his life. He asked me if I had any advice. I told him the story of a meditation I did to help myself heal when I was going through cancer treatment. I imagined myself as a Rose of Jericho, the resurrection plant.
When there’s a drought, this plant dries up and curls into a ball, shedding 95% of its water. It looks dead and lifeless, but it’s just sleeping, coating its cells with sugars and salts to preserve and protect them. It can stay like that for up to 5 years. If the drought goes on longer than that, it detaches from its roots and tumbles elsewhere with the help of the wind. Once it gets even a minuscule amount of water, the sugars and salts dissolve, and the plant springs back to life without a hint of the difficulty it endured.
Like my friend, you may have dreams you haven’t pursued. Or maybe you tried to pursue them, and they didn’t work out as you’d hoped. Sit down, close your eyes, and imagine yourself as the Rose of Jericho. (You might be rolling your eyes at this. I get it. It sounds hokey. But listen, this meditation is one of the things that got me through cancer so maybe it will help you get through the difficulties you’re facing, too.)
Imagine yourself in a deep slumber, curled up in a ball, wishing things were different, and enduring whatever hardship has found you. Now detach from your roots and let the wind carry you. Imagine you find and settle into a place of abundance, joy, and opportunity. What does that place look, sound, smell, taste, and feel like? (Take your time here. Really get into the multi-sensory experience. Give yourself permission to imagine.) Now imagine a mist of water falling. Take in that sweetness and nourishment. Let it fill you up. Uncurl. Flourish.
In this new year, you may face difficulties. You may think time and the world have passed by you and your dreams. You may think it’s too late or too hard to do or change anything. Let nature be your guide and lead you to higher ground.
This meditation and example of the Rose of Jericho can be the first small step toward something better for yourself. Rest and retreat. If you can, go in search of a better place for you and your dreams, even if it’s just in your mind for the moment. Protect and preserve yourself now so you can recognize and meet opportunity when a more beneficial hour, and maybe a second chance, arrives.
If you give this meditation a try, please let me know how it goes. I’m rooting for you!
This is the face of someone who just paid off her student loans! I started 2025 completely debt free for the first time in my adult life. I put myself through undergrad and three grad programs. I’m grateful for everything I learned, and more importantly, for all the people I met who’ve become friends and mentors.
Sure, I wish the Biden student debt relief that applied to me hadn’t been stopped by the courts and politicians who lack empathy. I wish I’d gotten some scholarship, bursary, or employer funding. Still, my education is the best investment I’ve ever made. I’m proud of myself for working hard, saving, and reaching this milestone. I’m very lucky, and I’ll pay it all forward now that I’m done paying back all these loans.
Christa Avampato 