I tell wonder-filled stories about hope and healing
“Remember that happiness is a way of travel, not a destination.” ~Roy M. Goodman
So often we’re trying to get to happy rather than realizing that happiness is right here within us. We carry it, and it carries us. It’s in the small moments and in the those small bits of time between the moments. If we can find and promote happiness there, then every day is a win.
“Isn’t that the point? To apply what we know and what we’ve done in new ways?”
This is what I said to a friend of mine over the weekend. She’s interviewing for a new job that leverages a lot of her skills and interests. It’s a brand new industry for her, and she was feeling nervous for the interview as a result. Look, friends, if we aren’t taking risks, trying new things, and learning, then what is the point? Adaptation is the cornerstone of life, literally and figuratively. The world is changing so fast—in 5-10 years we’ll likely be working in industries and roles that don’t even exist yet. The best we can do is work hard, learn, and be good to other people as we go. Truly. Don’t be afraid of applying your talents in new ways; just do it. It’s what we’re all going to have to do.
I met a man in the park this weekend who was riding his skateboard while his collie mix dog was trotting along beside him. They stopped at the water fountain where Phin was grabbing a drink and he wanted to say hello to them. The man bent down and stroked Phin’s ears.
“I had a dog exactly like him when I was a child. They are such precious little things…” and then he stopped as he got choked up. His eyes got teary, said thank you, and went on his way. Phin watched him for a minute or so until the man and his dog were out of sight.
It was so clear that despite the many years since this man’s dachshund had passed away, he still loved and missed him. It’s something everyone who’s ever loved an animal can relate to—these furry, cuddly pals wiggle their way into our hearts, take up residence, and never leave. We remember them long after they’re gone, grateful that they spent the short amount of time they had on this plane with us. We’re lucky to have known and loved them.
“I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.” ~Anna Quindlen
This quote popped into my inbox at just the right time. I am almost done editing the galley of my novel, Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters. While I gave myself a short timeline to turn this around to my editor, I’m also making a concerted effort to enjoy this edit, the last edit I will ever do on this book for this print run. If there is joy in the doing, it shows in the done. And I want that joy to come shining through to everyone who reads these words.
“What a wonderful thought it is that some of the best days of our lives haven’t even happened yet.” ~Anne Frank
No matter what’s happening in our lives right now, I take a lot of comfort in knowing that there is so much to look forward to. Our best days are still ahead of us. Our best project is our next one. We have yet to know our full potential. There is so much to reach for, so much still left to explore. Keep going.
I’ve decided to be relentlessly positive—about my career, about love, about my writing, and about life in general. In the past few weeks, I have seen the power of thinking good thoughts and rolling up my sleeves to make good things happen. With all that’s happening in the world, it’s easy to get bogged down, to fill myself up with anxiety and uncertainty. When the hint of this begins to happen, I tamp down those thoughts. I don’t allow them into my day. I remind myself of how far I’ve come and how far I still have to go. I remember that I literally don’t have time for negativity. The energy is better put toward building a better world, and that’s what I intend to do.
Phin and I went for a long walk around Central Park. It’s one of those perfect New York nights. Cool breeze, warm setting sun, and soft grass. At one point, he sat down on one of our favorite hills by the reservoir, looked around, and smiled. I sat down next to him. “It feels good to be home, buddy, doesn’t it? Isn’t our city beautiful?” He looked up at me and kept smiling. He agrees. Life is good. It’s so, so good.
Today I’ll be in Times Square with thousands of other yogis today celebrating the longest day of the year with the Mind Over Madness event. Come on down and join us in-person or online as we welcome the OM of summer. It’s one of my favorite traditions in the city and I’m so thrilled to be home to join in the festivities. Here’s to a wonderful season of light and love for all of us.
“With all due respect, what you read is more important in the long term than the man you marry, ma chère Madame.” ~Monsieur Perdu in The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George
I fell in love with the book The Little Paris Bookshop on page one. I suppose what Monsieur Perdu is saying is that the right books can stick with us for a lifetime on our own terms, longer than most loves. When I think of it that way, I guess it is true, at least for some people.
Monsieur Perdu owns a bookshop in Paris, a peculiar one on a barge in the middle of the Seine that he consider a literary apothecary. He’s a book doctor, or at least a book pharmacist, prescribing books to heal whatever ails his customers. I read the first few pages of the book while crossing the East River on New York City’s B train for a meeting in Brooklyn to chase a dream. In that moment, I moved Monsieur Perdu’s barge to the East River and for me, he prescribed a book to bolster my confidence and stoke my courage.
It’s clear in these few pages that Monsieur Perdu has lost someone he loved, that he spends his evenings in an apartment that used to be filled with love, laughter, and a cat. Now it’s just him surrounded by his familiar neighbors of 20 years whose lives echo through the walls. They’ve loved and lost, too. All of them.
Though the story starts on a sad note, I smiled while reading it because the connection to the characters and the emotions it evokes are exactly what I want my novel, Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters, to do. I want readers to know Emerson as quickly as I came to know Monsieur Perdu. I want them to root for her to be okay, to be better than okay, to be her own savior. The Little Paris Bookshop shows me that this is possible, a goal worth striving for.
I’ve been obsessed with store windows since I moved to New York City in 1998. At one point, I tried to figure out how I could become one of the people who create the magical display windows in places like Bergorf Goodman. Honestly, I never figured it out, but I’ve continued to keep that dream in the back of my mind. Blame it on the movie Mannequin, which I watched about 1,000 times as a kid. Hollywood was my hero.
On my way home from dinner last night, I started counting the empty storefronts on Columbus Avenue. I got up to a dozen in as many blacks before I stopped counting. There are just too many empty spaces that are begging for inspiration, art, and manifested dreams. So I started jotting down the phone numbers on those empty storefront signs. Clearly until they’re rented, there must be something we can do to make those spaces useful, or at the very least give passersby something to think and smile about, something to keep them going during these challenging times. Stay tuned…I’m going to make something happen with them.
Christa Avampato 