Category: faith

change, faith, family, friendship, hope, love

My Year of Hopefulness – Unwitting Angels

Christa Avampato

I believe in guardian angels, divine moments of intervention, and the continuous play between the world we see and the world just beyond our vision. While I do believe that angels walk among us, I also believe that we have the ability, at every moment, to be angels to one another.

In the aftermath of the fire in my apartment building, there is a lot of chaos. I am now dealing with adjusters from my renter’s insurance. (Thank God I have renter’s insurance. If you don’t, please stop reading this post and by it immediately through Liberty Mutual at http://www.libertymutual.com. A $181 annual premium buys you $25,000 worth of coverage with a $500 deductible.) I also have buyer’s protection on my charge card so I need to make an inventory for them so I can be reimbursed for damaged items. I have to find a new place to live. I’ll have to rebuild a stock of personal items.
And you know what? It’s all okay. I am monumentally lucky to be alive and physically unscathed. Much of that is due to the amazing love and support and concern of my friends and family, from people who read my online writing and follow my usually fun antics on Twitter. This is the power of community. This is the power of unwitting angels – people who show up as little rays of light just when we need that light most. It’s always there, it sometimes just takes a different lens of experience to see it.
My friend, Amber, one of my unwitting angels in this situation, has graciously offered me her apartment for the week while she’s out of town. I came to pick up the keys from her, and we got to talking about how incidents like my apartment building fire change our perspective. She thinks I will quickly adopt the policy of “omeletitgo” – I’m just gonna let it all go. From this point forward, all those little frustrations and annoyances that build up in our day to day lives just don’t matter. The physical stuff we accumulate just doesn’t matter. If all goes up in smoke, it doesn’t matter.
All that does matter is kindness. How do we support and love and care for one another in good times and bad? How can we help those in crisis? How can we serve one another to make all of our days a bit easier? How can we all be a part of the global brigade of unwitting angels?
The image above is not my own and can be found here.
faith, hope, love, relationships, religion, yoga

My Year of Hopefulness – Is Human Connection More Powerful than Prayer?

Christa Avampato

“The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart.” ~ Buddha

How often do we raise our eyes to the sky and ask for help? I find myself doing that from time to time. Today I got word from a partner of mine on one of my projects that we are facing some critical obstacles. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. “Pray,” she said. “Lots.”

Now, I know she’s doing much more than praying. She’s actually working her tail off, jumping through dozens of hoops to keep us moving forward. I find that with any trying circumstance, the default solution is to pray. But what are we really doing when we pray? What am I doing as I go to my yoga mat in times of distress? What am I asking for and who am I asking it of?

Maybe prayer is better directed not up towards the sky, out of our reach. Perhaps it’s much more powerful if we turn in and not out. When I go to my yoga mat and create an intention for my practice, I’m asking for help and guidance and assurance. I’m tapping into my creative well. I’m actually searching for my soul and its wisdom. It’s an overwhelming idea if I think about it too long. Can we actually tap into the energy and light around us, all around us, by looking in?

My experience has demonstrated than the answer to this question is a resounding ‘yes’. Yoga and Buddhism have some basic tenants that I try to keep at the forefront of my mind, especially during difficult times: 1) the world will provide us the exact learning that we need at the exact moment that we need it and 2) to tap into the energy around us we must recognize that while we live in this world, we are not of it. Our souls are old. They have been through many trials. They are the ties that bind us to one another. They have knowledge far beyond what we carry within our minds and our own limited experiences. Meditation, yoga, or any other contemplative practice bring that soul knowledge to our consciousness.

While in Virginia, I used to teach yoga classes at my business school. They were my small way of making the stress that all of us felt in our studies a bit more manageable. (This Winter I’ll begin my 500 hours certification process. It will be a long road, though one I have wanted to be on for some time now.) I would close each class with a simple statement to my students that a teacher of mine used to use: “the light that is in me, honors that the light that is in you.” I’ve found that connecting with people, one heart to one heart right here on the ground, has brought me more lasting joy and peace than raising my eyes and prayers to the sky. I have more faith in us and what we can do together, here and now, than I do in anything else.
The image above can be found here.
faith, New York City, religion

My Year of Hopefulness – One tiny step toward faith

Christa Avampato

“For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” ~ Matthew 18:20

I stopped going to church a long time ago. I felt let down by organized religion, constrained and burdened by being called a sinner no matter how good I was. I found faith on my yoga mat, in nature, in people – no church-going required. Lately, I’ve felt the need to find a place where I can go to be only with my spirituality, to feel that I am close to something divine, a place big enough to store my troubles while I sort them out.

Tonight, I stopped by the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine because it’s beautiful and I like the way the choir sounds. I went to the 4:00 Evensong. They didn’t sound quite as good as they did during their rehearsal last week, though I still felt some kind of comfort being there with other people who were also there to listen to the music. I was able to pray and ask for help and strength for the coming week, and felt lighter when I left than when I entered.

Just outside the cathedral, the white peacock that lives on the grounds was strutting around the church green. I had previously only seen him from a distance. He’s beautiful, with a long, flowing tail, and a crown of slight feathers. I whistled a very soft whistle, and to my surprise he came running toward me.

A woman next to me, looking at the peacock, asked, “?Como se dice en ingles?”

I speak a tiny bit of Spanish and replied, “peacock.”

“!cómo extraño! En español, decimos pavo.” (How weird. In Spanish, we say “pavo”.)

I nodded, not knowing what else to say and a little embarrassed by my very limited Spanish vocabulary (which ironically I was working on just a few hours prior to my visit to the Cathedral.)

She continued, “Que la iglesia no es hermosa? Es como en el cielo existe.” (Isn’t the church beautiful? It’s like Heaven in there.)

I agreed with her, “Sí. Es como el cielo.”

I wondered how she knew what Heaven looked like. She seemed a little kooky and I was reminded of that show Touched by an Angel that I used to watch with my mom when I was a kid. The woman smiled and left me alone with the peacock.

I don’t know if this is the start of a new chapter of faith for me. I do know that it was nice to be in the presence of something larger than my own existence for a while, a place that gave me a small glimpse of what Heaven might be like.

career, economy, faith, fear, health, job, religion

My Year of Hopefulness – Cathedral of Saint John the Divine

Christa Avampato

Yesterday, I found myself leaving the emergency room of St. Luke’s Hospital. I had developed a “subconjunctival hemorrhage” and a slight amount of “petechiae”. This is a fancy way of saying a very small blood vessel popped in my left eye and I had a few tiny red freckles around both of my eyes. I was panicked that I was experiencing the beginning of a very serious medical condition. Turns out that all of my blood work and diagnostic tests came back completely normal. I’ll just look a little weird for a week or so.

I called my mom to update her and let her know that nothing was seriously wrong with me. I wandered down the street, into the children’s sculpture garden of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine. As I was explaining to my mom that I was just fine, I found myself tearing up. Maybe they were tears of relief, or fear, or maybe it was frustration with the week I had just finished. Over the past few days I have discovered many more of my friends have lost their jobs. I’m beginning to wonder how I’ve been so fortunate to escape that situation in this economy. I work very hard, though not any harder than my friends who have been let go from their positions. I’m beginning to think that luck has a lot to do with it.

I sat in that sculpture garden for about 20 minutes and had a good cry. The sun had come out, the wind was blowing, and I felt lost. I’m worried about the uncertainty we’re all facing, despite the fact that I have managed uncertainty so many times before. I feel like the ground is shifting beneath our economy, and there is no sign of it settling down any time soon. I was angry for my friends who have been let go from their jobs – hard working, talented people who were seen as a line item on a company’s excel spreadsheet, an expense rather than a resource and an investment. I felt shaken.

I had never really looked at that giant sculpture next to Saint John the Divine. It’s a collaborative piece of work based on Noah’s Ark and the triumph of good over evil. The Cathedral has been closed for some time for renovations and recently re-opened. I was weary from my hospital visit though felt drawn into that incredible cathedral. I wandered in and it was nearly empty. The choir was practicing and I felt drawn to sit in the center of the space, letting that beautiful music wrap around me like a warm hug. Though I am not a religious person, I felt that God was very close to me at that moment, that he knew what I was going through, and wanted to help.

I let my eyes tear up again, I was cemented to that seat, transfixed by the music. After a little while I got up and walked around the edge of the cathedral, stopping to look at each of the small chapels. The light shone through them so brilliantly. I had never seen stained glass that colorful and perfect. By the time the choir stopped, I got to The Poet’s Corner, a small area that pays tributes to literary greats such as Mark Twain, Herman Melville, and Gertrude Stein. They each had their names and birth date engraved into a stone, along with a quote they famously wrote.

One quote particularly caught my attention. Theodore Roethke said, “I learn by going where I have to go.” I thought about this quote all the way home. It reminded me that I have places I need to be, where I’ve committed to be, and there are things for me to learn there and to take somewhere else. Today, I just need to do what I have to do. The acts of hope and faith are a daily process. Just keep showing up.

The image above can be found here.

Christmas, faith, holiday

Why I Need Christmas

Christa Avampato

I was raised a Catholic and in my teenage years my mother had a religious epiphany shortly before my father passed away. We started going to church regularly. I was never much into that crucifix that was the centerpiece of the ceremony, though I did find the rituals comforting. I can’t tell you why – I guess I was craving some sense of routine, a little less randomness in the chaos. My expectations for the mass were set. I knew when to stand, sit, and kneel. I knew when to say hi to my neighbors and when to wish them peace and when to leave them alone. I knew what to say and when to say it aloud, in unison with everyone around me. I liked the structure and knowing what came next. Order and predictability were a welcome retreat.


I don’t go to Church anymore. I believe in being my own savior, and trying to save other people when possible by sharing my own survival stories, mistakes, time, learnings, and a sprinkling of chartable giving to select organizations that I believe do good work. I find salvation on my yoga mat, or in walking through the parks that surround my neighborhood, or at my computer, writing, in museums surrounded by centuries-old art, and during performances of theatre and dance and music of which there are many in New York. My inspiration and my faith are grounded in my family and my friends whom I am so close to that they are my family.

So even though I classify as Agnostic and not Christian, I still celebrate Christmas. I sill look forward to the season and take great joy in the decorations, the carols, the traditions, and the general feeling of hope and kindness that envelops our society at this time of year. I always emerge stronger and happier and calmer on December 26th than I was on December 24th. Maybe it’s the massive amounts of pie I consume on Christmas Day, maybe it’s seeing my sister, Weez, or the Christmas cards that arrive by post and by email, the surprise and excitement on the faces of my family as they open presents I so carefully wrapped for them.

More likely though, I think it’s a renewed sense of faith. In myself, in the world. I find that at Christmas time I can give up my fate to the universe much more readily than I can at any other time of year. There are some people who are able to keep Christmas in their hearts all year-round. I can’t. I am grateful everyday for what I have, for the people in my life, for my good health and fortune. Still, I need December 25th to be reminded of goodness, to be inspired, to rekindle my creativity. And it always comes just in time, just when I need it most. Happy Christmas.

Christmas, faith, holiday, letter

Letter to Santa

Christa Avampato

Dear Santa,

It occurred to me this holiday season that I have not written you a letter in over 20 years. As a kid, I would leave a note for you, with a glass of milk, some cookies, and some treats for your reindeer. I don’t recall any gifts that I specifically asked for, though I do remember how excited I would feel going to bed on the night of December 24th. I would wake up several times during the night thinking I heard the reindeer on the roof, or jingle bells, or footsteps down stairs leaving presents under the tree. Every night in December we would call a special phone number (from our house phone – remember those?) to hear a message from you about what you were working on or where you were at that moment. I believed.

Now at 32, I don’t make Christmas lists any more. I am very fortunate to be able to have the means to get what I need or want, within reason, for myself. However, I do have one request that I am hoping you can help me with that I have been having a bit of trouble getting on my own.

For the new year, I’d like to be able to capture some of that child-like wonder I had the last time I wrote to you so many years ago. I’d like to believe again – in the goodness of the world, in magic, in our ability to do anything we want with our lives. I feel like “No” is all around us. We are strangled by rules and hierarchy and people who tell us what’s the “right way” or the “wrong way” to do things. It seems that we have lost our collective smile in the face of very hard times that will likely get harder.

I’m hoping you can help me be a little bit stronger, a little bit more hopeful, and a little bit more daring. Can you help me take a bit more risk, go out on a limb from time to time, and have more faith in myself and in people in general? I’d like to do my part in the coming year to generate more joy – for myself and in my community. This will take some focus on my part – even on days when I’m down, I’d like to be able to remember to count my blessing, of which there are many. And most of all, I’d like to have the courage to create the life I imagine for myself.

I know you’re busy tonight, with lots of children around the world to visit. But if you find yourself with a small gap of time as you’re flying over the Upper West Side of Manhattan, I’d love to have you stop in for some cookies and milk. Safe travels.  

Love,
Christa