Category: family

family, holiday

Step 171: A Father’s Day Tribute to All My Dads

Christa Avampato

I’ve had the great good fortune to have a lot of dads in my life in the truest sense of the world. Men who showed up in my life who loved me, took care of me, and have always been supportive of me and my decisions. On this Father’s Day, a little tribute to each of them:

Joe – my mom’s long-time boyfriend whom we call my step-father because he’s a much more central figure in our lives than just being termed my mom’s boyfriend. We never asked if we could call him our step-father, and he’s never objected to it. We have a good understanding that way. He helped move me in and out of college dorms, then in and out of countless apartments and storage units after college. He danced the Father’s dance with my sister at her wedding. He’s been a big part of all of our holidays, birthdays, and special occasions for 17 years and this summer he and my mom are moving down to Florida to be in the warm weather and be closer to my sister and her family. Without him, I’m not sure my mom would have made this move and I know it’s the best thing for her health. I’m certain that they’re adding years to their lives with this move and for his leadership is moving this idea forward, I’m forever grateful.

Joey – my older brother always felt responsible for my sister and I as kids, though I have to say that sometimes I think we tried to take even better care of him. He bore a large burden growing up as the only son and eldest child. He’s 6 years older than me and almost 8 years older than my sister. When we were little he never shooed us away when he was with his friends. He took us along, taught us to swing a baseball bat, play kickball and tackle football by the rules, catch tadpoles, and climb trees. All those good tom boy traits we always wanted.

Uncle Tom – my mom’s younger brother. I think in some ways he kind of adopted us as his own. He paid for my braces (which were sorely needed!), always encouraged my studies, came to my college graduation, and now is someone I exchange business philosophy with. I looked up to him for his career and independence. He inspired my first interests in business and management, and now inspires me as an entrepreneur.

Great Uncles Joe and John – we always saw them for a bit during every holiday at my grandmother’s house. Joe is my grandmother’s younger brother and John is married to my Aunt Rosie, who is my grandmother’s younger sister. They came to my high school graduation, were always proud of the school work I did, and are always interested in my various travels and careers, of which there have been many. They’re in all of our holiday photos from when we were kids, and they never forget a birthday. I always love hearing their stories about their lives when they were younger, about my family members who I never got to meet, and their lives in the early part of the century. The amount of change they’ve witnessed in one lifetime is staggering.

For all these men who stepped up to raise me in some way, there is never away for me to say thank you enough. Every one should be so lucky to have the dads I’ve had. My Uncle Joe is in the hospital this Father’s Day so I’m especially sending out a little prayer for him, hoping for a speedy recovery. If you could say one for him, too, I’d very much appreciate it.

Happy Father’s Day!

family, story, yoga

Step 117: Storytime and Yoga

Christa Avampato

When I was a kid, I loved story time. My mom would make up little characters and stories for my brother, sister, and I to hear before bedtime. One particular string of stories involved little fictional characters called the hoochie goochies who would run around in the forest and have all kinds of adventures. She’s make them up on the spot, and we could add in little details along the way. We’d read books like Superfudge, Tales of a Fourth Grace Nothing, and Dr. Seuss. Now when I go back and read those books, I can still hear my mom reading them and my siblings and I cracking up. This is the great thing about storytelling, particularly when it’s done out loud – the memories last a lifetime.

Storytelling has found its way into every area of my life – as a product developer, managing theatre shows, as a freelance writer. And now as a yoga teacher. Yoga, I am learning, is largely about stories, particularly when studying its philosophy and Eastern heritage. Even in my own teaching when I describe the energetics of an asana (pose), I give illustrations from stories. And in that way, my yoga comes from my life. Just like this blog. Just like the products I develop. Their commonality is story.

With this lens, yoga teaching isn’t scary at all. It’s just service – I offer stories and lessons I have by providing a physical expression of those stories. In Ujjayi breath, I hear the calling of lions that we tracked in South Africa. In asanas like Anjaneyasana, I see the excitement that my niece, Lorelei, gets from every day experiences like taking a walk outside and checking the mail. During Adho Mukha Vrksasana, I think of the simultaneous strength and freedom I needed to hang glide across the Tennessee mountains. My mom’s storytelling effected my life forever; it shaped who I am, what I do, where I go, and who I spend time with. And now every time I practice or teach yoga, I take her gift with me and pass it on.

The image above is not my own. I can be found here.

family, history, personality, relationships

Step 15: Lugh

Christa Avampato

“Are you more like your mom or dad?” people ask me. I’d like to believe that I can choose the best of both.

Today I heard a bit about Lugh, one of the gods of the Celtic Pantheon. He is the son of Cian and Ethniu, half god, half monster. He was able to become successful because he had the good traits of each of his parents: the heart and morals of his father’s side (the gods), and the courage and self-defense abilities of his mother’s side (the monsters). With the gods being oppressed by the monsters, he joins the gods, teaches them to defend themselves, and helps them gain their freedom from the monsters. While greatly simplified, this basic outline provides a powerful example of how to choose our better history and future.

Every experience and example has the potential to be a help or a hindrance to us. Cian’s family, had good, patient hearts that lead others to dominate them. Ethniu’s family was wild and ill-willed, though exceptional warriors. Lugh could have easily adopted either example. Instead, Lugh was able to combine the warrior instincts of his mother and the good heart of his father to restore peace.

The important lesson here is Lugh’s decision to pick and choice among his historical examples and inherited traits to create something all original that allowed him to do the most good in the world. When I consider my own history and my own way forward, I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents, my earliest examples of how to be an adult in the world.

It would be easy to vilify one of my parents and deify the other. Instead, I am trying to appreciate and nurture the very best of them both as a base to build my own life from. From my mother, there is so much goodness to choose from, though not enough personal confidence. From my father, there is so much intellect and confidence to choose from, though not enough compassion and love for others.

My history is the inverse of Lugh’s, though my journey has been and will continue to be similar. In order for me to really do some good in the world, I will need the very best traits of both my parents combined. I wonder if that’s true for all of us.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here

adventure, family, holiday, travel

My Year of Hopefulness – Journeys We Don’t Plan

Christa Avampato

I recently saw the movie, Up!, an animated feature about Mr. Fredrickson, a grumpy old man remarkably similar in appearance and demeanor to Mr. Cunningham from Happy Days. All their lives, he and his wife dreamed of an adventure to South America, and she passed away before they had the chance to go. Wanting to fulfill the dream to honor her, he uses the asset of being a balloon salesman to sail south of the border, house in tow. That’s the adventure he planned.

He didn’t count on one of his neighbors being on the deck of his house when it took off. He didn’t think that he’d ever meet a rare bird named Kevin who would need his help so desperately or his greatest idol who would turn out to lack integrity. This was the part of the adventure he never imagined. Along the way, he lets goes of old heartaches and material possessions, makes new friends, and discovers how much courage his old soul can muster. These are the parts of the adventure that make his trip unforgettable.

My Christmas trip was a bit like Mr. Fredrickson’s. I had planned to stay home to study and write for the week between Christmas and the New Year; I hadn’t planned on going to Alabama at all. The opportunity presented itself, and I took it. On the banks of the Tennessee River in a small town named Tuscumbia, I learned how the term “Southern hospitality” came to be.

My brother-in-law’s family welcomed me with open arms, literally. His mom, Trish, had an extra chair at the table, an extra room where I could sleep and study, and extra gifts under the tree just for me. She taught me to make chicken and dressing, proved that any food can be whipped into a delicious casserole, and exhibited all of the love and graciousness that you’d expect from a woman whose greatest joy is her family. I learned about their complex family history, and was included in their family photos. In truth, an outsider looking in might never know that I was a guest who’d never spent a Christmas with that family. They took every opportunity to make me one of them.

Having grown up in small town, I appreciate the warm, cozy feeling of having memories in every nook and cranny. Kyle, my brother-in-law, showed me where he went to high school, where all his childhood friends lived and hung out as teenagers, and where his dad’s artwork (and therefore his spirit) still exists even though he’s no longer with us. I saw their old family photos and then understood the resemblance my niece, Lorelei, has to that side of the family. So much of their history and culture exists in their food and the memories of togetherness that their meals invoke, and I got to be a part of it. It was easy to see why Tuscumbia is a special kind of place.

On the long drive back to Florida, I thought of Kyle’s family a lot: how lucky I feel to have met them all and how much I appreciated being able to spend a holiday with them. I’ve always found that the experiences I love most in my life are the ones I don’t plan for – the job that came my way quite by accident, the friend I never planned to meet, the spur-of-the-moment trip that I never imagined I’d take. My trip to Alabama showed me how much joy we can find in the unexpected and unplanned, and I’d like to figure out how to make that kind of joy and the circumstances that create it a little more common in my life in 2010.

Christmas, family, holiday, travel, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Balancing Writing and Living in Alabama

Christa Avampato

Writing has a funny little dichotomy: it is a mostly solitary activity whose content is greatly influenced by social interaction. That balance between living life and writing about it can be a tricky one to manage, particularly if you write on a part-time basis while working at another full-time job. And yet, that balance is critical to creating a body of writing that is poignant and relevant. Without the social interaction piece, writing becomes flat and dull.

This week I’m in Florida with my sister, brother-in-law, and niece. They are packing up on Christmas afternoon to head to Alabama to see his family and I was planning to stay here at their home to study for the GRE and to write. Yesterday at lunch, we started talking about the possibility of me going to Alabama along with them. As it turns out, that ride will give me a lot of time to study and I’ll have my own toasty bedroom to write and learn GRE vocabulary words until my heart’s content.

At first, I immediately thought that there is just no way I can go to Alabama. I have a to-do list that needs doin’. And it’s so much time in the car, and I’m already traveling to Fort Lauderdale to celebrate the New Year with friends. I mean, I need my rest!

And then I thought, well, what exactly is it that I’m resting up for? Should I stay home alone with my GRE book and my computer, or would it be better to be with people I love and get all of my work done, too? With that thought, what other choice was there? Staying home alone just felt like a horribly empty option, especially at this time of year. All I could think of was an image of the Grinch high up in his home, alone for the holidays. Life was a lot sweeter when he came down off his mountain, and I bet his writing was better, too.

For me, the holidays are about family and friends and dashing here and there and loving it. My writing is about that, too. So my books, my laptop, and my family are hitting the road to Sweet Home Alabama in about 24 hours to see what we can find. If nothing else, it’s got to make for some interesting writing and fun holiday memories.
dreams, family, friendship, future, thankful, thanksgiving

My Year of Hopefulness – More Thankful Than Ever

Christa Avampato

“A thankful heart is not only the greatest virtue, but the parent of all the other virtues.” ~ Cicero


This Thanksgiving is a particularly special one for me. All week I have been with my family in Florida, playing and laughing and cooking, grateful for all of this time with them. I’ve never spent this much time with them over the holidays. In a year that has been so difficult, in a year when I came very close to not being here at all, I can hardly think of something I’m not grateful for. This Thanksgiving was a big milestone for me because I have been using it as a marker to a time I wanted to get to, a time when I would be in a position to make some big decisions about my life going forward. And this week I have – applying to a PhD program, formulating my own business plan, signing up for a full yoga teacher certification course. Life is looking grand from this side of Thanksgiving.

Today I am very thankful for my family and friends and mentors, people who have not only been supporting me through this difficult year, but also encouraging me to get the most out of my time here.
Earlier this week Weez and I went to the grocery store to do some Thanksgiving shopping and we talked about the fire in my apartment building. I told her how that event really eradicated any fear I have about all aspects of my future; when you almost don’t get a tomorrow, every day is gravy so I might as well get on with doing exactly what I want to do with my days. No more compromises. There’s no sense in waiting. She agreed, as has everyone in my life that I’ve talked to about this experience. That fire made every day Thanksgiving for me.

I’m grateful for my health and my ability to imagine a new future with new dreams. Surprisingly, I’m thankful for all that I lost this year because it has made me so grateful for what I have. It cleaned out my life and made room for a drastically better future than the life I was living. It made me realize that a lot of good can be created from something terrible so long as we have the right attitude, so long as we embrace the idea that everything we live through can be an opportunity for learning, for strength, for love. It’s this learning, strength, and love that I am most thankful for and I plan to use this thankfulness to bring these new dreams of mine to life.
animals, family, friendship, hope, loss, love, pets, sadness

My Year of Hopefulness – Lunch with God

Christa Avampato

On Monday afternoon, I got angry. Throughout the day I found myself running into the ladies room for short spurts of tears, and then cleaned myself up and returned to my desk. I don’t like to work this way but the heavy load demands it at the moment. In the shower this morning, as I was crying, again, over the loss of our family dog, I started to shake my head in disbelief. How could the Universe let this happen?

At lunch time, I went to my favorite little sandwich shop and took a seat in Trinity Churchyard near Alexander Hamilton. I’ve been going to Trinity a lot during lunch lately. Last night I didn’t sleep too well and I thought a walk over to Trinity might help me clear my head. And then something very odd happened, as if Hamilton’s feisty spirit and his inability to ignore injustice inspired me. I was tearing up behind my sunglasses and then this burst of anger came to the forefront of my mind. It was a little un-nerving because I am not at all an angry person by nature. Anger, mine or anyone else’s, makes me very nervous. Without being able to stop it, I began to have a stern conversation with God, silently.


“I really hope you’re happy because now you’ve really done it. You have screwed up royally here. It wasn’t enough to have my apartment building catch fire, have me almost get trapped inside, and then destroy most of my belongings with smoke. You had to take my dog, too? Really? You must be really proud of yourself up there, divine and content, messing with all of us down here. My sister’s crying. My brother-in-law’s crying. I’m crying. I accept that most of the losses that I’ve had in my life were timely. Sebastian’s was not. He was only 7! Our last dog lived to be 17! A full decade longer! I hate to say it, God, but you were wrong on this one. Completely wrong. I must emphatically disagree with you; it was not Sebastian’s time yet. You pulled the plug on him way too early and I’m really pissed off at you for that. We needed some more years with him. He deserved some more years with us. I really hope the next time something like this comes up, you think a little bit harder about what you’re doing. And by the way, I have had more than my fair share of sadness this month. Actually, I’ve had enough for the remainder of the year, maybe for the remainder of the next few years so you are really going to have to back off. I’m sick of going through boxes of tissues in a day. I’m sick of feeling disappointed and sad and frustrated and scared. There’s a big ol’ lesson in all of this for me. I get it. I hear you. ‘Nothing is permanent.’ Fine. ‘We have to be flexible.’ Got it. ‘We need to accept that with great love must also come great loss.’ Check. ‘Some days, we’re the pigeon and some days we’re the statue.’ I understand that, and I’m telling you I’ve reached my quota of statue days. Enough!”


And then I let out a big, big sigh. I looked over at Alexander Hamilton, and then around at the other people sitting near me having lunch. And though my thoughts just now raged inside my mind, it seems that no one else heard me. Except God. He heard me. I knew he did, and I think he’s a little ashamed of his recent behavior toward me. And he should be. The piling up of this month’s events was really uncalled for. Whew – that was scary but it felt great. I needed to get that out.


As I got back onto Broadway and headed North, I found my smile again. I even laughed a little. I just yelled at God – really yelled at him. (I’ve never yelled at anyone like that ever. Actually, I can’t even remember the last time I raised my voice. I was probably a teenager!) Tiny little me, 5’2”, 110-pound me, just yelled at the Creator of the Universe. And he listened. He didn’t try to deny my grief or anger or sadness. He didn’t try to make it better or soothe my weary mind. He showed up and just listened. He eeked out a very small “I’m sorry” and I whispered back “I accept your apology.”


We have a funny relationship, God and I. Throughout my life I have at times adored him and doubted him. Sometimes I have flat out walked away and left him in the dust. And then I realized that I wanted him back, and when I peeked around the corner of faith again, a little embarrassed that I stormed off, there he was. Right where I left him. Waiting patiently, just like Sebastian would wait for us to get home. They’re more alike than I realized. Animals are more virtuous that we recognize – they might be the closest we ever get to a holy presence on Earth. I think God and I are going to be okay now. And I think Sebastian is okay, too.


As I got closer to my office, I felt that awful terrible weight from Sunday lift off my heart slightly. It’s still there. I got over my apartment and belongings going up in smoke, though I really miss Sebastian, and always, always will. I miss knowing that he’s not in the world anymore. That I won’t be able to hug him again, or take him for a walk, or rub his cute little belly. I would have liked just one more hug, and sadly that wish will not be fulfilled until I cross over to where he is now. Waiting for us, as he always was here on Earth. God better make sure Sebastian’s up there, well taken care of, and ready for me to take him for his walk when we all get back together again.


My friend, Amy, is a conflict resolution and trauma expert. I spent a long time on the phone with her on Sunday night, talking through what I’ve been feeling this month. She refers to this process of grief as the glass of water analogy. We can think of difficult times as being a specific amount of water and ourselves as glasses. Each time we encounter something difficult, the respective amount of water gets poured into our glass. I could have dealt with any one of the sad circumstances from this month, but putting them all together within 3 weeks’ times was just too much and my glass has overflowed with sadness.


The overflow happens sometimes, and as my pal, Laura, said to me “it sucks and it’s okay to feel like it sucks for a while.” Eventually the only thing to do is to sop up the excess water and start to empty our glass, even it’s just one little teaspoon at a time. The love and support from my friends and family this month has been such an amazing source of strength, and they’re helping me bail out the water from my glass. It’s going to take me a little time to get that glass emptied but I am 100% committed to getting it done. Alison Krauss, one of my favorite musicians, sings a song that goes “Just get me through December, A promise I’ll remember, Get me through December, So I can start again.” Her December is my September, and I am almost through it. After a very long, sad month, I feel like I’m moving in the right direction.

The photo above is not my own. It can be found here.

animals, dogs, family, loss, love

My Year of Hopefulness – Sebastian

Christa Avampato

“Dogs are good people.” ~ A very wise man

“Animals are reliable, full of love, true in their affections, predictable in their actions, grateful and loyal. Difficult standards for people to live up to.” ~ Alfred A. Montapert

September certainly has been a rough month. My most recent loss, the passing of our sweet family dog, Sebastian (known to us by the affectionate nickname of “Val”), broke my heart. The other losses I’ve incurred this month were painful certainly, though the loss of a family member who’s love never wavered, who always wanted to be around us, who saw us through so many days – good, bad, and indifferent – is almost too much to bear. If I had to sum up our brave little dachshund in one word, I would have to say that in everything he was constant: constant hopefulness, constant love, constant loyalty.
My sister brought him home in the winter of 2002, and immediately upon meeting him we fell madly in love with one another. He was the best snuggler. He always knew exactly what we all needed – a smooch, a smile (yes, he actually did smile!), or a funny pose to make us laugh. I learned so much from him. In all his wonderful dog-ness, he made all of us more human.
Early on Sunday morning my sister, Weez, called to say that my brother-in-law, Kyle, had taken Sebastian to the animal ER. His back legs had given out and he was unable to walk. At the ER, they took some x-rays and found that 4 of his vertebrae had collapsed together, putting tremendous pressure on his spinal cord and leaving him in a lot of pain. Because this ailment is very common to the breed and almost near impossible to treat, there isn’t anything the vet could do that would cure the condition. Now that it had happened once, it would continue to happen, and each time would be worse. The only humane and decent thing to do was to let him go to greener, pain-free pastures. And though rationally we know that this was the best choice given the circumstances, the loss is still so difficult to bear. It was pouring rain, everything outside seemed wet and gray and sad. In other words, it fit the news of the day.
Harry S Truman once said, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.” How true those words are, not just for Washington, but everywhere. A dog is the one presence in our lives that never disappoints us, never lets us down, that always, always makes every situation we face better. Somehow we are braver in their presence because they are always so willing to bear our burdens and share our joy with us. They always show up. If only people could be more like dogs.
It’s with a heavy heart that I imagine the upcoming holidays without him, this year and every year going forward. I always made him his own special Thanksgiving plate and we unwrapped Christmas presents with him. He always had a Christmas stocking with his name on it stuffed with doggy treats. I looked forward to naps with him as we curled up on the couch after a good meal and watched TV. We sang together, danced together, ran together, played together. That backyard at my sister’s house suddenly seems very empty without his tiny stature standing in the middle of it.

After these awful events unfolded, I had to get out of the house. I took myself for a walk in the rain, minus the umbrella, to the grocery store. Though the rain was falling heavily at the time, I just couldn’t feel anything. I was numb all over. I’d been through several boxes of tissues by then and quite frankly needed some more, along with some kind of food since I hadn’t eaten all day. I passed by the Petco (“where the pets go”), my neighborhood vet, and an all-natural pet supply store. Reminders of Sebastian everywhere.

Coming straight at me was a long-haired black and tan dachshund, bigger than Sebastian, with nearly identical markings. He was galloping along, just like Sebastian used to do, chasing a couple of pigeons. I smiled. I’ve long-considered dachshunds that cross my path my good luck charms. I couldn’t help but think that our brave little friend sent me that dachshund to let me know that he is okay now and that I shouldn’t worry about him. And then I started to cry all over again, right in the middle of the sidewalk. I guess there’s no way past this kind of pain except through it.

After the grocery store, I went up to the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine. On Sundays at 4:00 they have an Evensong service. I sometimes like to go hear the opening number and stop into the Children’s Garden that depicts Noah’s Ark. In the Garden, they do the blessing of all the neighborhood animals every year. I’m not much for organized religion, but that Cathedral is a special place. I feel like I enter another world when I walk through those doors. I can take my sorrows there and cry them out, drowning in that glorious sound from the choir. In those walls, I am certain that the Universe can hear me and comfort me. I lit a little candle for Sebastian and for my family who is taking this loss so hard. I tried to smile, but my face wasn’t having any it. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. After all the good days that Sebastian gave us, I can spend this one just remembering him and paying tribute to his indomitable spirit.
Of all the dogs I’ve loved in my life, and my family has been beyond fortunate to have had so many over the course of 40+ years, Sebastian was the one I loved the most.
August 10, 2002 – September 27, 2009
R.I.P. Sebastian, our best and most faithful friend
art, books, children, family, friendship, values, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Value we can’t see

Christa Avampato

A week ago, I found myself in Barnes & Noble nosing around in the children’s fiction department. In order to begin working on the scripts for my education program, I wanted to get a feel for a 6th grader’s vocabulary, sentence structure, and plot complexity. I was wandering around the store feeling underwhelmed. Where were all of the good children’s books?


And then just as I was leaving a small set of books caught my eye. Published by Scholastic, Blue Balliett wrote a set of kids mystery books that involve several main characters that carry over in the series. I picked up The Wright 3, a book about three 6th grade friends who find themselves in a race to save the Robie House, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Chicago masterpiece, from demolition. I found it oddly comforting over this last week because of several key messages it offers in a very forthright fashion – just the way that kids do.


1.) “Don’t give up. In darkness, much work can be accomplished.” I think about how much darkness was in that stairwell of my old apartment building during the fire. So much raced through my mind as I scrambled down the stairs – from “stop drop and roll” to things I never got a chance to say people whom I care about to “I will get out of this building unharmed”. In darkness, we develop a keen sense of sight and insight for things that we cannot see in broad daylight.


2.) “Sometimes when you lose something, you end up getting something else. Only you can’t know about the second thing until you’ve lost the first…losing is sometimes gaining.” It’s human nature to lament a loss of any kind whether it’s our home, our belongings, our jobs, a relationship. What’s so often under-appreciated is that losing something makes room for something new, and often better than what we had before, and it gives us a new appreciation for the things and people we do have in our lives. It takes a while to see that trade-off as a good one. In the past I have hung on to a sense of loss for far too long. I am trying to change that.


3.) “It’s sometimes hard to tell the line between real and unreal.” This world and the energies it contains work in mysterious ways. Magic and things that cannot be explained are constantly at work. Our life is full of coincidences. People appear in our lives, then disappear, then reappear again. An opportunity comes around, we may pass on it, and then it comes around again for a second and third chance. This world always has something to teach us.


4.) “Sometimes little things can appear big, and big things little.” This idea is especially powerful for me this week. I used to think I needed so many things. My apartment was filled with things I loved, things I could not imagine living without. In the end very little of it mattered. Actually, none of it really matters too much. My health and the people I love are really the only things that matter to me now.


5.) “What you notice first isn’t always what you’re looking for.” This is my favorite idea from The Wright 3. We’re so quick to judge, categorize and title a person, place, or thing. And sometimes the value we connote to an item or a person isn’t permanent. Some things and people become more valuable to us with time, and it can be a long, slow process to figure out just what the right value should be. We owe it to ourselves to give things and people a chance to prove their worth. The reality of a situation is not always what it initially presents itself to be.

family, friendship, learning, love, relationships

My Year of Hopefulness – Super-powers

Christa Avampato

“It’s no trick loving somebody at their best. Love is loving them at their worst.” ~ Tom Stoppard, The Real Thing
Our capacity to love is so much bigger than we can imagine. So big that it’s something I was afraid of for a long time. My ability to let someone into my life in a loving, intimate way is the one thing I feel I do exceptionally well. Tonight I was reminded of a boyfriend from a long time ago, someone whom I loved very much for a long time, and in many ways continue to love albeit in a much different way than before. Of all the gifts he gave me over the course of our relationship, the one I treasure most is that he showed me what an enormous capacity for love I have.
Over this past week I have felt so loved and protected and cared for. So many people from so many areas of my life stepped up to help me carry the burden of this building fire. I lost my home. I lost a lot of my belongings. It is an almost unbearable thing to imagine. And I’m getting through it, smiling, shining, rising, because of the amazing people in my life. Without them, I’d be lost. And I learned that Tom Stoppard’s quote isn’t just a clever line in a play – it is an absolute truism. Anyone can smile and love and laugh through the good times; it takes something altogether different to love someone and be there for them when they are down and out. I’m truly blessed to have so many people who’ve loved me, and continue to love me, through this tough time.
Some of my clothes might be salvageable. Today the specialty dry cleaners came in to get every item of clothing I own so that it can be cleaned properly, if possible. That sent me out to do a bit of shopping. I hate clothes shopping. One of my least favorite things to do. I wound up with some underwear, two shirts, a pair of pajamas, and a pair of shoes. One of the t-shirts says in big bold letters “Give Love”. After this week, I had to buy it. For all the love I’ve been given, especially as of late, I wanted a reminder that I must continue to give love back, even more so than I have before.
I was thinking about super-powers tonight. When I was little, I wanted to be able to run at the speed of light. I guess I thought that if I could run that fast, I could outrun any bad times. Then earlier on tonight, I thought the power of a never-fail immune system would be the ultimate super-power. With that, I could live forever. And there is so much I want to do that this super-power seemed like a very good idea. Now though, as I write from the lobby of my new apartment building (I don’t yet have internet in my apartment), I know exactly what super-power I want. I want to be able to keep loving, no matter what. I want a heart so big that it is impossible to discourage it. I want to be able to keep loving, come what may. And the best thing is that this super-power isn’t just something I can only wish for. It’s something I can have, that we all can have, starting now.