Category: gratitude

change, choices, courage, discovery, encouragement, frustration, gifts, gratitude, loss, opportunity, yoga

Step 201: Obstacles as Path

Christa Avampato

“For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin – real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.” –Alfred D. Souza

I keep thinking about the idea of “the path of least resistance.” I don’t know what that path looks like. I work and work and work, and eventually a pathway opens, but never constitutes taking the easy road. This quote helped me put this idea in perspective. When I think about the things I’m most proud of in my life, they all resulted from overcoming obstacles. It wasn’t always a fun journey, but the results were worth it.

I’ve written about Ganesha, the Hindu god of obstacles, and how much I learned about him during my yoga teacher training. Some people have interpreted his role as a remover of obstacles. That view is mostly right. It needs the addition of “removed of obstacles on our life’s path.” Sometimes, as Alfred Souza so eloquently states, obstacles need to be placed in our way to help us realize our path.

There’s no shame in having obstacles; there’s no need for us to bemoan their presence. They can be our reasons to be grateful. They show us our strength, and if we can recognize their gifts and their reasons for being, we can often find our way around them.

comedy, dreams, gratitude, television

Step 26: We Could Learn a Lot from Conan

Christa Avampato

Goodbyes say a lot about someone. Does he walk away bitter and angry? Does she simply just shrug off the disappointment that comes with every experience, recognizing that all our experiences are opportunities for great learning? Does he leave grateful for what was, and hopeful for what will be?

This last sentiment describes the very eloquent goodbye given by Conan O’Brien last Friday as he bid adieu to The Tonight Show, his dream job that he wanted for most of his life. For 7 months he got to do this job, and in a series of unfortunate events, he lost the show to Jay Leno. I won’t repeat all of the bumblings and fumblings of this incident – you know them from the massive amount of press coverage it received.

Similar to every late night talk show host, Conan could say anything he wanted to on air, and certainly could say farewell to NBC, his professional home for over 20 years, and to The Tonight Show viewers in any fashion he saw fit. No one, and I mean not a single person other than NBC executives, would have blamed him if he really let NBC have it. He didn’t. Instead, he thanked them.

Some people have commented that Conan whimped out, that he was forced to say something nice. Not possible. Watch the final goodbye. It was heartfelt and sincere and gracious. He feels extraordinarily lucky that he got to have his dream job for 7 months. So many people never get to have their dream job at all. And the part that really got to me was his adamant dislike for cynicism. “I hate cynicism — it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere.Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. It’s just true.” Conan is living proof that this formula works.

I never watched Conan’s shows. His brand of humor just wasn’t for me. However, after viewing his final sign off from The Tonight Show, I’m going to tune in to his next program, wherever he lands. His fond farewell speech may have just brought him a whole new audience. Grace always works in our favor.

books, childhood, Christmas, dreams, gratitude, Randy Pausch, writer, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Thanks for Making My Childhood Dream Come True

Christa Avampato

Last year I wrote a few posts about Randy Pausch’s Last Lecture. I first watched him give the Last Lecture on YouTube through tear-filled eyes and had to take myself for a long walk 3 months later when I read about his passing. His Last Lecture, devoted entirely to his pursuit of childhood dreams, reminded me of how important our earliest dreams are and how they shape us in adulthood. Randy Pausch reconfirmed my belief that childhood dreams, those daring, bold expressions of our deepest desire before we ever realize we have limitations, are some of the most valuable things we own. We should celebrate them and go for them with gusto, no matter what our age is.

This morning, I watched Lorelei, my two year old niece, open her gifts with wild abandon. She threw her head back and laughed with each one, regardless of how big or small it was. She liked the wrapping paper and boxes as much as the gifts inside. Watching her, I wondered how she would remember our Christmases together when she gets older. I want to do everything possible to make her childhood a blissfully happy period of her life, a time when great dreams were formed inside her beautiful heart.

Children change us, whether those children are our own, in our family, part of our friends’ families, or children we work with in our communities. We rediscover a sense of wonder and magic through their eyes, and Christmas magnifies that wonder. They use that same wonder about the world to formulate the ideas that will become their childhood dreams, and if we spend enough time with them we’ll find that they can help us formulate new dreams, too, while also reminding us of everything we dreamed of as children.

When I made up my list of childhood dreams, one of the big things I wanted to do was to be a published author. I thought that meant convincing a publisher that I was good enough for print. I never imagined there would be free (on-line) tools that would make this dream possible to achieve regardless of whether or not any publisher believed in me. I did spend a good amount of time worrying that no one would ever read what I wrote. In the past two and a half years writing this blog, I realized this incredible childhood dream with your help and support, and I wish I knew how to thank you all enough.

This Christmas, I am deeply grateful to all of you who have come to this blog to read about my journey. Your comments, emails, text messages, conversations, and face-to-face opinions and advice mean more to me than I could ever adequately explain. You made one of the great dreams of my life come true – you made me a writer. I hope you’ll stick with me, and that my writing will continue to be helpful to you. I hope we’ll be able to build some more dreams together. Wishing you a very Merry Christmas, this year and always.
The image above is not my own. It can be found here.
gratitude, happiness, New York City, weather

My Year of Hopefulness – The Whisper of Snow

Christa Avampato

And the snow fell and fell and fell. Some people will hunker down during a snow storm, watch a movie, play a board game, read. And some of us will run out into that snow and feel proud that they didn’t let the weather get them down. The people in this latter group are insane, and I’m one of them. I made my way down to 36th Street for dinner with my friend, Monika, last night and then got across town in record time (underground) to my friend, Cindy’s, holiday party.

Cindy’s parties are always an interesting mix of guests, and I am guaranteed to meet someone (or 2 or 3 someones) new every time. With the company of Anderson Cooper’s lead cameraman to a talented animator to one of the head stylists at Bumble & Bumble, there is never a shortage of cool stories, laughter, and delicious cocktails and food. I like to bring someone along every time to further liven up the mix. This time I brought my good pal, Jeff, who is always very outgoing and loves meeting new people as much as I do. After a good number of hours of merriment, I decided to head back out into the snow and get home.

I stepped outside into a world of sparkly white. The snow was breath-taking. Maybe the first snow fall always has a magical quality to it, though last night’s snow seemed to be something special. I never saw it glisten that way (and no, it wasn’t the candy cane eggnog I had at Cindy’s!) It felt like I was in a movie, as if a painter had taken a brush to my life and made everything around me glow.

So how would I get home in this foot of snow? At that time of night the subway is slow and I would have needed 2 transfers to get home anyway (getting across town in New York is rarely easy!) Cabs were getting stuck and spinning out everywhere I looked. Buses were no where to be found. My mom said to me that when she lived in New York, her best mode of transportation was a good pair of shoes. I had two inches heeled boots, and still I thought of her quote and didn’t think twice about making the hike on-foot. On a nice day, it would be a good, relaxing walk. In the snow at night, it would require a little more willpower and caution. I was up for it.

I skipped over and through the snowbanks, wound my way along the 79th Street passage through Central Park, and the whole time thought about how beautiful this city is. It was so quiet that I could actually hear the snow falling. The sky had a pink tint to it. The cold wind had died down. I felt a huge wave of gladness.

It was my next to last night in New York for 2009 since I’ll be leaving for the holidays in Florida on Monday. This snowstorm was a little gift for me, and I could swear I heard the world whispering, “Yes, you made it. You can file away 2009 as a year of experiences that opened your life to new possibilities, a year when so much fell away so that you could find new ways forward. This year, in a time of great loss, you received the opportunity to re-imagine and re-craft every area of your life. Put this chance to good use.”

When the subways are crowded, the streets are jammed, and the noise reaches levels you never thought were possible, New York can frustrate even those of us who love it most. It’s times like last night, in that beautiful, mystical snowfall, that remind of how much of a home this city is for me, how much of a home it will always be for me. There is a certain crackle of life that lives here, and I feel blessed to live among it.

The image above is not my own. It was taken by Seth Wenig/AP.

community, dreams, faith, grateful, gratitude, learning, love

My Year of Hopefulness – Ancient Wisdom

Christa Avampato

“The interdependency of Humankind, the relevance of relationship, the sacredness of creation is ancient, ancient wisdom.” ~ Rebecca Adamson

On the 17th floor of my apartment building, I feel a little closer to what’s miraculous and sacred in our world. In the past few weeks I have felt some energy driving me toward something new; I’ve felt my life taking on a different kind of meaning. Last night as I was getting my apartment ready for the movers to arrive, I had my music on, washing my new kitchen supplies and watching the sun sink down behind those lovely water towers. In one moment I felt intensely overcome with gratitude, as if my heart had opened up in a way that it never has before. There seemed to be so many opportunities laid out before me and all I had to do was select one, like taking a book from a shelf.

I began to tick through my personal relationships and all of the strength and hope and inspiration that I find in each of them. I started to recall kindnesses and favors and support that I’ve been offered, not just in the past few weeks but as far back as I can remember. I wanted to give the whole world a great big hug, followed by a great big thank you, for everything.

I wonder if this feeling, this sense of belonging has been available to me along and I just didn’t see it or didn’t know how to tap into it. I’m intrigued by the difference between looking and seeing, by how often we run around desperately seeking that which inevitably ends up being right in front of us. What if we just stopped, for a brief moment, and saw with a new kind of clarity the many blessings we have, recognized are tremendous capacity for change, for goodness, for creation.

We can construct a richer, happier, more meaningful existence, for ourselves and others, by tapping into the wisdom that is all around us, by recognizing that we are all always in this together. All of a sudden when we realize we aren’t alone, when we recognize that there are ancient, fundamental learnings that connect us across generations, across the globe, across time continuums, our feelings of loneliness and isolation are replaced by community and love. The impossible becomes not only possible, but imminent.

death, dying, gratitude, happiness, peace, religion

My Year of Hopefulness – Trinity Churchyard

Christa Avampato

A happy side effect of losing close family members at a young age is that I never feel uncomfortable with the concept of death. I often talk to my relatives who have crossed-over. I think about them all of the time; I find reminders of them everywhere; I feel their presence in my daily life. On and off in my life I’ve done volunteer work in nursing homes, with hospice, and in critical care facilities in hospitals. It’s something I’m considering doing again – there’s so much to be learned about life from the dying.

Because of my comfort with death and dying, I find comfort in places like cemeteries. They’re such peaceful places. On my lunch break yesterday, I went to do an errand and went past Trinity Churchyard, this tiny plot of land that sits at the corner of Wall Street and Broadway. It’s a small green haven among the concrete and constant construction in the area. It is the final resting place for a number of famous New Yorkers, Alexander Hamilton being the most iconic figure there. I couldn’t resist stepping inside for a moment. Once I crossed through the gate, the noise of the city seemed to dissipate. I don’t know how that happened. The sunshine seemed a little brighter, the air felt a little sweeter. It actually felt homey.
Much to my relief, many other people were seated on the benches that are dotted along the cemetery paths. People enjoying their lunch, talking with friends, sitting quietly, thinking. It was a sweet thing to see the living and the dead co-exist in such an easy harmony. It’s exactly what a final resting place should be.
I felt drawn to take a look into Trinity Church as well. I felt like I was peeking into someone’s home. It’s a fairly small church when compared to the likes of St. Pat’s or St. John the Divine, but it feels warmer, like a place where you could take your problems and worries and ask for help. In the main hall, I felt like I was so close to something holy, a kind and empathic ear.
In the back of the church there is a small chapel meant for quiet contemplation and prayer. There was a man at the front weeping, softly. He must be going through a very hard time. I lit one of the candles just outside the chapel and took a seat in the back. I thanked God for helping me through these last few weeks, offered up my immense gratitude for my wonderful friends and family who have been so supportive and helpful.
Just before I left, I found myself saying a little prayer for the man at the front of the chapel. I don’t know him, will probably never know him. I don’t know what he’s going through but it must be something very difficult. I prayed that the same strength I’ve found in the past few weeks will touch him as well, that somehow the strength and positive outlook that’s been such a gift to me will find its way to him also. With all of the abundant blessings in my own life, I felt that it was the least I could do.
good fortune, gratitude, thankful, work, yoga

My Year of Hopefulness – Everything You Need is in Your Hands

Christa Avampato

This morning on the subway I was reading the most recent issue of Yoga Journal. Every month they feature a short daily meditation article about a mantra, and this month its about empowerment.

Sanskrit:
“Karagre vasate Lakshmi
Kara-madhye Saraswati
Kara-mule sthita Gauri
Prabhate kara-darshanam”
English:
“On the tip of my fingers is prosperity and abundance (goddess Lakshmi);
In the middle of my hand is eloquence and learning (goddess Saraswati);
At the base of my hand is divine power (goddess Gauri or Parvati).
In the morning, a vision of energy in my hands.”

I’m always looking at people’s hands – they tell you a lot about their lives. What they do for a living, how well they take care of themselves, how they spend their time. They show us the kind of life someone has led.

For the past week, I’ve felt overwhelmed with gratitude and thankfulness. I’ve felt fortunate beyond measure, as if everything I ever wanted for my life is within easy reach. The appearance of this prayer, this call to action, said everything I have been feeling in 10 Sanskrit words.

We spend so much time looking out, looking for signs that we’re on the right track, going in the right direction. Really all we need to do is look as far as our own two hands and realize that there is enough power and grace within us to make the possible certain.

adventure, change, grateful, gratitude, happiness, New York City, travel

My Year of Hopefulness – A Real New Yorker

Christa Avampato

Yesterday I was running errands after work, collecting a few more odds and ends to organize my apartment. I had forgotten that when you go from a place with storage to a place with hardly any storage, you actually have to buy things to put your things in. 2 hours later at the Container Store…

It was hot and sticky and raining on and off. My bags were heavy and I was worn out from a long, tiring week. I was trudging along, past The Plaza, past Central Park South, toward the Time Warner Building, lost in my own personal fog. At the corner, I was waiting for the light to change so I could get down underground to the unbearably hot subway that would get me home with all my things to put my things in. I’m sure my face was a little crinkled. I’m positive I was sighing out loud.

Two guys, clearly visiting NYC, were in a Scooby-Doo style van, hanging out the windows and snapping pictures like mad. I must remember to start carrying my camera everywhere to capture moments like that. These guys were grinning from ear to ear, in awe of what they were seeing, what they were right in the middle of. They made me smile, too. One of them saw me, and asked “are you a real New Yorker?” and then snapped my picture, as if I was a rare species that they needed to capture on film to show their friends back home.

“I am a real New Yorker,” I replied. “Cool,” he said. And that made me smile even wider. Here I was sighing about how tired and worn out I was, and here are these guys, invigorated by the exact same environment.

I didn’t cross the street just yet. I sat down in one of the cafe chairs that sit at the corner of Central Park South and Columbus Circle. I took a big, deep breathe and looked around me. How lucky am I to be a New Yorker, to live in this insane, magical, always evolving place every day? I put down my load o’ bags to rest a while, to take in the glory and chaos and be grateful for the opportunity to be here in this moment.

I wish I had asked for the contact info of those Scooby-Doo van guys. I’d like to thank them for helping me fall in love with my city, again. When I picked up my bags to head home, somehow they felt lighter.

The photo above depicts Columbus Circle, New York City and can be found here.

change, friendship, good fortune, grateful, gratitude, home, moving

My Year of Hopefulness – New Home, Sweet Home

Christa Avampato

Moving day! Once again, I had a stellar experience with Flat Rate Moving and got some much needed, much appreciated help with my own bags from the past weeks. When arriving at the apartment this morning to see the new renovations, I had the impulse to skip from one end to the other. I actually hugged the new kitchen countertop. This apartment is such a huge improvement over my last place that I can hardly believe it’s mine!

While packing and unpacking are tough chores, I do relish the feeling of a fresh start, a new beginning filled with possibilities. My home isn’t just where I get some sleep and store my belongings. I do most of writing here. I practice my yoga which in akin to a religion for me. It’s a place where I laugh and cry and dream with my friends, where I have multiple out-of-town guests. The rest of my life springs from these walls, and with new walls, in some sense, I get a new life.
Once the movers collected my last signature and quietly closed the door on their way out, I did do a run through the maze of brown boxes that now lined my new place, and at the end made sure to do a little dance of gratitude: to my friends, Rob and Linda, who took me in for two weeks when I really needed a place to stay, for the movers who took such good care of my belongings from beginning to end, to the wonders of Craig’s list that made finding this apartment possible. I was so happy that I wanted to give the world one great big hug, and I wanted to make sure that I took a moment to remind myself how good this world and our experience in it can be.
Now I’m collapsing into bed with a wide smile. My feet haven’t been this tired in years and my legs aren’t used to the three flights of stairs just yet. And yet none of that matters. I’m home again.
death, dying, experience, family, friendship, grateful, gratitude, human factors, loss, sadness

My Year of Hopefulness – Trade-offs

Christa Avampato

Be glad of life because it gives you the chance to love and to work and to play and to look up at the stars. –Henry Van Dyke

A friend of mine recently lost his father and as we talked about loss, we delved into the topic of trade-offs. It’s part of life to enjoy good, happy times for a while. And yet somewhere in the back of our minds, we are conscious of the fact that these moments are fleeting. Part of experiencing life, and love, and a connection to others also requires us to have the ability to let go. It’s an odd and scary thing if we think about it too long, so it usually comes to us as a passing thought, and then we send it away.

I used to have a very hard time dealing with the loss of someone. It seemed so unfair to me to have someone we love taken away. Was it really worth it to feel a connection to people? Did it make sense to spend so much of our very brief time on this planet cultivating relationships with others that eventually fall away, for one reason or another.

Many years ago, a friend of mine was dealing with the loss of his grandfather. Knowing how much he loved his grandfather and how close he was to him, I expressed my extreme sympathy for his loss. And without a tear in his eye or a choked up feeling in his throat, he said, “Please don’t be sorry. I’m not.” I just couldn’t understand. How on Earth could he not be sorry?

“I had this amazing person in my life for so many years. I was so lucky to know that kind of love and closeness to someone for so long. He taught me an amazing amount throughout my whole life that I’m able to pass on to others. He was such a gift and I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to have him in my life.”

I think about this conversation every time I or someone I care about must deal with losing someone. It’s so hard to imagine letting go, and I find that emphasizing the gift of their presence in our lives for however long we have them eases the sadness. It doesn’t eliminate the sadness and it doesn’t betray the person’s memory. It just helps us keep perspective, and we helps us to begin to understand that it is all worth. The cultivation of relationships is what this life we live is all about. They are the very essence of human experience.