“If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to collect wood, and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Over the last few days, I’ve been reflecting on how to rally a community around an idea that has not yet taken root in popular culture. I’ve been thinking about revolution, a revolution of consciousness.
It doesn’t get started with tactics, project plans, and the divvying up of roles and responsibilities. And it doesn’t get accomplished that way either. Each individual has to feel a personal sense responsibility for seeing that vision through to fruition. They have to want it from the very depths of their souls for their own reasons.
I found this image on Pinterest. I immediately hung it up at my desk to read out loud any time I get scared as I begin this new adventure to merge my career with my personal values. It makes me feel strong. I hope it helps you, too.
Is it technically “leap” or “jump” – as in down the rabbit hole below Delancey Street?
You’ve got 37 more days to back an incredible public works project known as the LowLine that promises to bring a year-round underground park to New York’s Lower East Side. The project envisions a re-purposing of a long-abandoned trolley terminal into a wonderland of green space, a badly needed amenity in that part of town.
When I read the article in GOOD yesterday, the concept was brand new to my ears and I jumped up out of my chair from excitement. It’s quite possibly the most innovative use of public space I’ve ever seen. The idea alone is enough to make any and every New Yorker crack open their wallets to support the vision. Go to the site to see the proposed images and the deal is sealed. And that’s just the reaction that the founding team is hoping for!
Founder Dan Barasch and James Ramsey posted the project on Kickstarter (where it seems that all good project ideas are housed these days) they need our help to gain $100,000 in collective funding by April 6th to show local government that New Yorkers want to see this vision brought to life.
Join the effort for Delancey Underground and support it with as little as a buck. Let’s get this done!
I spent the weekend with my friends Ken, Tom, and Amber in Bucks County, PA, just outside of Philadelphia. Ken and Tom recently purchased a home there that put me so at ease I thought of asking to become their live-in housekeeper / dog walker / cook. Some day soon, I’m sure they’ll be appearing on the House Proud segment of the Nate Berkus Show. The house is that beautiful.
I loved my time there so much that on the way home I wondered if a small home in Bucks County might some day be my reality. I went to school in Philadelphia and have long thought that my life may loop back in that direction some day. Looking out of the window of the train, I day dreamed about a place to get away from it all, to write, and to teach yoga and meditation. I began to wonder again about a possible move.
And then I remembered a small piece of art that was in the room where I was sleeping at Ken and Tom’s house. It said simply, “Grow where you’re planted.” Though I may be daydreaming of Bucks County, I realize that there is still so much for me to learn right here in New York, in my tiny studio way up above the bustle of the streets. This leg of the journey is not yet over; there’s still so much to do exactly where I am.
My friend, Trevin, future editor of the New York Times Theater section, told me if I see one show this season, Richard III should be it. I couldn’t refuse. My friend, Rob, and I went to see Kevin Spacey in the title role at BAM last week. Neither of us had ever been to BAM and we’re huge fans of the play and of Mr. Spacey.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about passion, and what it means to live a life filled with activities that are close to our hearts. As my years tick on, I’m reminded that time is moving and that we are not going to be here forever. The phrase “If not now, then when?” is stuck on constant replay in my mind. Seeing Richard III was exactly the show I needed to see to drive this point home.
Mr. Spacey is brilliant, haunting, maniacal, funny, and exhausting as Richard III. Rob and I kept looking at each other wondering how on Earth he gets the energy to play that role day in and day out. Between the physical and emotional demands, and the energy required to effectively drive home the true essence of the character, he must literally fall into bed every night. He is laying his heart bare on that stage at every single performance and we can’t help but take that journey with him. He draws us in and does not let us go. It’s so clearly a labor of intense love for him.
That’s the kind of spent feeling we should all aspire to. What would our lives look like if every day we were so enthralled with our work that we could literally pour ourselves, everything we have, heart and soul, into the roles we choose to play? What if we could all find that role of Richard III in our own unique way, just as Mr. Spacey has found his? Imagine how passion could transform everything we set our minds to.
The Lantern Festival, Honolulu, Hawaii from...Pinterest
I found my way to Pinterest through a blog friend labyrinth.
My friend Phyllis started a new blog, The Carb Lover Lady. Phyllis and I are bloggy friends after I asked to interview her back in 2009 for my Examiner column on entrepreneurship. Phyllis recently featured a recipe for Greek Yogurt Banana Bread on her blog from Ingredients, Inc., the site of Alison Lewis, a health expert. (By the way, I’ve started practicing my baking again thanks to the encouragement of MJ, another bloggy friend and great supporter of my writing and life.)
Alison uses Pinterest to find a lot of the images on her site and they’re stunning. The one of the banana bread made my mouth water so I toddled on over to find where photo like this can be found online. And then I went down the rabbit hole. I was blown away by the beauty and breadth of the images.
Pinterest is a site of curated images by people like you and me. Their mission is to build a community of people who share images they love. As my friend Amanda (another friend I met through blogging) said, “Fun to take a break from text and live with images for a while.” My friend Kelly pins images of houses she dreams of living in. And that’s the real genius of the site: like life, it’s what you make of it.
Above all, Pinterest is a wonderful reminder of all the beauty that this world holds, all the inspiration that’s out there if only we search for it and share it. Hop on over and check out the images that are making me smile – click here.
“Comics say funny things and comedic actors say things funny.” ~ Ed Wynn via Carol Burnett, Happy Accidents
Over the winter holidays I started reading the wonderful book Happy Accidents, a memoir by comedic actress Jane Lynch. At turns the book is hilarious, heartwarming, and heartbreaking. Jane has the incredible ability to make people feel for her without making them feel sorry for her. I hope she’ll be writing many more books in the years to come. Carol Burnett, one of my creative heroes, wrote the forward for the book and in it she recounts a story the legendary Ed Wynn told her regarding his ideas about great comedy.
Jane Lynch is hilarious not because she tells jokes. She plays every one of her characters with a sincere sense of seriousness that makes her characters even more funny. It’s a rare and beautiful gift that she worked very hard to craft and hone. While Ed Wynn was talking about comedians and actors (and Carol Burnett extended this story as explanation of Jane’s abilities as a comedic actress), it got me thinking about how applicable this idea is to so many areas off the stage, especially to business. We have to make our own funny, meaning we need to make the very best of what we’ve got and shape into what we want it to be within the context of circumstances.
Jane Lynch isn’t handed a script full of jokes and one-liners. No one even tells her how or when to be funny. She’s given a script detailing a situation of her character, and then she runs with it. She doesn’t find the humor in the circumstances; she makes it.
Running a business is similar. We’re handed a set of market circumstances, not a business plan or even an idea of a business plan. We have to build the creative business idea and the plan that brings it to life that links to the market circumstances. We don’t happen upon a relevant and desired idea; we make it so.
I started my career working in professional theatre, and I was always surprised by the perceptions of those outside the industry who thought we were just playing. My theatre work was the very best business training I ever received (and yes, it did teach me more than my MBA.) Theatre is a lot more than actors, sets, costumes, lights, and a stage. It added up to be far greater than just the sum of its parts. It taught me how to craft not only a show, but a story, a life, and a legacy. It showed me that the very best road to take is the one we pave for ourselves.
My year of writing about new beginnings is winding down. A few more days and my new writing adventure for 2012 will take shape. I’ll reveal more details about this shortly. For the moment, I’m thinking about endings. The end of 2011. The end of spending too much time on things that aren’t adding to the world or fulfilling my own personal purpose. Beginnings are easy to spot; endings are a bit fuzzier.
I thought my apartment building fire was an ending. Instead, it was just the start of a more authentic life. It changed everything.
I thought my father passing away was an ending. Instead, it was just the start of a healing path that would weave through my life and then be used to weave through the lives of others.
I thought the end of this year would signal a steep drop off in my pursuit of beginnings. Instead, it is just the start of the very beginning that my entire life has been preparing for. It’s not okay yet but someday, a long time from now, it will be. And I will be a part of making it so.
Samuel L. Jackson and Angela Bassett in The Mountaintop
“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop.
And I don’t mind.
Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!” ~ Dr. Martin Luther King
My friend, Pam, insisted that I see The Mountaintop, a play that chronicles the fictional last night of Dr. Martin Luther King’s life, which he spends speaking with a maid at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee. Angela Bassett is stunning in her immersion into her character, exhibiting a wide-reaching array of emotions from one moment to the next. (She’ll be getting a Tony nod, no doubt.) Samuel L. Jackson played Samuel L. Jackson, and I really wanted him to play Martin Luther King. Surely, he is capable of it, right? Why was he directed to be so, well, normal? Where was Martin Luther King, the most inspiring speaker in recent history?
I mulled this over from the moment he stepped on stage. And then Aretha Franklin sat down next to me, a few minutes after the lights went down. She is the closest we have to royalty in the this country. And she is regal. Elegant. And reserved. When the lights came up after the bows, I stood up, smiled wide and wished her a good evening. She smiled wide and nodded. People all around us noticed her – there is no way to mistake her for anyone else – and she quickly sat back down. She is after all, just a woman watching a show that her friends are performing.
It struck me how ironic it would be that I would be watching the story of one legend while seated next to another. We expect a lot of public figures. We do expect them to be perfect at every turn, to inspire us, impress us, and all the while maintain constant composure. We hold them to impossible standards, standards we never meet, standards we never even attempt.
In The Mountaintop, Dr. King talks about how death doesn’t look or feel the way he thought it would. It wasn’t what he expected. And death responds, “You’re not what I expected, Preacher King.” And then I realized what Samuel L. Jackson was doing in addition to playing Samuel L. Jackson. He was showing us the fear and the humanity of a man who we have canonized when in truth he was just a man. A dedicated, passionate, empowered man, with flaws and doubts and inconsistencies.
Dr. King has inspired generations of people around the world, and he did what all of us can do and few of us actually do. He picked up the baton and ran with it, passing it off when his time had come. How many of us will have the courage to do the same?
Lady Gaga performing "Marry the Night" on A Very Gaga Thanksgiving
“What you can do, or dream you can do, begin it! / Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.” ~ Goethe
Late on Thanksgiving night everyone had gone home and my parents were fast asleep. Phineas was cuddled up next to me snoozing, and I was pecking away on my laptop to draft a freelance writing piece. When I write, I usually have music or the TV on in the background. I flipped through the channels and saw that A Very Gaga Thanksgiving, Lady Gaga’s Thanksgiving special, was on. “Perfect,” I thought. “I love her empowering music and I won’t get distracted by a complicated storyline.”
So much for that idea.
I found Lady Gaga’s story incredibly compelling – her sense of family, the incredibly personal and unique inspirations behind each of her songs, and how she views real wealth. And there was one message in her interview at the end of the show that really stuck with me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Her song “Marry the Night”, her favorite song on her new album Born This Way, is about the decision she made a few years ago to fully commit to her work. Lady Gaga decided she was “going to tear it up”, make her work her husband, and never look back. “Marry the Night” is the musical manifestation of that promise to her herself.
Inspiration will find us in the most surprising ways – a unintended conversation, an chance meeting, a Lady Gaga TV special. Eventually, we will find that we can’t fight our purpose forever. During my vacation last week, the signs of a new life taking shape were abundant and abundantly clear. There was no mistaking them.
I need to commit to the work of my life – my teaching through Compass Yoga and to my writing. On Thanksgiving night, a switch flipped. The fear of this leap didn’t disappear, but it somehow became inconsequential. It now feels like there is a greater force moving me forward, a gentle hand at my back, as if the night may have chosen to marry me and I must go along.
Christa Avampato 