Category: Life

change, feelings, Life, loss, memory

Beginning: Another Meaning on 9/11

Christa Avampato
This is an image of all the beautiful faces lost on 9/11/01

Today I will be glued to coverage of the 9/11 commemoration. My first memory of seeing the wreckage is still burned in my mind. I was in a Chicago apartment, surrounded by friends, and mourning for my home city. My current office building sits right across the street from the World Trade site. I pass it every single day that I go to the office. It is visible from nearly every conference room where I have daily meetings. I consciously think about that tragedy and its wake all the time.

2 years ago, 9/11 etched another mark into my history of my time in New York. After my apartment building fire, in which I lost so many of my physical belongings and gained a level of insight into the magic of life beyond anything I thought possible, I moved into the tiny studio where Phin and I still live. I slept on a borrowed air mattress and had a tiny plastic bag of clothes. It was a sinking, lonely feeling. “Is this what life tangibly amounted to?” I wondered.

In the coming months and years, I would embark on a personal journey with twists and turns, peaks and valleys, tears and smiles. I would question everything and everyone that filled my life up to that point. I would break down in terrifying ways, physically and mentally, and then build myself up again sometimes for show and sometimes through true, authentic growth, though it was hard to tell the difference. I would have to tear down my conception of myself and the world before the fire so that I could rebuild my spirit post-fire from the inside out. It was gut-wrenching, beautiful work. And yes, those two descriptors can be felt in a single action. Eventually it became a good kind of hurt, the way a physical wound heals, the way my muscles rebuilt themselves after I ran the Chicago marathon in October 2001, almost a month to the day after the horrific events of 9/11/01.

Rebuilding over a space that is mentally, emotionally, or physically ripped apart is part of life. No matter how terrifying the act that caused the destruction, no matter the breadth and depth of the loss created, time goes on, and life right along with it. Anniversaries give us a way to honor our strength and bravery in that moment of loss, and also in the rebuilding it necessitates. We mourn and grieve, and then keep going. And there is no shame or embarrassment in that act of moving forward. It is required; who and what was lost would also want it that way.

Today on 9/11/11, I’ll be on my couch with Phineas. I’ll be reflecting and writing, listening and watching, as this day, 10 years later unfolds in a very different way than it did for our nation and the world a decade ago. My only goal is to bear witness, and feel whatever feelings arise, to be aware and awake, and feel grateful for the opportunity to do so.

choices, decision-making, fear, Life

Beginning: Somewhere Between Fear and Boredom

Christa Avampato

On Friday I was having a conversation with someone about his varied career practicing law. Though he’s been a lawyer for several decades, his bath is rather unorthodox as he’d practiced in a number of different specialties and now serves as the vice chairman of a large firm. As someone who has had a varied career, I’m always interested in hearing what makes people change course and what has served as their catalyst for change. This lawyer had a very simple answer:

“I chart my career. On the vertical access I’ve got fear and on the horizontal access I’ve got boredom. Every time I started in a new field I’d be all the way in the top left – high fear, no boredom. Over time, I move down the curve of fear and closer to boredom. Once those two cross, I know it’s time to do something else.”

That way of thinking resonates with me, too. I actually enjoy biting off more than I can chew; I get a rush from the doubt of wondering if I can really do what I’ve set out to do. It gives me drive and stokes my determination. It took a long time to get there.

When I worked in company management on Broadway shows and national tours, I had the great privilege of working with Petula Clark on Sunset Boulevard. I always got her meal so she could eat in her dressing room between the two shows on Saturday and Sunday. Sometimes she’d feel chatty so I’d stay and keep her company during dinner. She once asked me if I ever acted. I’d done some college productions and some work in summer stock, though never wanted to pursue the field professionally.

“Why not?” she asked me.

“I have terrible stage fright. I throw up every time before I go on stage,” I said, more than a little embarrassed.

“We’re all a little stage fright, dear,” she said. “The good ones never lose that fear. Keeps us on our toes.”

I liked that idea. I still didn’t want to be an actress and I wasn’t quite sure I believed Petula. She was famously supportive and kind, particularly to young people in the company. I thought she was just saying that to make me feel better. Years later I realized she was absolutely serious. I learned to use my stage fright productively – to help me stay prepared and on point at every turn.

If Petula Clark and this attorney had a conversation about career, I have a feeling they’d see eye-to-eye. The fear we have in starting a new adventure is really quite a gift. It gives us the chance to really feel alive, to feel like we’re taking on something so much bigger than ourselves. We’re going out along our edge to see just how far we can reach. It’s always thrilling to find that the ground out there at the edge is so much more stable that we imagine it to be, and not by happenstance, but because our determination and hard work makes it so.

dogs, Life, time, to-do lists, work, writing, yoga

Beginning: How I Find the Time

Christa Avampato

“You have to live your life spherically, in many directions.” ~ Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun

A lot of people ask me how I can live such a varied life with so many interests that don’t necessarily fit together in a logical way. I like being a Renaissance woman; I love figuring just how all the pieces come together, even if on the surface they seem to have nothing to do with each other. I am a firm believer in connections and relationships.

I’ve struggled a bit to come up with a good answer for people who truly want to know how I fit it all in, how all these subjects and activities can live side-by-side in my brain. Part of it is my training – I’ve been on a vertical learning curve all my life, so much so that it’s where I’m most comfortable and engaged. I like having a challenge nip at me until I crack the code. For me, that’s play.

But people don’t like that answer. It’s not enough of a silver bullet. And then it dawned on me (in the lady’s room, if you must know!): most people don’t give a hoot how I fit it all in and maintain so many simultaneous interests. They want to know how THEY can do that. They want “the how” that they can replicate. Now I’ve got a bit of a better answer to their question.

Generally, this is how time works in my brain:
In the morning, I am in list mode. I jot down everything I need to do for the day, in no particular order. I add to it throughout the day, though most of my to-do’s strike right when I wake up.

Some time between 5:30am and 6:30am I head out for a walk with my pup, Phineas. You might think this is a time suck because I walk him for a full hour and I don’t multi-task when I walk him. Trust me, I need it as much as he does. It clears my head to walk Phin and I find that the whole rest of my day is much more productive after I get some exercise with him. I often return with a mental list full of writing ideas and people I need to contact later on.

After my favorite meal, breakfast (another time when I don’t multi-task – I just focus on chewing), I plow through as much individual work (at home or at the office) as I can before noon because I’m a morning person and a late night person. I’m not so much of an afternoon person. (I blame my European roots for this!) If I’m commuting to work, I use the subway ride to flip through emails and read the top news stories, again making notes in my to-do list as they arise from my reading.

Then lunch rolls around and I usually read through lunch. Again, I check the news, get through some of my to-do list, and invariably add more to my to-do list. (I’ve noticed recently that I have a tendency to mindless gulp my lunch – I need to focus a bit more on my chewing this meal.)

Afternoons are for listening and gathering information. I try to have all of my meetings and phone calls in the afternoon. I’m sure there’s a brain study here, just waiting to happen. (Now adding this research to my to-do list!)

Most of the time I have plans after work, whether I’m teaching a class, taking a class, or seeing friends. That’s down time for me and recharges me for the evening. If I don’t have plans, then I take the time for myself at home.

When I arrive home, I play with Phin for a bit and read the note from his dog walker to see how he did in the afternoon. Sometimes we take a little jaunt around the block, depending upon how we’re both feeling.

I do some yoga and an 18-minute meditation every night. No matter what. I set get out my mat and bolster, set my timer, and get it done. No compromises.

Then I write, usually with Phineas sitting next to me. The writing part of my brain kicks in when the sun goes down. I’m not sure why – perhaps because the distractions of the day have fallen away by then. I feel like way up on the 17th floor, I can be alone with my thoughts when it’s dark outside. All the listening and gathering I’ve done throughout the day has had time to gel.

Yoga, meditation, and all of the personal work I’ve done over the last two years have paid off by banishing my lifetime of insomnia. Occasionally I toss and turn, though most of the time sleep finds me pretty easily. I take Phin out for a last quick minute (literally) and then I try to shut off the lights just after I catch the top stories of the 11pm news.

That’s an average work day for me. So far, it’s working though I’m always open to changing it up as needed. How does your day map out? How do you get it all done?

death, dying, Life

Beginning: Beauty and Funerals

Christa Avampato

“Beauty once seemed to me to be an accident of nature. But now that I can see my life on my face, I realize we earn the way we end up looking. Time, it seems, gives us all a chance to really be beautiful.” ~ Ann Curry

“Nature gives you the face you have at twenty. Life shapes the face you have at thirty. But at fifty you get the face you deserve.” ~ Coco Chanel

My Uncle John passed away last week. A kind, generous man, we was one of the people who figured prominently into many of my childhood memories. He was one of those people whom I always felt so lucky to know and love. He lived into his 90’s despite an abundance of health problems for many years. He was a miracle man, a real-life version of the comeback kid.

His funeral served as yet another reminder to me that everything that surrounds us is temporary, that this is all changeable. It reminded me of what Brian and I talked about last week – that a life just spent out on the ledge isn’t really living at all. You need to have the existence you want, and no one can define that for you except you. People will try – they will tell you where and when to go, who to go with, and what you should do when you get there. During Uncle John’s services I couldn’t help but think about the idea that in the end our legacies are about the choices we make, and the ripple effects we cause in the wake of those choices.

There was a poster board of photos at John’s wake. Some of them I’d never seen and some of them I hadn’t seen in many years. I was a tiny baby in the ones I was in. My grandparents were there, as was my dad, looking many years younger than I remember them and with wide, wide smiles. I loved seeing those images and yet it was hard for me to see them, too. Particularly with my dad, I was reminded of all the lost potential, the lost opportunity that he could have had, that my whole family could have had, and in particular that I could have had if only he had gotten the right help at the right time.

I think losing people like my Uncle John is easier than losing people like my dad. John lived a full, loving life. He was grateful for his days and was able to overcome extraordinary hardships. (I found out at his funeral that he had served in the U.S. Army’s First Armored Division during World War II, the first Americans in WWII to go into armed battle.) My dad, by nature, was not grateful and there wasn’t anyone in his life who asked him to be more accountable and responsible for the life we lived. In his eyes, life happened to him. In my Uncle John’s eyes, life happened and no matter what, he chose to love life again and again. My Uncle John took full advantage of all opportunities at his doorstep, and lived a wonderful, long life as a result. My dad did not.

So we have a choice – not necessarily of when it’s our time to move on from this lifetime, but certainly how we spend each of our days in this lifetime. We can choose what we stand for, how we spend our time, and with whom. We either choose to make and take opportunities, or just react to life as it happens. Given the very stark contrast of the lives and passings of my Uncle John and my dad, I know which way I’m going. Do you?

death, health, Life

Beginning: My First Mammogram

Christa Avampato

My mother is a breast cancer survivor. Even prior to her diagnosis and healing, I was constantly on my soapbox about how mammograms should be provided to young women. Because of my strong family history, my insurance covers regular mammograms starting at 35. Recently I got a prescription from my doctor and off I went to Lenox Hill Hospital.

Upon scheduling the exam, I had a feeling of real gravity. I knew I was okay; I just felt the weight of this kind of test. After all, it is an exam that is checking for cancer, a potentially lethal disease, and to go through with one we must look squarely in the face of our own mortality. What I felt was most certainly the feeling of “dis-ease” brought on by looking for a “disease”. The synchronicity of these words is no accident. Disease, and the potential of it, is uncomfortable to say the least.

So in I went to the hospital. They had to take several rounds of scans because the doctor felt that the first set had something out of the ordinary. Due to my strong family history, they take no chances. When the doctor came back into the examination room a second time to ask me to take an immediate ultrasound, the gravity of the tests grew a bit heavier on my shoulders. My only thought was perhaps my mind-body connection is not as a strong as I think it is.

I went into the ultrasound room, and the exam took a solid 20 minutes. As I was lying there, I thought about what I might do if indeed the abnormality was something of concern. What would I do if I was asked to have a biopsy? How would I deal with a diagnosis of cancer at age 35? Sadly, it has become more common in my generation than in those generations who have come before us. My mind was blank. I had no idea what I do, and so I waited and breathed.

The doctor read the ultrasound with a sigh of relief. He saw that the abnormality was not cause for alarm. He said he would review with his attending and then send the report to my gynecologist. He also noted that mammograms among young women are very difficult to read because the younger we are, the more dense our tissue is. Reading abnormalities in dense tissue can be deceiving and this is made still more difficult by my petite and mostly lean body type. What was supposed to be a 20 minute baseline exam turned into a 2 and a half hour event in which I felt fine, then felt worried, and then felt fine again.

I walked out of the hospital and took in a full breath in the sunlit air. I exhaled with a big sigh, though the lesson was not lost on me. My mortality is a very real thing, and I must live accordingly. Most people spend a lot of years, particularly their early ones, not looking at or thinking about death. Because of the deaths in my family at a young age, I have never had that luxury. The moment I could contemplate life, I began to contemplate death in equal measure. After all, we cannot have one without the other.

change, learning, Life, relationships, values

Step 248: 8 Lessons From My Apartment Building Fire, One Year Later

Christa Avampato

Today marks the 1 year anniversary of my apartment building fire. In some ways, I cannot believe it’s gone by so quickly and in other ways I can’t believe how much change has happened in a year. So net-net, it feels like it has been a productive year with a lot of learning. Sometimes I still shiver at the thought of the circumstances and what could have happened if everything had gone horribly wrong, if I hadn’t followed my instincts. I wrote a series of posts on this blog that recount the difficult days after the fire. They begin with my post on September 5, 2009.

The building has reopened and the walls have been painted over a pristine white. You’d never know that one year ago a fire ripped through the hallways, but every time I walk by it, I still feel the gravity of what happened there one year ago. To commemorate and celebrate the occasion, here are the top 10 things I learned as a result of my fire:

1.) I now trust my gut 99% of the time. Trusting my gut on September 5, 2009 saved my life. I had every reason to discount the feeling of dread that I felt in my kitchen when I heard my heat pipes ticking. Something told me to look a little closer, and that’s when I saw the tiles on the floor heaving. I quickly got to my stairs, without over-thinking what was happening, and despite the thick black smoke, I kept running for my life. Had I delayed even a few minutes or second-guessed my gut, the consequences would have been dire.

2.) It’s okay to ask for help. In the days after my fire, I really tried to pretend that everything was fine, that I was fine, that I was strong and invincible. The truth is that I’m strong, and human. I needed help to sort out the trauma that followed my fire and started to see Brian, my life coach. We started on a journey of self-discovery together and it is one of the most rewarding relationships of my life.

3.) Someone who wants me to move through a traumatic situation at lightning speed for his own sake is not worth having in my life. At the time of my fire, I was dating a guy whom I had really fallen for. He was a prince the day of the fire, though as soon as he saw that this wasn’t just a little blip on the radar screen of my life, he showed the less appealing side of his character. Things quickly unraveled and while we tried to maintain some kind of relationship right after our romance ended, I quickly walked away and have never looked back. That departure started a year-long effort to only have people in my life who believe that love and friendship are a two-way street.

4.) There really is no time like the present. I was sort of floating through life a year ago. I had a job that was okay, but that I honestly felt no passion for. I had been thinking of moving to a more mission-based organization, and now one year later I’m fully on that path. Destination unknown, but I know I’m moving in the right direction now by taking steps toward moving my career toward public education.

5.) Empathy is a must in all of my relationships. At the time of my fire, I worked for a woman who can only be described as wretched. She was not the least bit sympathetic toward my situation, and actually gave me a hard time about taking one day off to work with my insurance company and loaded up my plate with additional work. That moment was a definite breaking point for me, and I decided from then on that I would never work with that type of person again. Empathy is now a non-negotiable in every area of my life. (I got out of the situation with that former boss several months later, and found my way to a better internal position at my company.)

6.) True friends can celebrate with you and cry with you. I’ve had people in my life who are fair weather friends and friends who only show up when the chips are down. Real friends are the ones who show up in both kinds of situations, and everything in between. I’m blessed to have so many people in my life who fit that description.

7.) Your stuff really is just stuff. I lost almost all of my material belongings in the fire. A few things survived, but I essentially had to rebuild my material life. I had gotten to a point where I really valued my material possessions. Now, it’s just not that important to me. I only replaced the essentials – I just didn’t want “things” anymore, and I still don’t. I down-sized in a big way and feel lighter. Even if everything went up in smoke again, so long as my health and the safety of others were preserved, I really would be okay. I am not what I own. (However, PLEASE go get renter’s insurance. The peace of my mind that my Liberty Mutual policy brought me was immense. I had enough emotional fall-out to deal with from the fire itself, so not having to deal with a major financial crisis on top of it was worth every penny of my $200 annual policy.)

8.) This too shall pass. And by “this”, I mean everything. Everything always changes, the good, the bad, and the indifferent. My yoga practice has helped me accept and embrace this fact that my fire so brilliantly illuminated. And it led me to pursue my yoga teacher certification and the founding of Compass Yoga to share these insights.

Not a bad year of learning. And despite the unfortunate circumstances, my fire is the gift that keeps on giving. The lessons I learned as a result have brought tremendous peace and gratitude to my life. It couldn’t have been more unexpected, and looking back I can’t say I’d wish it hadn’t happened. It woke me up, which is exactly what I needed.

The image above is a picture of one of the hallways in my apartment building after the fire.

creativity, determination, frustration, learning, Life, loss, luck, mistakes, presentation, producer, television, trend

Step 199: Why I Hate Reality TV Shows With Elimination Rounds

Christa Avampato

I have a hard time watching reality TV, especially when elimination rounds are involved. I get nervous for the contestants as if I’m on the show myself. I never knew why until my brother-in-law recently shared his view on these shows: “You don’t get judged on the body of your work; one mistake and you’re gone.” This is a horrible lesson to reinforce in our society.

Real success comes from trying a lot of different ideas, taking risks, and learning from failures as well as achievements. To support the idea that one false move means you’re down for the count is just plain dumb. Real life isn’t like that, making the idea of this kind of “reality” TV anything but.

My brother-in-law had an idea: why don’t we let all of the contestants stay until the end and have the judging be on the full season of work, not just one dish, one task, or one song? Have the weekly winners actually win something extra. Let people learn from their weekly mistakes, and actually see what they do with what they learn. That would be a reality TV show worth watching.

Life

Step 18: Bookshelves and the Downside of Gratitude

Christa Avampato

A set of bookshelves was the last piece of furniture I needed to replace. I bought a perfect set of them about a year ago and lost them in the fire in September. I took myself to Crate and Barrel this afternoon and bought the exact same set I had in a darker stain to match my new bed. To make room for this new set, I needed to clean out a corner that’s been filled with boxes for 4 months. About half way through the cleaning, I started to cry. I was reminded of the last time I cleaned and made room for bookshelves, which then caused me to think about how they looked just after the fire. Covered in a film of dark gray soot, holding books that could never be cleaned and electronics that couldn’t be salvaged.

The delivery of these bookshelves is another reminder of starting over, and starting over begins by losing something we care about. I still haven’t been able to hang up any pictures; I’ve tried but when I do I start to tear up and put them down. Everything still seems so impermanent to me, and I still have some anxiety about wasting even a moment of time, which then leads me to question how I’m spending my time at all, causing me undue stress and worry.

I am immensely grateful that I made it out of the fire unscathed. I feel lucky to have insurance that took care of me financially. My friend, Cindy, gave me the legal know-how to negotiate with my former landlord. In a practical sense, the fire was a blip on the radar screen of my life. In reality, it changed everything. It changed me. The double-edged sword of getting another chance is that I can’t stop considering and re-considering and re-considering again what would be the best use of my time. It’s enough to drive anyone mad.

So what can I do? How do I keep from going mad? I just keep going. This afternoon I sat for a minute in my own tears after clearing space for these new bookshelves. And then I just grabbed a tissue, grabbed my Swiffer, and pushed it around the floor to pick up the dust and lint where my boxes have been piled up for 4 months. In the middle of the dust I found a tiny pink metal object. It was my niece, Lorelei’s, hairclip. She must have dropped it when she was here visiting in October. I smiled as I spun it in my fingers.

That hairclip reminded me that no matter what I do with the remainder of my life, the best part is that I get to be with my family and my friends. I get to keep writing and working with my community. I get to evolve and grow and try new things that I never would have had a chance to try had I not gotten out of the fire. I’ll get to fall in love again. And that’s the upside of gratitude and starting over – even though I lost so much, I realize I have a lot of reasons to begin again.

Life

Internet in Costa Rica

Christa Avampato

The internet in Costa Rica is horrendous and everything else is incredible. I will likely be unable to post to this blog for the remainder of this week, but never fear. I´ll be writing every day and will upload all of the posts when I return to the U.S. this weekend.

I will say that the people in Costa Rica are among the friendliest and most genuine I´ve ever met. My Spanish is flooding back into my mind, and I immediately felt at home here. In just one day, I have so much to share. This is a place of tremendous healing and happiness. This will be a turning point in my life that I will look back on with great fondness.

Hasta Domingo….

Life

The Journal of Cultural Conversation launches a re-designed site

Christa Avampato
Hello contributors to and supporters of The Journal of Cultural Conversation (TJCC)!
Just wanted to let you know that the new site is up – we’re still working out a few of the kinks, but we’re absolutely thrilled about the new look and feel. We’ll be posting this weekend and will be somewhat revising our posting schedule moving forward – but will keep everyone informed on the site.

Come visit us at http://thejcconline.com and join the conversation!

As we’re getting the word out, and if you feel so inclined, we’d be so appreciative if you’d spread the word about our new home – even a Tweet would help 🙂

Again, thanks so much for all of your support. We’d love to hear any and all comments and feedback on the new design and content. We’re really excited!