Category: moving

change, friendship, home, moving, relationships, social media, social network

Leap: Social Media Provides Us With Room To Move

Christa Avampato
From Pinterest

As I think more about my potential move to a new city in the coming year, I realize how much freedom social media provides. I’m able to connect with friends and friends of friends to ask questions about potential new homes. And when I do make a decision of where to move, I don’t need to feel like I’m leaving behind my friends in NYC. I won’t see them as often in person but we will still be close with the lines of social networks drawn between us. I also remember that a number of people whom I consider good friends are people I know through this blog and other channels. I talk to many of them daily in one way or another.

This ability to make and keep connections over long distances makes moving easier than it’s ever been before. Moving to a new city doesn’t need to feel isolating or lonely, even while we are in the process of reestablishing our physical social lives. These reflections make a move from New York a less scary proposition, an exciting new possibility, and they open the way for options that I never would have considered before. As the world gets smaller, individual opportunities expand.

moving, New York City, travel, yoga

Beginning: Making Lemonade and Reconfiguring My Fall

Christa Avampato

The social summer is just about to begin this weekend, and already I was planning my Fall.

An apartment lost
I have been considering a move to a new apartment after my lease expires in September. I found one with my current management company and put in an application a few weeks ago. A completely gut-renovated 1 bedroom with a private garden. It was going to be spectacular. I’m sure it still will be, but it’s not going to be mine. For financial reasons, it’s better for the management company to accept another application from one of my neighbors who’s been in her rent-controlled 2 bedroom / 2 bath / formal dining room apartment for 27 years. New York real estate, and the current rental market in particular, is a business focused on cold, hard cash.

And relief found
I thought I’d be disappointed with the loss of the opportunity, and all I felt upon hanging up the phone with my real estate agent was an enormous sigh of relief. I felt free of a lot of burdens, some I didn’t even realize I was carrying. It was no coincidence that when I hung up with the agent, I found myself in front of my small Ganesha statue that’s part of my meditation space. (He is known in Hindu scriptures to be the remover of obstacles, and he and I have a long-time understanding that when I don’t get what I want it’s always for my own good.) I had put a number of other options for my Fall on hold because I assumed I’d be busy with packing and moving. Now that I’ll be staying in my cozy studio, all these questions that have been floating around in my mind were completely settled in one fell swoop:

1.) 300 hour yoga teacher training at ISHTA. I attended their info session a few weeks ago and was very impressed with what they had to offer for teachers interested in using yoga for therapeutic purposes, my intended pursuit with Compass Yoga. Now that I won’t be moving, I will be able to make the time to attend their September 2011 – March 2012 program, and my plans for Compass will be right on track.

2.) Volunteer vacations. It’s been about a year and a half since I went to Costa Rica with Cross-Cultural Solutions in 2009, and I’ve wanted to take another volunteer vacation since the moment I got back. I taught yoga in Costa Rica and spent time working with the elders and children in and around Cartago. I’m making plans to travel to Haiti in September to work with my friends who run the nonprofit Healing Haiti. There’s also a possibility with Cross-Cultural Solutions of being one of the first batch of Americans who can legally travel to Cuba again as part of their volunteer program there. More details to come.

3.) No packing means a chance to redecorate. Yesterday I was flipping through a few interior design sites and one of them talked about how important it is for your space to give you a specific feeling every time you return home. That feeling should be the basis of your decorating rather than focusing on specific colors or arrangements purely for aesthetic reasons. Similar to the realization of the power of the question, “Why?” when building dreams, I had the same kind of feeling here. I’ve never thought about the design of my space as having a specific feeling, but rather a specific look. This new perspective gives me all types of design ideas that I’m excited to put into action in my space.

4.) Enjoy summer. I would have spent a good portion of the summer packing, planning,and reconfiguring my life for my new digs. Studies say moving is the most stressful event in our lives next to the death of a loved one. Crazy, but anyone who’s moved, especially in New York City, knows how tough it can be. Now I have the opportunity to just enjoy the summer knowing that Fall will come in due time without the stress of planning a move.

Aside from all of these logistical reasons for being happy about this news, there was a bigger life lesson for me, too. In the past I have been an obsessive planner. My coach, Brian, and I have worked on this area a lot over the past year. I’ve always been someone so worried that plans A, B, and C wouldn’t work out that I had to have back-up plans D, E, and F ready to go at a moment’s notice. This kind of behavior is an enormous waste of time, and sadly it’s served me so well in the past that it became an annoying habit. In the past year I’ve been able to let go of a lot of that.

We can’t possibly plan for every chance event, and to try to do that is a thankless task. I improvise more often now, and more importantly, I trust myself, the universe, and the idea that somehow our lives work out in the best way possible so long as we commit to show up and do our best every day. It’s all I can do, and that’s enough. Lesson confirmed.

moving, travel

Step 172: Learning to Leap

Christa Avampato

“Do not confuse motion for progress.” ~ Alfred A. Montapert

With my cold last week, I spent a lot of time sitting. I didn’t go outside much, I slept a lot, and I spent some hours curled up on my couch just lounging. I can’t tell you the last time I just lounged around. I am always on the move, hopping here, there, and everywhere like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Sitting, I had time to think and consider and mull over some ideas.

My obsession with moving started when I was very young. My dad used to read the New York Times every day and I used to steal the magazine section, not to read the articles, but to look at the travel ads in the back. One summer I ordered every travel guide that was advertised that had a 1-800 number. We didn’t travel much when I was little and these travel guides helped me dream of far away places. I kept them neatly stacked in piles under my bed and I spent as much time as I could pouring through them. Ireland, South Africa, New Zealand, Chile. There wasn’t a single place I didn’t want to travel to. And so began my life of wandering.

I kept that going after college managing Broadway shows and national tours that took me all over the U.S. and Canada. I spent my vacations trekking around, 2 trips to Europe with only a backpack and a guidebook, the Alaska wilderness, and the Caribbean. In business school, I went to South Africa and loved every moment, even the moments after my passport was stolen. In the Fall I went to Costa Rica and next week I’ll be taking in the islands of Greece. There is so much I want to see. The fact that I’ve lived in the same city for the past 3 years is a monumental record.

I’ve always been afraid that if I sat still I’d miss something and thereby miss out on something. I thought motion meant progress. And more importantly, I thought that I couldn’t progress if I didn’t move.

But this last week I experienced a profound change of heart. In the book Glimmer, Warren Berger talks about the idea of jumping fences. When we sit and wait and observe rather than jumping on every new trend or opportunity we have the ability to store up our energy, hone our learning, and jump not just one step ahead, but many. Fence jumpers, Berger argues, are the ones who truly transform our world. They know themselves, they know why they’re jumping (and it’s not just for jumping sake), and they have the strength and stamina to make the leap and stick the landing. Now that sounds like progress.

I don’t think I’ll ever give up trekking around this globe. I’ll keep going for as long as my bank account can take me. But now I’ll also spend some more time re-energizing, and maybe even get in a little more lounge time. Jumping fences sounds like a good hobby to take up.

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.
change, economy, home, moving, New York City, recession

My Year of Hopefulness – While You Were Out

Christa Avampato

Today I went to pick up all of the keys for my new apartment. At 9am tomorrow, I’ll be happily skipping around my new, renovated, larger, cheaper apartment a mere four blocks from my old one – a very positive, unintended consequence of the recession.

I was too excited sleep this morning, so I was up and out the door early. I missed my old neighborhood, even though I’ve only been gone two weeks. I wanted to take some time to walk around before meeting my new landlord.

When I hopped off the train and walked a few blocks, I was surprised to see how much has changed. More store fronts have closed up, and a few formerly vacant ones are now occupied. A 10-story condo building is going up a few doors down from my new digs. The 96th Street subway construction looks like it may actually be finished some time relatively soon. And two blocks away, I’m not just getting a Whole Foods (which has me smiling widely) but an entire retail complex called Columbus Square (get it?) that includes a Crumbs (gasp)! I may never have to leave my new little haven of hope.
I’m one of those folks who’s always surprised that any place I’ve been changes while I’m away. The way it is in my mind at last sight, is the way it remains frozen, captured in time. Like my friend, Brandi, I should be walking around with a camera at every moment so that I can quickly snap images of our ever-changing world. Tomorrow everything could be different.
My experience today makes me realize why exhibits like Camilo Jose Vergara’s beautiful tribute to Harlem are so powerful, poignant, and necessary. Just as we are always in a process of becoming, so are the communities where we live. Just as we want to tell our own stories, so do our cities.
The image above was taken by Ruby Washington/The New York Times.
forgiveness, home, moving, New York City, worry

My Year of Hopefulness – Seized Engine

Christa Avampato

The movers from Flatrate Moving have arrived! Only about an hour late – though very nice guys. I’ll take late but nice; far better than on-time and cranky. They were late because they put the wrong fuel in the truck, or someone at the company did. They had to go get a Budget rental truck to complete my move. I can’t imagine how nerve-wracking it is to be a mover.

I thought I was anxious about the move because I would watch all my stuff being carted away – off to storage for two weeks – hoping I’ll see it again in some decent form. Turns out I was anxious for an entirely different reason which I only realized while talking to my sister, Weez. I was worried I’d disappoint my movers. Did I pack the boxes incorrectly? Did I not use enough tape? Did I pack too much in them. Are they going to be cursing my name and playing catch with my belongings?

As Weez pointed out, this is ridiculous, especially considering that I triple taped every box, put my initials and box numbers on at least 3 sides of each box, and set them out in numerical order. (I feel my OCD coming out.) They had their engine seize and were late – they felt badly about it; I was worried about the packing of my boxes and I felt badly about it. We worry so much about disappointing one another; as it turns out, the cure to disappointment is forgiveness and understanding – something we can all do.

One of my movers looked around at my things and said, “this is it?” “Yep, minus the lamps – I’m giving those away to goodwill this afternoon.” “Don’t worry,” he said. “We plan for everything – it will all be fine.” Were my nerves showing?

And then my landlady, Ann-Marie stopped by, to inquire about the keys, my forwarding address, etc. She gave me a hug, kissed me on the check, and wished me well. Since I’ll still be in the neighborhood, I’ll be seeing them around. She and her husband, Joe, have been very good to me, and I appreciate everything they did to help me in my transition back to NYC two years ago.

30 minutes after their arrival, the move’s almost done. The wondrous sound of packing tape are the background music for this post and it’s music to my ears; maybe my triple taping wasn’t enough. No problem though, the movers have me covered. The knots in my stomach are finally beginning to disappear.

home, moving, New York City

My Year of Hopefulness – A Sea of Brown Boxes

Christa Avampato

I’m writing to you tonight atop of a sea of brown boxes containing the tangible contents of my life. The sorting and packing processes are complete. Everything’s taped up, awaiting the movers who arrive bright and early tomorrow morning at 9.

Because my new apartment’s renovations won’t be complete until mid-August, my belongings are headed for the world of storage for safe keeping. I’ll be staying with friends with only two suitcases and a backpack. I still think I’ve overpacked for two weeks. (Do I really need those pink espadrilles for the next 14 days?)

To give myself some peace of mind, I started making an inventory of what’s contained in each box – just a general overview – in the event that my things get misplaced during the move. Trouble is that I thought I could remember what they contained after I’d sealed them. Turns out I haven’t the faintest idea of what’s inside about half of them. Now this could be because it’s nearly midnight and I’m tired. It could be because I’m in post-packer’s coma, and more than slightly incoherent after a long, long day of packing, cleaning, and tossing.

It would be nice to use a logical excuse here to explain my forgetfulness. Truthfully, I know why I can’t remember what’s in half these boxes – because it doesn’t matter. I’m not a “things” person. Why do I need 25 brown Home Depot boxes packed to the gills and sealed with duct tape? I don’t – and even though I sent a lot of my belongings out to retirement, I still have much more than I thought I did. And much more than I actually need.

Too late now, though. Flatrate Moving will be ringing up my Amex card around 10am tomorrow for a larger amount than I ever imagined I’d pay for movers. My bed is calling me for one last rest within this apartment that has been an incubator of creativity and exploration for me these last two years. It’s been a fun ride. New adventures in a new space are already calling me, and being a person who is unable to turn down adventure, I must answer them.

family, gifts, letter, moving, relationships, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – The Things We Keep

Christa Avampato

I’m in the midst of packing up my apartment. I’m amazed at the stuff I’ve got hanging around – old yearbooks, varsity letters from high school, cards, photos, letters, journals, magazine articles I meant to read once upon a time though for the life of me can’t remember why I was interested in reading them in the first place. It’s amazing what we accumulate.

I have two large closets in my front hallway that I have dreaded packing into boxes. I knew it would be a long, arduous process and therefore put it off as long as I could. Finally, I couldn’t sleep because I was so worried about packing them up so I just got up out of bed and started the inevitable sorting, tossing, and packing of their contents. Some of the memories they contain are painful, though most of them are happy. And thankfully, the contents are so old that my mind has gleefully erased most of the sadness, loss, frustration, and unhappiness that some of their contents used to trigger, leaving behind only the good memories in their wake.

I got my love for cards and letter writing from my grandmother, Sadie. She sent cards for every occasion from birthdays to Valentine’s Day to Halloween to First Day of School. I found a stack of them in one of the boxes crammed into the top shelf of my closet. I’d know that handwriting anywhere. My grandmother passed away 9 years ago, and still I miss getting those cards in her perfect cursive handwriting.

As I re-read the cards this week, I was overwhelmed with gratitude that I kept them. It’s my own little piece of her that I can always have. I hear her voice through those cards and am reminded of how much she loved me and cherished me. It’s things like these cards that have become my most cherished possessions. They didn’t cost a lot of money and they didn’t take a lot of time to create. Their simplicity and heartfelt emotion are the only gifts I ever really needed.

home, memory, moving

My Year of Hopefulness – The doors we close

Christa Avampato

Today I started packing up my apartment. I’m moving blocks down the street to a large, renovated apartment for less than I pay now. Go figure – one of the positive side effects of the recession. Rents are dropping in New York City like never before.

Packing up for a move is a curious activity. It begs the question, “what things do I really want to keep.” I packed up a few big bags this morning and hauled them off to the Salvation Army. Even though I do my best to combat clutter of any kind, things still accumulate. For me it’s mostly papers, magazines, and materials that relate to my writing that clutters up my apartment the most.

As many times as I’ve moved, I still get a little sentimental about leaving an apartment. Though my new space is much better than the apartment I currently live in, this apartment in particular has really meant something to me. I started my post-business school life here. I went through a job search, found my voice as a writer, and began my path to entrepreneurship right from this couch I’m sitting on. I watched President Obama’s acceptance speech and his inauguration here. I mended a broken heart and fell in love with New York again inside this tiny studio. The stock market crashed and the economy was driven to the brink as I watched CNN. Friends and family came to visit. My little niece, Lorelei, took her very first Manhattan step over the threshold of this apartment. It kept me safe, sane, and calm in the midst of a very busy city.

Any home is a lot more than just four walls and a roof. It’s a place where memories are built. Where great moments, big and small, take place. Everything in our lives stems from where we lay our heads at night so it’s only natural that there would be a little emotion in saying good-bye. After all, when we move, we are passing through a door that will close behind us for good. It’s a place to which we will never return and the only choice is to move forward.

So while I’m looking forward to being totally packed up and moved into my new four walls, I want to make sure I take the time to look back, just for a moment, and count the blessings that my current four walls housed. As Stephen Sondheim said, “This is where I began, being what I can.”

happiness, moving, New York, retail

On Happiness: Giving it Away

Christa Avampato

This weekend, a friend of mine moved out of her apartment of ten years. Messy roommate situation, messy subtler situation. She looked around her boxed up apartment to find almost 100 boxes, furniture in various conditions, much of her from her childhood home. She lost both her parents at a young age. She has worked so hard to get her life in order, to find her place in the world. She is one of the bravest people I know.

And even with so much courage, so much meditation on detaching herself from worldly possessions for the sake of lasting happiness, she is having a tough time letting go. Despite the fact that she is thrilled to be saving money, time, and effort by cleaning out many of these remaining remnants of her past, she is finding that letting go is in many ways just as painful as hanging on.

In the U.S., we are criticized as a nation of consumers, pack rats, too few people with too much stuff. I agree with that to an extent, except when the possessions we have really stand for a diary, a journal of where we’ve been and who’s played a part. My friend isn’t just letting of materials items; in a very really sense she is putting to rest a part of her life gone by. Giving up what’s been, what’s defined her, for the sake of what could be. It’s the gamble of a lifetime, literally.

We forget – details, events, emotions. Our minds have a wonderful way of glossing over many awful experiences, dulling the pain, or shock, or discomfort so that we can move forward. Friends and family remind us, and we keep mementos of past experiences to memorialize them. By giving away these mementos, we are not only giving away possessions, but also giving away the ability to recall the details down the road. We are losing a part of ourselves.

And we have to. We can’t possibly hang on to all of it. A lifetime holds so many things, people, occurrences. We have to assume the responsibility of editing our lives – of culling out the things that matter most from the great cumulative mass of living. It is the toughest job we will ever do. In seemingly simple acts like giving away furniture, we are choosing how to remember our lives and how to we will be remembered by others. As nice as a clean slate sounds, there is a period of mourning that happens in the cleansing.

My friend walked me to the subway Saturday afternoon after we spent a good couple of hours hashing through this idea of letting go. All I could do was give her two giant hugs, promise her my positive energy, and assure her that the next chapter would be an adventure. I am sure she walked away teary-eyed. I did, too. It’s part of the cleansing – a clean slate is on the way.