Category: nature

determination, India, nature, travel

Leap: A Tree Grows in India, Where Everything is Possible

Christa Avampato
Tree growing on mountainside in Munnar, Kerala. India.

This picture is one of my favorite photos from India. After a torrential downpour high in the mountains of Munnar, Kerala, the sun came out and lit up the entire valley as my incredible driver and guide, Jose, wound us safely down toward the hotel. We pulled over to the side of the road to take in the pastures down below and the mountains up above.

On the side of the mountain, we found this tree. The roots entirely exposed and yet solid as a rock, healthy and strong. Jose said it had been in that state for years, monsoon season after monsoon season.

“How is that possible?” I asked, thinking of all of the tree that are routinely knocked down by storms in New York City’s Central Park.

“Miss Rose, this is India. Here everything is possible.”

As we made our way toward the hotel, Jose told me about his plans to leave his current job and start up his own bike tour business when his contract is up at the end of the year. He has been leading mountain bike tours all over southern India as a side business.

He’s become so passionate about it, that he’s undertaking his venture full-time. He sees the upside of this risk and wants to capitalize on it. The worst that will happen is that it won’t work and he’ll easily go back to working for a tour company because he is so sought after for his knowledge and expertise on everything South India.

Here I am fretting about my upcoming leap when we have so many more advantages here in the U.S. to change our lives for the better. Meeting Jose was certainly the Universe speaking to me loud and clear. “Go and see what you find. Learn. Explore. Do. Everything is possible. It’s up to us.”

Earth Day, environment, nature

Leap: Play a Part in Saving the Planet

Christa Avampato

My friend, Javi, is inspired to help people save the world. Literally save the world. To that end, he’s started his own site that offers tips on environmental protection and activism. I’m always glad to support friends who are doing good works. Check out his site, connect, and get those green gears turning. Happy Earth Month!

Photo from Pinterest member http://pinterest.com/sherrij/
growth, inspiration, nature

Leap: Grow Where You’re Planted

Christa Avampato
From Pinterest member http://pinterest.com/pewterandsage/

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.

adventure, change, nature

Leap: Stop Seeking Stillness

Christa Avampato
From Pinterest member http://pinterest.com/dotsc/

“There is nothing still. Life is never still. No plant, no animal, no river. Can we think of Nature as a metaphor and keep ourselves constantly evolving?” ~ Anil Gupta

Over the past few stressful weeks, I’ve found myself seeking stillness, seeking an end to all whirring in my mind. It’s been hard to make it work, and I began to doubt whether or not I have really embodied all these lessons from my yoga and meditation practices, and from the intense personal development work I’ve undergone in the past two years with Brian. “Maybe I haven’t learned a damn thing,” I wondered.

And then I came across this quote on Daily Good, which is just about the best inspirational site anyone could possibly build. It serves up just the right message at just the right time. My pursuit of stillness feels frustrating because stillness is just not possible. I shouldn’t have been seeking stillness; I should have been seeking quiet. Those are two very different things.

Looking for the quiet spaces in our lives allows us to tune in to the flow and buzz of life. And not the lives we invent, but the underlying lifeblood that serves as the root of every living thing. That’s where the greater intelligence lies. That’s where our gut instincts and intuition mix and mingle, waiting for us to notice them, to stop by, and to listen. That flow is moving, moving all the time, taking in new information, new insights, and building never-before-seen connections.

Change never lets up, and we must move with it, not against it. Even when we’re scared. Especially when we’re scared. That’s the time to get quiet, to tap in, and to recognize that we are part of the great dance. There will come a time for stillness, but I hope it’s a long way off for you and me. We still have so much to do.

This post is also available as a podcast.

dreams, faith, fate, nature, opportunity

Leap: My Conversation Along the Path with the Moon

Christa Avampato
Photo by Neil Leighton

“Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting — over and over announcing your place in the family of things.” ~ Mary Oliver via DailyGood

There is a world beyond what we can see, hear, and touch.

Every once in a while I get a glimpse of this world, usually in the deep recesses of the night, and it snaps me awake, not in a shake-me-out-of-bed sort of way, but in a very cosmic everything-is-going-to-be-okay sort of way. It happened last Tuesday in the wee hours of the morning. On Monday night I had a session with Brian that left my mind churning about exciting new possibilities as I commit to taking this leap in my career.

I thought I was dreaming as I heard a very gentle calling from an old woman to the effect of, “If you can put your trust in me, I promise you it will be okay. You will be okay.” My eyes gently opened upon hearing this and I found that the light of the moon shone very brightly through my window. I’d never seen it in that position outside my window, and it had never shown through that brightly. It felt like a spotlight on me. It looked full. I cocked my head to one side (similar to the stance Phineas takes when he hears an unexpected sound on our walks), realizing very clearly that the voice was coming from the moon. And it didn’t seem the least bit odd.

I climbed out of bed, walked over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and saw that without the curtain the moon was only half full. I put the curtain back in place and again it appeared full. I have no idea why and I didn’t question it in my sleepy state.

I crawled back into bed and gazed at the moon. “So all I have to do is trust? Trust that leaping is the right thing to do?” I asked. And she glowed back a nod and a gentle “yes.” That was it. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

A few hours later, I woke to my alarm, bundled up, and then bundled up Phin. He led the way to Riverside Park without hesitation, and I gladly took his lead as I turned over in my mind my encounter with the moon. Did that really happen, or was I dreaming? In the rising daylight, I reasoned that of course I had been dreaming.

And then Phineas stopped. Just stopped right by a tree and sat down, facing west. I stood in place next to him and looked out over the chilly Hudson to see a low orange moon, full now (for real), setting on the western horizon as the sun was making its way up in the East. She didn’t say anything this time. She just sat there and looked at me as Phineas and I looked back, all resolute in the fact that yes, of course it would all be okay. It has to be because we’re on the path we’re meant for, and when our actions fall in line with our destiny the world oddly, beautifully,  inexplicably cooperates.

Doors open by the light of the moon, and all we need to do is walk through them.

animals, eating, food, nature, work

Beginning: Be Here Like a Duck in the Ocean

Christa Avampato

“The little duck is at ease in the heaving Atlantic because it is in the Atlantic. Rest in the immediate as though it were infinity.” – Edward Espe Brown, Buddhist monk , chef, and star of the documentary How to Cook Your Life, reading from a poem written by his mother as she was preparing for the end of her life

The kitchen holds an abundance of wisdom and life lessons if we choose to show up in it day after day with an open mind and heart. As I have recommitted to cooking more and teaching myself to bake, I find myself growing more and more present in my own life, in and out of the kitchen. I have long thought of myself as a recovering multi-tasker, trying again and again to foster a life of consciousness and presence. Too often this is the moment we miss, and knowing the preciousness and fleeting nature of life, I don’t want to miss any more moments.

I also try to be conscious of when I am fighting life, when I am plotting, planning, and charting my actions toward a specific outcome with little regard for present circumstances. I don’t believe in the road of least resistance. Every road has its hardships, every path its detours, and every life its suffering. I have never actually felt the easy way break open as some people have. Everything I’ve ever done has taken effort so I am quite used to and comfortable with work that feels like work. I’ve grown to enjoy it so long as it’s work that feels worth my time.

As for the little duck in the ocean, he is not just bobbing along carefree. Beneath the surface of the ocean, his little duck feet and legs are churning. Rather than having his efforts fight the ocean, they are working in tandem to the rhythm. It still takes energy and effort and attention. He isn’t floating along; he’s paddling and taking his directional cue from the ocean. He’s present and realizes the awesomeness of the ocean’s power. He channels that power in his own work below the surface. He is there, in that moment, and nowhere else. I try to follow his example.

courage, nature, New York City

Beginning: I Wish the 9/11 Site Was a Greenspace

Christa Avampato

Photo I took of the Freedom Tower on 7.12.11
I walk by the 9/11 site every day. My office building is right across the street, so close that the CEO of my company saw the plane fly into one of the towers from his office on the 50th floor. In the past 6 months, the amazing people who have worked at the site for close to 10 years have made incredible, visible progress after spending so much time excavating and securing the foundation of the area. The difficulties they have worked through are astounding.

Yesterday I had lunch at Nobu New York with the amazing Lynn Altman, founder of the innovation agency BrandNow. (If you aren’t familiar with Lynn’s work, hop over to her site and check it out. She’s one of the very best in the biz and I loved working with her!) Lynn had not been down to the 9/11 site in a while and was incredibly impressed with the recent progress, which spurred me to reconsider a thought I’ve had in the back of my mind for a number of years.

I am sure the Freedom Tower will be beautiful though I can’t help but wish that we had decided to build a living, breathing greenspace rather than another set of buildings. I’m imagining an impressive, lush, beautiful park. Gardens, fountains, and a true memorial of peace, respite, and life for all of the courageous and precious souls we lost there that day and the many more who in the aftermath risked it all as first responders.

Shouldn’t a memorial to life and resilience be paved with life itself rather than concrete?

change, nature, yoga

Beginning: Long Day’s Journey Into Night – A Lesson from 5 Days of Teaching Yoga

Christa Avampato

From http://redbubble.com
I taught yoga for the last 5 out of 7 days. Ironically, they were some of the worst days I ever had and some of the best nights I ever had. At work, every day felt like a Monday. During the yoga classes I taught, every night felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. These two parts of my life stood in such sharp contrast to one another it was impossible to ignore the insight.

There’s something to be said for practicality, for being grounded and logical. And there’s something equally as important to be said about following your gut and your heart, two very wise centers that are difficult to wrap up in logic. Here’s what I’m sure of – when the gut and the heart find themselves in sync, there’s some kind of magic moment that’s arrived and deserves to be seized with both hands.

A few weeks ago I wrote about the topic of transitions and I found myself teaching the lesson of transition in my yoga classes this week. As we move back and forth between two counter poses in a yoga practice, we’re sometimes so focused on the two end states of the postures that we don’t fully appreciate the transition. Each little movement in a transition is important. It deserves to have its say, to be appreciated for what it is all on its own and where it’s helping to take us.

My life feels like that now as I ratchet down the activities that feel like Monday and pump up the ones that feel like Friday afternoon at 5:00. Eventually, my life will reach a tipping point where the activities that don’t serve my greater purpose fall away. And those that bring energy and gladness will be all that’s left.

I think about this transition into the wellness field the way I think about the fun my niece, Lorelei, and I have at the beach. We toddle along the water’s edge looking for jellies that wash up on the sand with the incoming tide. Lorelei loves to look at those jellies. The water doesn’t come barreling in for high tide. The tide rolls in and rolls out one small inch at a time, bringing with it new and interesting gifts. It creeps forward to give us time to adjust.

This method of slow, purposeful change has worked for nature day in and day out for many centuries. Why should the rhythm of change in our own lives be any different? Welcome the transition and let each small step forward have its chance to shine and be recognized.

choices, creativity, luck, nature, religion

Beginning: The Long Shot of Life

Christa Avampato

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mathoov/2429733088/
While in Austin, I started reading the book, The Case for a Creator. My brother-in-law lent it to me after we watched the lunar eclipse together in December. Lee Strobel, the author, starts the book as a devout atheist. He speaks to scientists and researchers to examine their views on the origins of life. Though they have divergent views, there is one thing that they all agree on – the odds of life being created in its first instant were a case against all odds. The numerous conditions that had to come together to give life its first breath is nothing short of a miracle. Life, as we know it, was a long shot from the very beginning.

I thought about this idea over the weekend when Kira Campo, a Twitter friend of mine and Founder of The Creative Practice, were talking about creative projects we’re both pursuing. She asked if I thought they were a long shot. I absolutely think they’re a long shot, just like everything in life. As Brian so often tells me, “We get what we settle for.”

If nature and life itself have anything to teach us it’s that we have to believe that the long shot is possible. Somehow the necessary elements conspire and catapult us into a life we imagine. The turning points aren’t always obvious and often entirely unplanned. If we live long enough and look back on the moment that really make our lives what they are, we realize just how coincidental and synchronous life really is. Go for the long shot that you really want – it’s just as likely to come to fruition as any other possibility.

change, environment, evolution, nature, politics

Beginning: Crisis as a Pathway to Evolution

Christa Avampato

http://www.toonpool.com/cartoons/fish%20evolution%20overrated_49704
“We always talk about working together… perhaps crisis can give birth to new evolution.” ~ Yuka Saionji

In the past few weeks I have been bowled over by the amount of crisis in the world. I almost don’t bother to open the email alerts I get of what’s coming up on the nightly news. I already know what they’ll say – covering the dual crisis in Libya and Japan. The photos and descriptions of events happening in both countries are terrifying. And still, despite all of the destruction and violence, I do think this is an hour that holds a lot of promise. These two crises can bring us together is a powerful, meaningful way.

Thomas Friedman wrote an excellent column this week about our perfect storm of problems – the prolonged abuse of our environment is coming to bear in one natural disaster after another, violent revolutions in the Middle East threaten a great portion of our energy supply, and the ever-evolving situation with the Japanese nuclear plant casts a long shadow over our society’s view of nuclear energy. It would be easy to designate blame to a party other than ourselves, to point the finger away from us. In this hour of our history, the most helpful thing we can do is to take a good long look in the mirror, collectively and individually, and ask what we can do in this moment and in every moment going forward to create a healthier more sustainable world in every dimension.

For some sad reason, humans often require a burning platform before we can allow ourselves to change. I wish we didn’t, but the truth is until we have a darn good motivation to change, we just plod along as we always have. Something has to inspire to mix it up. Maybe the crisis in the Middle East is what we need to finally make our peace with all people, of all faiths. Maybe these terrifying natural disasters will change our daily habits to do what’s best to sustain and nurture our natural world. Maybe we’ll let go of even a fraction of our energy consumption. Perhaps Yuka Saionji is right, these crisis can be the catalyst to our own evolution.