Category: nature

nature, yoga

Step 119: Finding Beauty

Christa Avampato

“Real beauty isn’t about symmetry or weight or makeup; it’s about looking life right in the face and seeing all its magnificence reflected in your own.” ~ Valerie Monroe

The beauty industry is a funny one. We spend gobs of money on creams, gels, cleansers, toners, and coloring to cover, extract, fill-in, pluck, nip, and fade every trace of experience from our physical appearance. I’m as guilty of it as anyone. I have a stash of products that I love and use every day. But I don’t feel my most beautiful with a face full of make-up and my hair done up. I find the most beauty on my yoga mat where I can see and feel the strength of my body, the clarity of my mind, and the joy of my smile. The rest is just a nice cover-up.

My yoga teacher, Jo, talks about aging in our teacher training. We’d all like to reverse the lines that time is leaving on our faces, and yet, those lines make us who we are. The experience they reflect allows us to connect to one another. And it is amazing to look at people who are truly joyful – they literally glow. Jo is one of those people. All of my yoga teachers are. Their beauty comes from being on the path.

Part of being on the path involves recognizing that we are a reflection of the world we live in, and that the world we live in is a reflection of who we are. There is no separation. It’s a gentle, continuous give and take. Real beauty isn’t in a jar, bottle, or tube. It’s out there, living, moving, and breathing through the world. You want to find real beauty? Go into the heart to see what lies there, and then get out into the world and share it.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

nature, weather, yoga

Step 79: Dancing with Joy

Christa Avampato

To get my Spring started off right on its first day, I went to a Prana yoga class at Sonic with Jeffrey, one of my favorite yoga teachers. Just being in the presence of his free spirit makes me smile. He is unabashedly his wild and wonderful self, and he encourages his students to bring that same sense of freedom into our own lives, in our own way.

At the start of the class we moved through a vinyasa (flow of poses) that I had never tried before, poses I wouldn’t have thought to piece together. It was a glorious mash-up of strength and endurance and grace. And then, we danced. To welcome spring, we danced around the studio arms flailing, laughing, shouting, literally jumping for joy. No rules or guidelines. Just dance. We felt the tingle of life.

As I walked home, I reminded myself how important it is to let go, and to help others let go. I thought about the power of celebration and change and community. I smiled wide, turned my face to the sun that provided us with a 74 degree day in New York City, and whispered, “welcome.” A time of new beginnings has begun.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

change, learning, nature

Step 78: Lessons from Winter

Christa Avampato

I’m ready to say good-bye to Winter. I’m not someone who dreads the cold – I actually enjoy it. I like sweaters and boots and jeans. I like the snow and the look of the Winter sky. I like cocooning. Johanna, one of yoga teachers, was quick to remind us that without Winter, there can be no spring; without death there is no rebirth.

So while it was my first inclination to kick Winter to the curb, I realized that wasn’t a good idea. Winter deserves a proper good-bye. Maybe even a thanks. I learned a lot this winter. Tough lessons, yes, but ones that were so necessary. Lessons that I would live a lesser life without.

Lessons from Winter:
1.) We all have limits. Acknowledging them gives us the opportunity to challenge ourselves and improve our decision-making, thereby increasing our levels of happiness in the long-run.
2.) There’s no glory in having every minute of free time packed to the gills; spontaneity brings great joy.
3.) It’s okay to sit with loss; it’s okay to feel a little empty; it’s okay to have room in our lives because room offers the chance for new beginnings.
4.) “I don’t know” is not a declaration of weakness; it’s the very beginning of something that will come to be.

So long winter, and thank you for teaching me in spite of the difficulty of the task. Because of you, my Spring and Summer is now set to be far happier than they would have been without you. I’ll see you in December, when I’m sure you’ll arrive with even more lessons that I will undoubtedly need. Next time, I’ll be a more willing student.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

environment, nature, New York City

Step 52: Signs of Life

Christa Avampato

Yesterday I spent most of the day outside running errands and meeting up with friends. As I headed down Broadway in the morning, I could feel the Earth yawning and stretching. It was warm for a February day in New York City, 50 degrees. Birds were chirping, skies were blue. I breathed in, breathed out, and thought, “Spring, you are going to find us again.”

This has been a long, cold, tiring winter. Every once in a while I would see little sprigs of life popping up, trying so hard to bloom despite the hard ground, wind, and low temperatures. It was as if the universe was saying, “no, not just yet. Rest a little while longer.”

So I did. I had to put some ideas back on the shelf, some projects into my safe-keeping box, and wait for fairer weather. Yesterday, I felt like life all around me had turned a corner, was beginning to awaken and rise and be heard. And as a result, I felt life within me begin to rise, too.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

change, dreams, gifts, nature

Step 4: The Gift of a Fallen Branch

Christa Avampato

“Use the talents you possess – for the woods would be a very silent place if no birds sang except for the best.” ~ Henry Van Dyke

In that tangled tree diagram of life options, I had assumed that my life would unfold a certain way this week. Instead, the option I considered least likely came to be. The trouble, or perhaps the beauty, is that this unlikely branch is entirely under-developed. Beginning today, I get to imagine a future I didn’t think I’d have just yet.

Brian and I talked tonight about the idea of prana, the intelligent undercurrent of energy that makes itself at home beneath of the narrative of our lives. In times of authenticity, that current supports our actions. When we’re acting against our nature, living our lives to a lesser extent than what’s possible, our prana breaks through, making room in the world for our true selves to emerge. Try as we might to suppress it, our prana will not be kept down for long. Eventually, we will have no choice but to live our lives to the fullest. We have to show up in the world and be everything we are capable of being.

I was willing to take the other branch, to remain in a holding pattern that would delay where I really want my life to go. Today the universe took that option away. No more delays allowed. Sometimes not getting what we wish for is the best gift we can receive.

The photo above is not my own. It can be found here.

dreams, hope, inspiration, nature, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Castles in the Air

Christa Avampato

“Do not worry if you have built your castles in the air. They are where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

This is my 365th day of actively seeking out and writing about hope. This was my one New Year’s Resolution for 2009: to feel more hopeful and record what I found here on this blog to help others feel more hopeful, too.

On this day last year, I had no idea that my life would look as it does today, in any respect. I can say with great confidence that this has been a year filled with more change than any other year I have had. Part of me wonders if that is actually my doing: did I precipitate all of this change or did the change just happen to me? I suspect it’s a mix of the two. I can also say with great confidence that today I feel exponentially more hopeful than I did one year ago. And I hope that these 365 blog posts have made others a little more hopeful, too. If so, then I achieved what I set out to do in my writing in 2009.

There are so many reflections I have on this year of writing about hope, so many things I’ve learned about myself, about others, about my community, and about the world as a whole. However, one revelation stands far above the others: when I actively, passionately search for something, I will inevitably find it because I will not give up until my task is done. And the truly remarkable thing is that yes, if I span the globe I can find millions of pieces of hope “out there”, though the pieces of hope that mean the most to me are with me all the time. I carry them inside of me.

Now what will I do next? I’ve got overflowing buckets of hope; how can they be put to the best use? My pal, Laura, asked me this question about two months ago while we were at dinner. Without missing a beat, I told her that for the next year I’d do one thing every day that used all that hope to build an extraordinary life. The answer just sprang from my mouth, no thought required. It was a wish my heart made.

So here we go: beginning tomorrow, I will write a post every day in 2010 that will describe the one thing I did that day that put me one tiny step (or one great leap) closer to living an extraordinary life. The wheels of change are well greased from the events of 2009, so I expect more big changes in 2010. My friend, Kelly, has had a mantra all year of “begin again in 2010.” She’s a wise woman, someone who is both a friend and a mentor, and I’m taking her advice.

The final thought I have as I close out this year relates to nature, a topic from which I’ve drawn a lot of hopeful examples. It’s a butterfly analogy, though not the stereotypical one of beautiful re-birth. When a tiny caterpillar wraps itself up in a cocoon, it purposely constructs the cocoon to be very tight so that the butterfly has to struggle to emerge. It has to wiggle and turn and twist, completing exhausting itself inside the too-tight casing. There are oils on the inside of the cocoon and when the butterfly struggles the oils are distributed over its wings. It will not be able to free itself until the oils are distributed evenly over its wings. Those oils build a layer over the butterfly’s wings that keep the wings from breaking apart when it flies. Without the oil coating on its wings, the butterfly would break apart the moment it tried to fly.

I think about my own struggles, and the struggles of the world, through the lens of the butterfly. The twisting and turning is a painful process. It wears me out, and yet that struggle is so necessary to my development and success. I would never be able to fly without the distribution of its lessons throughout my life. I have struggled long enough and my struggles have done an excellent job of building up the foundation of my life. So let the flight begin toward my castles in the air.

change, nature

My Year of Hopefulness – Nature’s Lesson

Christa Avampato

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” ~ Lao Tzu

We live in a deadline-conscious world. Every day there is another to-do list, another crisis to attend to, another stress we didn’t count on. Sometimes I feel stressed by my to-do list. This weekend even though I had a lot to do, I focused on enjoying every task. Even studying for my GREs. My stress of to-do’s comes from always thinking about the next item I need to accomplish on my list. By enjoying every moment, even the busiest ones, I felt a greater sense of satisfaction, and I got my list completed faster than I thought I could.

I wonder if nature takes this same approach with her own to-do list. Nature operates on the principle of “just enough”. Just enough consumption and production. Natures conducts life in seasons, surging at certain times and resting at others. Renewing and replenishing when needed. Taking the opportunity to grow and flourish when the conditions are just right.

As I worked through my to-do list this weekend, I wondered if we could build lives that more closely resemble nature’s way of working. Could we place just the right amount of effort into the different parts of our lives? Could we learn to eliminate waste in all its forms as much as possible, take advantage of positive circumstances, and learn to retreat and wait when the skies above us grow dark? Could we find a way for all the pieces of our lives to integrate into one beautiful landscape? Can we gracefully adapt to change?

With nature as such a healthy example, I’m hopeful that we can find greater harmony, within ourselves and with others if only we set our minds and hearts to it.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

change, nature, simplicity

My Year of Hopefulness – Sunsets and Moments

Christa Avampato

The brilliant women over at Owning Pink made one of my recent posts to their blog their homepage this morning. I’m honored and humbled. Thanks to Keith for inspiring this post. From the comments on the original Owning Pink blog, it helped a lot of people. It’s an amazing gift to be able to write things that help others – especially since this writing helps me so much.

“On Saturday afternoon as I was walking back to my apartment, I came around the corner and saw this amazing sunset, one of the most beautiful I had ever seen. I raced upstairs to my apartment, grabbed by camera, and jumped out the window to snap a photo of it. And you know what? It didn’t work. No matter what settings I changed on my camera, I just couldn’t get the photo of the sunset to look the way it actually was. My eyes saw something so much more beautiful than my camera could capture and hold.

So all I could do was stand there on the roof, basking in the glory of all those colors. As the sky turned darker, the sunset got more and more beautiful. The colors evolved and mingled and every moment was more incredible than the moment before. Our lives are like that, too, so long as we just let them unfold in their own time, in their own way.

With every experience, our lives grow richer, each one adding its own little dab of color. I know that all of the things I’m working on now are little dabs, and they might not seem like they belong together just yet. I know that they will find a way to work together, and that eventually the art of my life will emerge. That will happen for all of us. It’s not a matter of if, just a matter of when. Our only job is to show up every day, for ourselves and for the people we love, and let life unfold moment by moment.

Today someone sent me an amazing video from Radio Lab about moments. http://blogs.wnyc.org/radiolab/2009/08/14/16-moments/

I love it so much that I’ve played it over several times now. It features the moments of every day life, mostly things we take for granted. As I watched the video I became even more aware that these little moments, the things we don’t or can’t capture and hold, are the building blocks of our lives. While mostly simple and ordinary this is the stuff of our days. It reminded me that there is always time and cause for celebration.

In what ways can you slow things down, just a little? What is there to notice? How might it change the way you live, love, and celebrate?

Watching it all unfold,
Christa”

friendship, hope, letter, loss, nature, women, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Owning Pink’s Tribute

Christa Avampato

I usually only publish one hopeful inspiration per day on this blog. Today is special for a lot of reasons, so I’m publishing two.

One month ago today, my apartment building caught fire, and set off a month of changes in my life that I never saw coming. Quite, frankly, none of them were changes I wanted. They were uncomfortable, sad changes that made me question everything in my life. Everything. One month ago today, at this very moment, I ran out of my burning building, fire crackling underneath my kitchen floor. I was standing on the street with nothing but my keys, watching my building burn. I was crying, scared, and alone. And much to my surprise, I emerged from this month, today, a stronger, happier, more confident person than I ever was before.

So it is with such heart-felt thanks I wanted to pay a big Pink tribute to a group of women who are one of the very best parts of my life. Today my lovely friends, Lissa and Joy, over at Owning Pink, an on-line community I belong to, honored me by making one of my recent blog posts, a letter I wrote to October, their mainstage story. I barely know what to say. I had no idea that my little post would inspire such beautiful writing from others women whom I respect and admire so much. I cried when I read the story that Joy and Lissa wrote about my post. I really don’t have any words to tell them how honored and fortunate I feel to have them in my life.

Today I realized with clarity how much good we have to offer by sharing our stories. One of my favorite quotes is by Isak Dinesen: “All sorrows can be borne if you can put them into a story.” I am living proof of this. As the telling of our stories frees us, they also allow others to free themselves through their own writing. The ladies of Owning Pink also made me realize without a doubt that I can make a go-of-it as a full-time writer. It’s a gift that I am not sure how to repay.

Owning Pink is a community I am so fortunate to be a part of. They have gone above and beyond the call for me during the last few weeks of my life that have been so difficult. Their love and support is a gift in my life that I truly cherish and I look forward to being there for them in the months and years ahead. Here’s to a beautiful, enlightened October for all of us!

To view the story on Owning Pink’s website please visit:
http://www.owningpink.com/2009/10/05/mojo-monday-exercise-write-a-letter-to-october/

exercise, friendship, nature, New York, New York Public Library, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – The Woods Can Wait

Christa Avampato

I woke up at 5:45 on Sunday morning with the feeling that it was Christmas. I could barely sleep I was so excited. My friend and writing partner, Laura, made plans a few weeks ago to head up to Lake Minnewaska today with a group called Adventure Society. I’ve been interested in trying out their trips for over a year and Sunday was the day.

Got a new backpack, some gear at Patagonia, and bought a slew of snacks at Whole Foods. I was a bit surprised at the extensive “to-bring” list that Adventure Society emailed to us. My sister, Weez, and I used to go trekking up to that area regularly when we were kids donning sweatshirts and flip-flops. I grew up very close to Lake Minnewaska, and all we ever brought along was a bag of chips and some water. Maybe when you grow up in the mountains you’re hardier than most others would be in that climate.

The subway was just not working properly so after waiting for 20 minutes, I hopped into a cab and headed to the meeting spot on 59th and 9th. I didn’t want to be late and miss the group – they stated very clearly that “we wait for no one”. Laura was there along with a few others. I wouldn’t call the other people unfriendly, but I certainly wouldn’t say I was excited about being in a van with them for two hours in each direction. Hmmmm….was this a good idea?

About 20 minutes later, we were still at Starbucks. Apparently our trip leader had been mugged late on Saturday night, had the van keys, and couldn’t be located. The substitute trip leader said he was heading down to 39th and 9th to pick up a new van. I felt a little dark cloud making its way over our group.

By 8:30, I started to really questions whether or not this was a good idea. Still at Starbucks, the traffic would be tough now and the trip would be cut short by a significant amount. Being quicker than I am to pick up questionable vibes, Laura had decided 15 minutes ago that this didn’t sound like a good idea at all. So we bid our group farewell, left the Starbucks, and headed up to Central Park on a hike of our own.

We wound our way East and then back West again. We eventually ended up at Sarabeth’s with never-empty cups of coffee, a plate full of pancakes between us to share with our own individual meals to boot. I was overjoyed to not be in that van. Just being with a good friend, talking about our writing, was all I really needed this morning. The trees and grass and squirrels would have been great, though our ability to be flexible and accept to what the world had handed us today gave us just as much happiness.

“We can just go some other time,” I said.

“Yes,” Laura said. “I mean, where are the woods going?” We smiled at each other and chowed down.

We had a whole free day. Laura went home to work on the TJCC site re-design. I went back to my apartment, got out of my multiple layers of hiking clothes, and made my way to the Rose Main Reading Room to be a writer for the day. Sitting in that incredible room, laptop shining, I smiled at having the day to myself to live inside my imagination. (If ever you need to be concentrated and inspired, I highly recommend the Rose Main Reading Room at the New York Public Library on 42nd Street.) My new Patagonia pull-over was supposed to be used for hiking in the mountains and instead I made use for it in the heavily air conditioned library. I was enormously productive. After four hours of straight writing, it’s a safe bet that if you’re looking for me on my free days, there I’ll be, fourth table from the back, glasses on, laptop opened, surrounded by books and papers, typing away.

As I headed home, I grabbed a cupcake from Crumbs, and thought about Robert Frost: The woods are lovely dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles [to write] before I sleep, and miles [to write] before I sleep. “At least for today,” I thought, “the woods will just have to wait.”

The photo above is not my own. It can be found here.