“To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest.” ~ Pema Chodron
Comfort feels so good that we never want to leave. The trouble is that if we never set out for higher ground, if we never throw ourselves out of our comfort zone and into unfamiliar territory, we don’t grow. We don’t learn just how strong we are. We only build resilience, determination, and grit by remaining focused in the face of discomfort. Life is a continual adaptation to change.
Sometimes, I wish this weren’t the case. I wish we didn’t need a burning platform to truly change our ways. I wish we could learn how to be calm in the face of discomfort without ever having to actually be uncomfortable.
It doesn’t work that way. Life is a full contact sport. We actually have to live it – all its ups and downs and the ride in-between – in order to understand what it’s all about.
For this reason, I don’t get frustrated or angry when the going gets tough. I may briefly feel sad or unhappy that something I wanted didn’t go my way. As a general rule, I give myself about 10 minutes to feel as terrible as I want to feel without passing any kind of judgement. I can sit in the dust of disappointment, shake my fists at the sky, and ask “why, why, why?” as loudly as possible. And then I need to pick myself up, shake off the dust, and get on with my day, grateful for the tough times upon me that help me to wake up and feel truly alive.
So often we hope that the clouds hanging above our heads will magically part but what I’ve found is that the clouds part through our own volition. We decide that it is time to clear them away. We climb up and with our own two hands, we brush them out-of-the-way to let the light in. We are happy, free, empowered, and awake by choice, not chance. We restore comfort in our lives by creating it in every circumstance of our living.
Encouraged by my baked brie and apples in homemade pastry dough, I set out on the journey to make homemade pasta and homemade sauce. All of my ancestors are Italian so this seems like something I should be genetically capable of doing. (Yes, I’m one of that breed that has not yet mixed into America which I always think is especially odd because I adore cultures that are radically different from my own.)
A few times in my life I’ve made sauce from scratch, though not in several years. I’ve never made homemade pasta before except for one attempt to make gnocchi in graduate school, which went fairly well. Armed with only an exceedingly simple recipe, a bag of all-purpose flour, and eggs I decided to dive in to see what these two hands could make.
The humble beginnings of homemade pasta sauceThe even more humble beginnings of pasta dough
I started with the sauce. I used this recipe from allrecipes.com as a base but left out the fennel seeds (couldn’t find any at my local grocery stores) and substituted cubes of beef for the sausage. I also added paprika, chili powder, red pepper, rosemary, sage, and thyme. (Simon & Garfunkel would be proud.) I should have stuck with the sausage for its flavor and fat content though I love the kick of the added heat from the extra spices. I only had about two hours to let it simmer. Next time, I’ll let it cook all day.
Once the sauce was on its way, I turned my attention to making the pasta. I used this recipe though it proved to be a bit too simplistic. (More details on that in a moment.) Similar to my experience with pastry dough, I seemed doomed for failure at the start. The eggs broke through the flour well I made and went running for dear life for the edge of the counter. I was too quick for them and caught them in time but they wrecked my plan to gradually add flour from the sides of the well. I kept breathing and kneading until I ended up with two perfect looking balls of pasta dough.
Pasta dough – ready for a quick nap in the fridge
I tucked the dough away in the fridge for about 30 minutes because I saw some advice online that this would make the dough easier to work with. I think it would have been a better idea to let the dough rest covered right on the counter. The dough was a tad bit tough when I retrieved it from the fridge. I pressed on.
While the dough was in the fridge, I turned my attention to the architecture of the pasta. Yep, I said architecture. In the land of pasta, form begets function just like it does for so many other products, edible or not. Last week, I saw a piece on CBS Sunday about George L. Legendre, a principal of IJP Architects in London and a leading specialist in complex surfaces, who has spent years collecting samples of every conceivable shape of pasta ever made. He captured his findings in the stunning volume Pasta by Design, which is exquisitely photographed by Stefano Grazini.
Legendre’s work and my own career as a product developer made me carefully consider the shape of my pasta. Knowing that my sauce was hearty and needed to be scooped up, I settled on orecchiette, a tiny ear-shaped pasta which gives it its name. “Orecchio” is Italian for “ear” and the addition of “-ette” at the end of an Italian word means “little”.
To make orecchiette, I rolled the dough out into a long tube, sliced it thinly and then used my thumb and a knife to roll the pasta into the ear shapes. Forming pasta felt like a very natural action for me – genetics at work combined with an intense desire to figure this out.
Putting my thumbs to good use. You could also use a flat-edge knife to shape the pasta.
After shaping the pasta, I placed it on a floured cookie sheet and then brought a pot of very salty water to a rolling boil. In went the raw orecchiette and out came the al dente ears about 5 minutes later. Slathered in sauce, I grated some fresh romano and parmesan cheese (we might as well go all the way here, folks!) and sat down to my very first entirely homemade pasta meal. And I was proud. Very proud. It was a solid first attempt with an endless amount of runway for improvement.
The finished product
Next time, I’ll use a more complex recipe for the pasta dough to improve both the taste and texture. I recently found this one that suggests a combination of semolina and all-purpose flour as well as a bit of salt and olive oil. Here’s an excellent resource that explains the differences between different types of flour. I found my pasta to be a bit too plain and a bit too tough. Also, I need to make the individual pieces of pasta MUCH smaller and thinner. My ears were giants in length and thickness which affected their texture and consistency. Luckily, I’ve got another 3 portions of pasta in my freezer just waiting to be used for another meal in the not-too-distant future.
After my meal, I sat down to my computer to write this post with the almost-winter sunshine of late afternoon streaming through my window. In the glow, I felt all of my dearly departed Italian ancestors sending good wishes for joyfully attempting to make something new to nourish my body, mind, and heart. There is something so special about crafting sustenance with our own two hands.
With all of the dishes washed and put away, I settled in with a mug of cocoa and a handful of gingerbread cookies for dessert. Sipping and nibbling away, I realized there’s no reason why I couldn’t make these treats during my next set of kitchen tricks. A homemade life is rather addictive, isn’t it?
Next on my list of culinary adventures – making my own hot cocoa and gingerbread cookies. Stay tuned!
“It is a miracle if you can find true friends, and it is a miracle if you have enough food to eat, and it is a miracle if you get to spend your days and evenings doing whatever it is you like to do, and the holiday season – like all the other seasons – is a good time not only to tell stories of miracles, but to think about the miracles in your own life, and to be grateful for them.” ~Lemony Snicket
The holidays are always an intense time of reflection for me. I think about what’s happened over the course of the year – what went right and where I fell off the tracks. I also consider what I’d like to manifest in my life in the coming year and what I might do to bring those circumstances to life. It often involves a combination of letting some things go, making time, exerting effort in a positive direction, and raising my awareness.
After traveling to India in May, I became hyper-aware of everything in my life that is wonderful and good. I found that if I put more investment into those areas of my life, those gifts multiplied while the unfortunate circumstances of my life that weren’t so joyful began to fall away. I also found that if I focused on the blessings right in front of me rather than always looking so far down the path at what I thought I needed, I enjoyed each day more and that happiness extended over the days ahead, soaking deep into every moment.
There were far more miracles in my life than I realized and to finally realize them felt like a much-welcome and long-overdue relief. I do have true friends. I have my fill of good food to eat. I spend my days and nights engaged in things I like to do. What more could I possibly need? The real miracle is to wake up knowing that I do not lack anything, to understand that I live a life of great abundance.
This miracle is at work every day and my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night is always “thank you, thank you, thank you.” May the same revelations find you this holiday season.
“Each of us will one day be judged by our standard of life — not by our standard of living; by our measure of giving — not by our measure of wealth; by our simple goodness — not by our seeming greatness.” ~ William Arthur Ward
I’ve always thought it odd that when we’re alive and vibrant we are so concerned about our titles, salaries, and possessions and then when our time is come and gone, no one ever remembers any of those things. They remember our kindness, generosity, and passions.
What if we could live in that latter realm? What if we could focus our energies on what truly affects others, on the impact we can have that will live on long after our days? How might our actual days change as a result?
We would take better care of our hearts, minds, and bodies. We’d take greater care with each other. We would make time to be with people, really be with people. We’d understand on a very deep level that the New Radicals were so right – you get what you give.
“If you’re going to go through hell I suggest you come back learning something.” ~ Drew Barrymore
As I approach the six month mark of my freelance life, I’m continuing to interview for additional contract work. Last week I was at an interview where someone commented about my ill-fated timing of joining a financial services firm in August of 2008. I joined 5 weeks before Lehman Brothers collapsed and hell broke loose in the financial markets. I was given two months, $200,000, and told to get a product out the door to customers by Thanksgiving or I would be fired. (These were my VP’s actual words. I’m happy to report he’s no longer with the company wreaking havoc.)
To be clear, it was an awful time for everyone. Whether you lost your job or kept your job, no one was having fun. In that moment, I had to make a choice. I could be terrified of joining the deep ranks of unemployment or I could vow to learn something amidst the chaos and uncertainty. Through no planning on my part, I had a front row seat to the recession whether I liked it or not. It was a tremendous, if strenuous, period of personal and professional growth.
In the depths of the recession, I sowed the seeds that ultimately allowed me to try my hand at this freelance life. Without that time of great difficulty, I might still be whiling away my time in cubicle land simply out of comfort. This isn’t a bad thing; it just isn’t the right thing for me. The discomfort I experienced in that job caused me to build a new plan. I am meant to walk a different path and it isn’t better than working at a big corporation. It’s only better for me.
I wouldn’t wish those days on anyone. There were times that I went to bed crying only to wake up with an even heavier heart. To get through that time, I actually wrote out a list of the positive things about my job and taped it above the lock on my front door so I would actually go to work instead of hiding under my bed. It was a short but poignant list that included items like “you’re getting a paycheck” and “you have health insurance”. Yes, it had actually come down to that, and it was depressing to say the least.
I don’t tell you this because I want you to feel badly for me. I was fine then, I’m fine now, and no matter what, I will always be fine. I tell you this story because I don’t want you to feel alone, ever.
Maybe you’re going through hell now, right this very moment. Maybe you’ve gone through hell several times over. Maybe your days of hell have not yet arrived. As far as I know, everyone who’s ever lived has had at least one royally awful day in their lives. I think when we’re born into this world, we sign some type of contract that requires at least a brush with hardship at some point. It’s a raw deal, I know. I feel your pain, literally and figuratively.
I don’t want to go all Pollyanna on you, mostly because it drives me crazy when people do that to me. You know the type – the people who think that if they don’t talk about tough times that somehow they’re immune to them. (To make lemonade, you actually do have to acknowledge the lemons.) But I do want you to hear a very honest and straightforward truth – without darkness, we never fully appreciate the light. We can’t. Our screwy, beautiful, human minds need contrast in order to drive toward understanding. I wish it weren’t true but I didn’t build the human mind so I refuse to take responsibility for any craziness except my own.
I can extend a very sincere “I hear ya” in your direction. The whole world’s gone crackers. It’s going to continue in that direction and we’re going to get caught in the cross-fire. Some of that’s not our fault and some of it is by our own design. It doesn’t matter. We’re all in it together and while we’re hanging around in this plane of existence, we might as well learn all we can. At every moment, there’s a teaching available to us, some wisdom that is meant for us. Our only job is to tap into that, take note, and use that knowledge at a future, to-be-determined date.
Learn, learn, learn. It’s the only way to keep your sanity, sense of purpose, and stamina. And if we’re going to get to a better tomorrow, we need those three things in great abundance.
“Every child begins the world again.” ~ Henry David Thoreau
On Thursday mornings at 10:30am, I teach a Chair Yoga for Seniors class. And these seniors aren’t the newly retired. Most of them are in their 80’s and 90’s and they are as spry as can be. I’m hoping that by teaching this class, a bit of their well-aged spunk will stick with me when I’m (God-willing) their age.
One of these students came up to me last week with a question.
“I’ve got a bit of a nagging injury,” Muriel said to me.
“Okay. What’s that?” I asked, assuming it was something that is common with arthritis or something similar.
“Well, my upper arm around my shoulder area has been hurting for the last few days.”
“Did you sleep on it funny or hit it on something recently.”
“Well, I started playing ping-pong at this place just down the street a little while ago and I’m really getting into it. I’ve played every afternoon for the last week and I think I may have overdone it.”
I had to laugh at myself. Here I was thinking she had some symptom of aging and it’s actually a sports-related injury. I should have known better with this group of active seniors. Muriel is especially effusive about my class. A few weeks ago, she let me know that the meditation portion of the class has been transformational for her.
“I cannot believe how easily peace settles into me now when I’m meditating. I’ve never felt this peaceful in my entire life, and I’ve been alive a long time. I wish I had known about this earlier!”
I was very proud of Muriel and her sore muscles. “Muriel, this is wonderful. This means you’re building strength in your arms, just like when you go to the gym!”
“I’m actually very excited about this ping-pong. It’s so good for me. Check this out,” she said as she flexed her biceps and asked me to feel them. There was a definitive muscle there. “Can you believe it? First time in my life I’ve ever had muscles in my arms. It took me this long to build them!”
I gave her the advice to alternate ice and heat and give herself a bit more rest to heal her shoulder.
“Do you play ping-pong, Christa?”
In truth the only version of ping-pong I’ve ever played is beer pong. “No, I’ve never played proper ping-pong before,” I replied.
“Well, we will have to play some time. I can teach you. When I come to class next week, we’ll set a date and time. This will be marvelous! But we’ll have to get there early in the afternoon when they open. Otherwise, there’s a crowd. And don’t worry, we can play downstairs where it’s less crowded so you won’t feel self-conscious as a newbie.”
And with that, Muriel got her coat and made her way outside into the big, bad world. I thought about Muriel all afternoon and the deep, beautiful lesson she taught me during our conversation.
At every age, there are new experiences waiting for us. Too often, we think old age equates with decline. For my seniors, this couldn’t be further from the truth. They’re bringing newness into their lives all the time – whether that’s through taking a yoga class or building biceps at 90-something years old.
Golden years can certainly be golden. It’s all a matter of perspective, attitude, and the courage it takes to try something new.
Last night I went to ISHTA Yoga for the first time since Hurricane Sandy hit. I deeply missed my yoga home and being away from it made me realize how important it is for me as a staple in my life. We are so lucky that the studio didn’t incur any damage other than loss of power.
On my way to the studio, I was conscious of how tight and uncomfortable I was. This week I had two interviews for new freelance work that went very well though the preparation days leading up to them left me surprisingly stressed. They are both wonderful jobs and I’m eager to work with these mission-driven organizations. The roles are highly creative and dovetail perfectly with my passion for education.
While I was preparing for these interviews, I also spent a fair amount of my energy getting my head around the difficulties being faced by so many of my fellow New Yorkers in the wake of Hurricane Sandy. It’s as if we are living in two parallel worlds. One in which life is perfectly fine and proceeding as normal, and 5 miles away one that has descended into complete chaos with leveled homes, unbelievable loss of life and valuables, no power, no running water, and no heat. And all of this on the eve of another storm heading our way that may bring us our first dusting of snow and 60 mile per hour winds.
As I settled down onto my mat, I was considering how best to care for an open heart, how to be with people in times of distress without inheriting that stress. It is difficult but it can be done. And the trick is in our roots.
As my teacher, Douglass Stewart, walked into the room and began to talk us through our class. I felt myself release down into the mat, down into the Earth. What I’ve been missing in these past few days is the stability of grounding. Douglass, who always seem to know the perfect thing to say at every moment, asked us to firmly plant ourselves down, through our feet and hands, to feel that the Earth below us is stable and supportive. He asked us to recognize that the further we sink our roots, the higher we can fly. I felt that sentiment so strongly that my eyes began to fill up. That was my missing link.
When we feel like the wind is whipping us around, when we feel like everything around us is swirling at breakneck speed, it’s the ability to root down, to find that which gives us stability and strength, that helps us to rise. I am so grateful to ISHTA for being a part of that which helps me feel rooted so that I can be free and available to be of service, particularly in times of difficulty.
Keep breathing, New York. We’ll get through this together.
Finding our true north is about deciding what matters.
Next week will mark 5 months since I left my corporate job to start Chasing Down the Muse, my own consulting and teaching practice. I did this for many reasons though there is one reason that stands head and shoulders above the others: I wanted to work on projects that matter to me. I care deeply about education (defined broadly as cultivating the imagination by stoking our creative fire with inspiration and information), healthcare (defined broadly as helping all people attain their maximum level of wellness), and strengthening entrepreneurship / small business.
I was working a corporate job in financial services. It didn’t add up. This is not to say that I think financial services is a terrible place to spend a career. On the contrary, I am grateful that I spent time in this industry because it helped me to understand the mechanics of our economy during an unprecedented crisis. It just wasn’t right for me anymore in this capacity. So, I left in an attempt to find a better path with a safety net that consists only of my savings account and my passion to live an authentic life.
Planning to leave wasn’t easy. I had a cushy gig with nice people (many of whom I am honored to have as friends), regular work hours, a healthy paycheck, and a solid benefits package. It was a lot to walk away from but I’ve never looked back. These benefits paled in comparison to the possibility of doing the work I am meant to do, the work I am called to do.
I should have been scared. On paper this looks like an extraordinarily naive decision made by a wide-eyed twenty-something, not a thirty-, on the verge of forty-something, who’s been around the block a number of times. But here I am, 5 months later and resolute in the fact that given the chance I would absolutely do it all over again and perhaps sooner.
There isn’t a single day when I say to myself “I really should have stayed where I was.” Even when it’s hard, even when I haven’t had things work out as I planned or expected, I continue to feel motivated and inspired by possibility and opportunity. I’m always confident that something I really wanted doesn’t work out because room had to be made for something I have not yet even dreamed of.
To chart a new course, to step off the ledge, requires the belief in our ability to fly even if we have never taken flight before. Certainly, it requires equal amounts of conviction and lunacy because there is no proof, evidence, or guarantee of success. We make these kinds of decisions based on guts and faith.
You might think this is a recipe for anxiety but it’s exactly the opposite. Somehow, I am now calmer, clearer, and more relaxed than I’ve ever been. It’s the greatest feeling in the world to be free, happy, healthy, and fulfilled. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t feel like the luckiest, most blessed, grateful person on the planet. To somehow repay the world for this incredible opportunity, I put these thoughts down on paper in the hopes that they help you find your own true north.
Never, ever doubt that your wildest, most wonderful dreams are not only possible, but also probable, if you set out to find them.
My friend, Amanda, recently posted this photo on her Facebook wall. I can’t think of a better piece of life advice than this. I printed it out and hung it at my desk, right next to Amanda’s quote that reads “We who are committed to living authentic lives need to cheer each other on….”
Consider this post my way to pay forward Amanda’s advice. Close your eyes. Hear that distant roar? It’s the sound of me cheering you on along your own joyful journey. It’s the wild and wonderful call to your spirit saying, “You can do this! Don’t delay. Don’t back down. Don’t give up. THIS is your moment.”
I’ve recently been faced with a few career decisions. I’ve had some opportunities crop up that are tantalizing with a side of “I’m not sure this is really the right choice for me right now.” To be clear, they are really wonderful options – good pay, interesting work, nice people. But in each there is a key ingredient that makes me think I should pass. Either the flexibility in schedule isn’t there or the work doesn’t feel like the best use of my time.
These decisions feel like the textbook definition of “the fork in the road.” It would be easy on some level to take these jobs and I’d be good at them. Here’s the morbid, though quite helpful, question I keep coming back to: what if this is it? Post-Sandy, we’re hearing about people who lost their lives despite following all directions and making good decisions. This grim idea gives me pause. I’m not any different from these people. That could have been me, and perhaps a bit too easily.
These are the tough questions, ones that don’t have any right or wrong answers. Isn’t it now, on the tail end of youth prior to solidly moving into middle age, that I can really take every chance to firmly commit to joy in my work? And isn’t that the choice that could have an expiration date? Down the line, won’t there be some job that I could do that feels a bit less like joy and a bit more like selling out that I could take if I really needed to?
This is the hero’s journey and I am in the midst of the “challenges and temptations” portion of the trip. This is where the rubber meets the road. This is where character is formed and tested. Revelation and transformation lie in wait just around the bend. And it is not easy.
Christa Avampato 