creativity

How to directly help the people of Ukraine stay alive

Christa Avampato
Photo by Max Kukurudziak on Unsplash

Today is my 14th Alive Day, and to mark it I’m directly helping people in Ukraine stay alive. (At the end of this post, I tell the story of my Alive Day at the end of this post for those who didn’t know me 14 years ago.)

My friend and Cambridge classmate, Iuliia Takhtarova, is from Ukraine and raising money to buy tourniquets for her fellow Ukrainians as they head to the frontlines of the war to fight for their country. All this money will be used to directly help them. Tourniquets save lives. I made a donation and I hope you will, too. 

A talented public speaker who’s curated over 150 TEDx speeches by NGO and business leaders, ambassadors, and government officials, Iuliia will provide a 45-minute individual session on impact-driven pitches and presentations to every donor who makes a $60+donation (the price of 2 high-quality tourniquets from a repurtable supplier). She will also provide all donors of any size with a detailed update on the impact of their gift. She has set up a Paypal account specifically for this fundraiser: takhtarovajulia@gmail.com. You can find more information about the fundraiser on her LinkedIn post: Iuliia’s fundraiser for Ukraine tourniquets. 

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A bit more about my Alive Day for those who have never heard the story:

Though I have never been in a war, I know what it feels like to lose a home. 14 years ago on this day I had to run for my life away from flames and into the terrifying void that followed. My neighbor accidentally set fire to her gas stove. Rather than turn off the gas, she ran out of the building and the rest of the building caught fire. I was home, just out of the shower, and went into the kitchen where I heard the radiator ticking on a very hot day. A closer look and I realized the tiles on my kitchen floor were heaving up and down. I grabbed my keys and went downstairs to see what was going on.

Seconds later I was surrounded by thick, black, noxious smoke. I had no idea where the smoke was coming from but I knew I had to get out of that building if I wanted to stay alive. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face and I ran for my life down 4 flights of stairs. At one point, I was flying so quickly that I felt as if I was being carried.

Out on the sidewalk, I was covered in soot and shaking as I stared at my building. Flames shot out of every window as the New York City fire truck sirens blared. Later I would learn that I was seconds away from running right into the flames when the fire in my neighbor’s apartment got so hot that the front door fell off its hinges and the entire hallway was engulfed in flames.

I was lucky to be alive, and the trauma from losing almost all my belongings, my home, and nearly my life started me on a difficult years-long mental health journey as I reckoned with an entire lifetime of trauma and unrelenting PTSD. It got so unbearable at one point that I considered jumping from the roof of my new apartment building months later. When PTSD has you in its clutches, life feels hopeless. I found hope in writing and in nature, but I still needed professional help.

I was lucky to get years of therapy with Brian, my incredible therapist who remains a blessing in my life today. He led me through the darkness and for the first time in my life, into the light. This experience is why I’m such an enormous advocate for mental health, and why today I don’t take a moment of life for granted. I know how chancey it can be. We have to help each other along the road in any and every way we can.

A much longer version of my Alive Day story with more details about how writing became my lifeline is at https://itstartsatmidnight.com/2017/10/shatteringstigmas-guest-post-writing-frees-us-free-others/.

creativity

Stories of climate change teach us that we are each other’s tomorrow

Christa Avampato
Photo by Tania Malréchauffé on Unsplash

This morning’s joyful find—THIS is the style of academic writing I’m here for! I’m reading through an academic paper about climate change communications that quotes one of my storytelling queens, the great author Ursula Le Guin. I nearly fell out of my chair with happiness!

Paraphrasing, it says we need to lay aside stories of the one hero versus one villain and begin to tell what Ursula Le Guin in “Dancing at the Edge of the World” called “the carrier bag narrative”: collecting stories to construct transformative narratives to help us find the strength to “stay with the trouble” so that we can change and inspire change in others. Stories transform our world by affording us the chance to co-construct our shared future.

We are all in this narrative of climate change, though our personal stories of its impact are not the same. Following Le Guin’s counsel, we need to tell our stories and also listen to the stories of others to construct the narrative system of climate change. There are many voices, many perspectives, and many outcomes, simultaneously being told and lived. They are all valid. They all play a part. It is therefore our responsibility to not just make ourselves heard and understood, but also to make sure others have the opportunity to do the same.

This isn’t about getting and taking what we think is ours. It’s about the idea of being the Mother Tree in the forest, making sure that each individual in the system has what they need to grow and thrive. We are all made better when each of us is well.

creativity

When writing feels like play

Christa Avampato
Photo by Nick Morrison on Unsplash

Even though it’s Labor Day weekend, I’m laboring away at the outline for my University of Cambridge dissertation with the goal of having a single page of my literature review written and edited by the end of the day.

The weird and wonderful part of the work at this point is that it doesn’t feel like work at all, but play. Like a set of LEGO blocks, I’m linking the information and data to support the story, synthesizing everything I’ve learned after all this reading and note taking into a cohesive, communicable form that helps people and the planet.

I’m sure there will be rough spots along the way where I get jammed up on the journey. I’ve a long way to go over the next year. But for now, I’m excited to begin writing and using prose for purpose. Happy days.

creativity

The possibility of September

Christa Avampato
Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash

Sweet September. Let this be a month to remember, when we dug deeper, rose higher, and found a way forward. And if we find that there is no way, then let’s build the courage, commitment, and community to make one. There is so much in our world, and often in ourselves, to revitalize, regenerate, and renew.

I see September as my new year, a time when what is worn falls away so that new seeds for new beginnings can be planted. Not all of them will take root. Some relationships will fizzle. Some tasks, or even whole jobs and vocations, will no longer hold our attention. The place we have called home may feel less like one.

When this happens, there’s a bit of mourning, maybe even some regrets. The wouldas, couldas, and shouldas will start making themselves known and heard. It’s okay to have a listen, and then decide what lessons we’ll take with us into the next harvest. Sime of the seeds to planted with begin to reach for the light. Those are the ones that deserve our attention.

In time, we’ll find our rhythm again. We’ll meet someone new or see someone we’ve known in a new light. We’ll discover or rediscover the work that lights us up. We may even find that home is not a place at all, but a feeling, a sense of self we can take with us anywhere and everywhere we go.

This September I hope our lives are filled with love and joy and peace, and that we will find all the ways to make it so for ourselves and others. Happy weekend.

creativity

Fun and play are a part of work

Christa Avampato
Photo by LI FEI on Unsplash

For my University of Cambridge dissertation, I’ve been thinking about ways to bring my passion for biomimicry into the research without causing my own scope creep. Now deep into my literature review reading, I found a way to not only avoid scope creep but to use biomimicry and my intense love for nature-based solutions as a way to focus my dissertation. I’m so firmly planted in my happy place now that the hours of work fly by until my sweet old dog toddles over to my desk to tell me it’s time to go out for a walk.

Charles Darwin, legendary naturalist and Cambridge alum, is one of my fun at work icons. He wrote tens of thousands of personal letters over the course of his lifetime. (A collection of the 15,000 that have been found to-date are accessible in the University of Cambridge’s collections). What those letters communicate that his formal academic writing does not show is that his work was so much fun for him that it felt more like play. If Darwin can have fun while doing his research, then I can, too.

So whatever you’re doing today from wherever you are in the world, I hope you’re having fun and that your work lights you up in a way that also lightens your spirit. It’s not too much to ask.

I’ve had moments in my career when my work felt like drudgery. I’m really glad and grateful that I made the changes to change that. It wasn’t easy but for me it was worth it.

creativity

Enric Sala’s passion and advocacy for the ocean

Christa Avampato
Enric Sala, NationalGeographic Explorer in Residence and Pristine Seas Founder, is seen exploring the reefs in Palau. Manu San Félix — National Geographic Pristine Seas

Enric Sala is having a moment, and I hope it never ends. His passion for and commitment to the oceans inspires me. In addition to the gorgeous cover story of TIME this week about his work and explorations, the feature on 60 Minutes about his sperm whale research in Dominica’s Nature Island is a must-view. 

The stunning footage of these sperm whales instills a deep love and respect for these animals and the ecosystems they inhabit. To see these gentle giants is a spiritual experience. You can’t help but be in awe of their language and beauty. They have the largest known brains to ever exist, upwards of five times the size of a human brain.

“I left academia because one day I realized I was writing the obituary of the ocean,” said Sala. Now with his organization Pristine Seas, he’s offering the cure to heal the ocean, the only cure that has been proven to work: the creation of marine protected areas where all damaging human impacts are illegal and banned.

Oceans underpin our ways of life, our health, and the world economy. The science is proven. We know how to protect and regenerate healthy oceans—leave them alone. Do we have the will to do it? Once we see a sperm whale and all their majesty, how could we not?

creativity

My dream plan for summer 2024

Christa Avampato

As the sun begins to set on summer, I’m speaking plans for next summer into existence. I’ll be at University of Cambridge for my final Masters in Sustainability Leadership residency in early July 2024. I’d like to go a bit early to check out beautiful Brighton. Then after my residency, I would stay on in Cambridge to work remotely and finish my dissertation. After I turn it in at the end of July, I’d like to spend August in Scotland for the Edinburgh Fringe and Book Festivals. My dream summer 2024.💗

What are you dreaming of for next summer?

creativity

Life lessons from my house plants

Christa Avampato

I’m a bit ashamed about something: though I grew up on a farm, I’ve been unable to keep house plants alive. Until now! After moving in June to a new apartment with loads of natural light and a steady breeze, my house plants are thriving, sprouting new shoots, and happily reaching up and out. I literally danced around and clapped my hands at this new life growing on my windowsill this morning. What an incredible metaphor for life.

In the words of Taylor Swift, with plants, I always thought, “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.” Turns out it was the environment the plants and I were in that needed to change. Sometimes, a change of scene is the key to a change of self.

I love new beginnings of all shapes and sizes—new jobs and projects, new adventures and travels, new relationships, new friendships. Even something small like these new shoots from my plants and learning to care for them, starting a new book, or walking through a part of town I’ve not been to in a while (or ever, as I’m learning with my new home in Brooklyn!) gives me a whole new lease on life. There’s energy and inspiration in the new. A beginner’s mindset is a wondrous thing.

To help my plants thrive, I let them tell me what they needed. Water. Lots of light and fresh air. Some music. Room to grow, change, and evolve. We’re not so different.

Perhaps the most important bit I’m thinking of today while looking at my plants is that new growth needs extra support. “The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends,” as Brad Bird wrote. I don’t know what it is about that new that’s so threatening that some will try their best to stamp it out. I’m always happy to befriend and learn from the new. We need the new now more than ever. In a world where we can be anything, let’s be kind, particularly to those just starting a new journey and especially the natural world. We need each other.

creativity

At Brooklyn’s Green-Wood Cemetery, the circle of life continues

Christa Avampato

Brooklyn’s Green-Wood Cemetery is much more than a final resting place for over 600,000 people. It’s also an arboretum, wildlife sanctuary, and a community resource to mitigate climate change where life and death exist side-by-side. A 30-minute walk from my apartment, it’s a place I visit often as I get to know my new borough.

With 478 acres, Green-Wood is home to over 7,000 trees from 690 different species, 216 species of birds (including the Argentinian monk parrots who make their home in the architecture of the entrance gates!), and dozens of species of mammals, fungi, and insects, especially pollinators thanks to their beehives and wildflower meadows. Each new planting is selected for its climate adaptiveness, wildlife value, enhancement of the beauty of the landscape, and resilience. Every year Green-Wood’s living collection is responsible for sequestering 264,000 lbs. of carbon dioxide, removing 12,000 lbs. of pollution from the air we breathe, and mitigating 2,620,000 gallons of stormwater from overwhelming Brooklyn’s sewage system.

Founded in 1838, Green-Wood was Brooklyn’s first public park during a period of rapid urbanization. It became so popular, that it inspired the competition to build both Central Park in Manhattan and nearby Prospect Park in Brooklyn. Olmsted and Vaux won both competitions and designed both parks. After designing Central Park, they said that “Prospect Park is everything we wanted Central Park to be.” How very Brooklyn of them!

Green-Wood is also filled with gorgeous art. Inside the chapel, there’s currently a beautiful art installation paying homage to the stories of lesser known souls who are buried on its grounds. I’ve been to classical music concerts inside the crypt, whiskey tastings on its many sprawling lawns, and a Halloween Party that felt like a New Orleans carnival. It is one of the city’s treasures. No wonder it attracts over 500,000 visitors every year.

I love cemeteries and seek them out when I travel. If you find yourself in New York and want to get a sense of our history, ecology, culture, Green-Wood should be high on your list.

All photos below were taken by me at Green-Wood. You’re welcome to use them as long as they are attributed to me. Thank you.

creativity

Mitigation and adaptation: How to prepare and protect our natural world in the age of climate change

Christa Avampato
Photo by Mike Newbry on Unsplash

My eyes started to fill up watching the footage from Maui, Hawaii. I’ve struggled to put my emotions into words as I poured over the coverage. Nearly 14 years to the day, I lost almost everything, including my life, to an apartment building fire on the Upper West Side of New York City. I know the fear of running for my life, away from flames and into the emptiness of the aftermath. The smell of that noxious smoke is still in my nose and memory. I think it always will be.

I wish I could be in Maui to help. Whether using my logistics and operations experience to get survivors supplies and basic needs, or just being there to comfort people knowing exactly how they feel to have lost everything, I can’t help but think that my life and career could be of use in the midst of this horrible tragedy.

Already Maui’s fires are prompting conversations in the sustainability community. When we talk about sustainability solutions, we look at mitigation (halting and reversing climate change and its impacts) and adaptation (preparing ourselves for the impacts of a warming world on our lives). Now in my second year at University of Cambridge studying sustainability, I’m beginning to formulate my career plans for what comes next. I’m using this mitigation and adaptation split as a frame for my future work:

  • What can I do to preserve the natural world we have now and rewild, restore, renew, and regenerate what’s been lost?
  • What can I do to prevent the devastation that will continue, and worsen, because of climate change so we protect lives and natural areas?
  • Can I do both, or do I have to choose where I think I can be the most value?

My Cambridge dissertation involves securing funding from the wealthiest people in the world to fill the climate finance gap. One thing I’ll test is which of these strategic objectives, mitigation or adaptation, resonates most with these funders. Maybe they’ll also see the value in both. I suspect this research will help me figure out where I fit into the puzzle, and how my skills can best be utilized as we begin the fight for and battle of our lives. I’m ready to take the journey, wherever it leads.