dreams

My Year of Hopefulness – Empty Moments and Shark Jumping

Christa Avampato

“What do you think is better: the store brand or Breyer’s?” And so began a conversation at my local Whole Foods this week. Breyer’s ice cream and the Whole Foods brand ice cream were the same price. Recognizing that clearly I am an ice cream connoisseur and that I know my stuff when it comes to the delicious frozen treat, a fellow customer was asking me for my opinion. Even for me, this questions was a toss up. I went for the Breyer’s – it had a nicer picture and I could see the black flecks of the vanilla bean in the photo. (For the record, I’ve never tried the Whole Foods brand, and it well may be much better. I’ll try it when I’m next in the store!)

This got me thinking about what names stand for, and how important authenticity is. A lot of people believe we need to strive for authenticity. Brian, my therapist, adamantly disagrees. This week I was telling him about some big steps I have taken in my life recently and how easy they were to do when I just got out of my own way. “That’s because the authentic self wants to come through and the only thing stopping her is you,” he said to me. I can’t argue with that – being authentic is so much easier than trying to be someone else, whether you’re a human being or ice cream. Authenticity is easy; being comfortable with personal authenticity is the tough piece because is demands that we stand up, make our case for who we are when every piece of veneer falls away, and then asks us to support that authentic self, lovely or not.

My friend Anthony opened my eyes this week to the concept of “jumping the shark”. When a TV series has run too long, and loses its way, those in the biz call that “jumping the shark”. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jumping_the_shark). Jumping the shark occurs at that point where a hit show gets away from what made it a hit in the first place and takes a turn for the worst. This idea made me consider how tough it is to stay authentic and be successful because we have this idea of what success looks and smells like. It’s too easy to let others define us, and before we know it we have to live up to some high ideal we didn’t create and don’t even want. Instead of just being Breyer’s, we now have to be Breyer’s and compete with Whole Foods. Instead of following my dreams and speaking my mind, I need to conform to an accepted ideal in every area of my life. Or do I?

This is the tough part – knowing when to walk away. When do we get off the circus train? When do we decide that being ourselves is much more important, and also more gratifying, than trying to be anything or anyone else? The truth is that we can get there so long as we discover what it means to be who we are when everything else falls away. Who are we in the empty moments?

discovery, education

My Year of Hopefulness – You and Me Against a 50% Graduation Rate

Christa Avampato

“None of this was beyond my potential. It was just beyond my reach” ~ 13 year old apprentice in a Citizen Schools after-school program

Today I had the great good fortune to hear John Payton, President of the Legal Defense Fund, speak. Long considered one of the finest practicing attorneys, particularly in the field of Civil Rights, Mr. Payton exhibited passion and grace when articulating the complicated issue of racism in America, and its tragic legacy. He helped me to see that we the people, all of us, have to get involved in this issue, regardless of our race, because it is plaguing our society to such a degree that it is tough to see a way through.

The statistics that Mr. Payton discussed are the same we see everyday on the front of every newspaper across the country. And they’re horrifying:

– 86% of black 4th graders read below grade level
– Black men make up 41% of prison inmates while only 4% of all higher education students are black men. 1:3 black men will spend a portion of their life in prison
– 30% of children in poor elementary schools, mostly blacks and Latinos, have a vision problem that could easily be corrected with glasses if they had access to an eye doctor. They have insurance through Medicaid, but no access to care. Because of poor vision, they are labeled as “slow learners”
– 50% of black students in New York City drop-put before graduation. In Columbus, Ohio, 60% drop-out and in Baltimore 65% drop-out

And the list of sickening statistics goes on and on to the point that we almost grow numb to the numbers. They are too big, too awful to fathom. So we move to the suburbs. The problem becomes so unnerving that we can’t look it in the eyes anymore. It seems like there’s nothing we can do.

Except that there is something you and I can do. It would be easy, at least in the short-term, to just go back to our little desks in our little cubicles and work away trying to keep our jobs so that we can feed and clothe and house ourselves and our loved ones. Sometimes it seems that this is all we have the energy for, and yet if we don’t do more than we think we can do, these statistics as bad as they are will only get worse. And we can’t afford worse.

So here’s what gave me hope today in the wake of Mr. Payton’s talk: Citizen Schools. Last night I went to the Google offices here in New York. 250 concerned committed adults gathered to talk to four groups of middle school students who learned how to write code to create video games, cell phone applications, and artificial intelligence. 6th, 7th, and 8th graders, with the help of many dedicated Googlers extended their reach far beyond what they thought was possible.

Lennon, a very poised 7th grade student, took the podium to open up the evening. He talked about how Citizen Schools helped him gain confidence and improved his grades. He learned how to make friends and collaborate with others on a project. For the first time, he realized how his studies apply to life and he’s started to think about a career. Dedicated individuals, just like you and me, shared what they know to help these kids like Lennon get another chance to better their own lives.

Turning around these statistics won’t be easy and it will take a long time. It will require great faith in ourselves, our talents, and our ability to make a difference. We can do this, together. 10 kids at a time, one program at a time. A drop in the bucket? Certainly. But consider this – by participating with Citizen Schools, we have the opportunity to save, literally save, 10 lives from becoming part of those scary statistics that John Payton discussed today. How much would you give to save 10 lives? You can start by giving 2 hours a week for 10 weeks through Citizen Schools. To get involved, please visit http://www.citizenschools.org/

courage, dreams, personality, psychology, relationships, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Moments that Made My Life

Christa Avampato

My friend, Josh, over at World’s Strongest Librarian wrote a post that is so beautiful and profound that I had to share it here. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all day. He talked about the defining moments of his life in terms of when they happened, how he felt about them, and what they meant to him. It’s a form that I love so much that I created my own snapshots of when. So many thanks to Josh for inspiring my writing and my life. Here goes…

When I first saw my niece, I realized why it was so important to have children in our lives.

When my heart broke, I realized that it didn’t take as long to heal and love again as I thought it would.

When he passed away, I didn’t feel as relieved as I thought I would – it was then that I started down the very long path to forgiveness.

When I crossed that finish line, realizing a dream years in the making, I was more grateful for the strength of my body than ever before.

When I decided to keep loving through the hurt, I realized that on the other side there was more love.

When I graduated, I knew at that moment that I could do anything I set my mind to.

When I looked out at the wild surf of South Africa, I realized that I had traveled very far from home and still felt like I belonged.

When I stood in front of a classroom for the first time, I had much more to offer than I ever expected.

When I chased a dream as far as I could and it still wasn’t enough to make it real, I was amazed at my resilience to just get a new dream.

When I said a final good-bye to my dear and faithful friend, I found that not everything or everyone is replaceable. Some parts of our lives and hearts can never be reclaimed, and that’s okay.

When I first put my writing out into the world for everyone to see, I found that there was a lot more support for my ideas that I ever knew and much of that support came from people I didn’t even know.

When the curtain came down and I heard the applause, I knew I had been part of something much greater than myself.

When I almost didn’t get a tomorrow, I understood how precious every moment is and that dreams can’t wait.

When I lost almost all of my belongings, I found that I didn’t really need any of them to survive and thrive and for the first time in my life I felt truly free.

When I found the courage to tell my own story, I discovered that I had the ability to inspire the same courage in others.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.
education, game, learning, student

My Year of Hopefulness – Playing Games

Christa Avampato

I woke up this morning to rainy skies and a little knot in my stomach. This is the week that I begin my verbal review for the GRE, and I’m having some anxiety over it. My friend, Allan, made me stop beating myself up over my seemingly large deficiency in vocabulary. Honestly, I don’t recognize half of the words on the GRE as English. Allan clued me in to the fact that no one recognizes these words as English because no one actually ever uses them. I felt mildly better. No matter – they’re showing up on the test, and I have to learn them.

When I was little, I used to play the dictionary game with my mom. I’d open the dictionary to any word, and she would give the definition of the word. I never, ever stumped her. She knew every word, no matter how archaic it was. I couldn’t understand it. How did she know all of these words? And how come I didn’t know any of them? Why do I still feel like I don’t know any of them now?

Begrudgingly, I went to my 3 inch thick GRE prep book, and started making my flashcards with a heavy heart. And then I decided I had better get with it. I had better make a game out of this or I am doomed to not do well. And I can’t afford a low score. I just can’t – PhD programs are competitive and every piece of an application counts.

The GRE book is full of helpful hints, and as I learned each hint I saw puzzle pieces falling into place. Now I know how my mom could figure out all of those words. She took many years of Latin, requiring her to learn a variety of roots, suffixes, and prefixes. Our language is largely made of little pieces that are recombined again and again in different ways. For example, “mal-” means bad, so words beginning with “mal-” likely have a negative meaning. It also means bad in Spanish, so knowing a foreign language helps enormously when deciphering new vocabulary words because English is largely a language of other languages. My mother speaks French and Latin, so it’s no wonder the size of her English vocabulary is through the roof!

As my GRE studying progressed, I found myself getting more and more excited about it. I found myself finally, finally understanding pieces of our language I never knew before. Studying for the GRE isn’t just to gain entrance to a program; it’s actually beneficial for my life and for my writing. Now when I read, I have an eye on roots and suffixes and prefixes. I see arguments being pieced together with new insights that I never saw before. I see polygons and parallel lines and acute and obtuse angles everywhere I turn. The basis of the GRE is all around us. And while I’ve seen all of these things before, I’m now noticing them with new eyes and a new found curiosity.

My learning took a great leap forward today. It’s so easy, and more than a little tempting, to get lost in our books and studies. The real power of our studies is when we can pick our eyes up from our books, look out into the world, and see that opportunities for learning, and application of our learning, is all around us. Or better yet, our learning helps us to see what could be out in the world, and gives us the tools and the resolve to go make it happen. Whoever said games were only for kids?

dreams, writing

Owning Pink Feature

Christa Avampato

I am so honored today to have my writing featured on Owning Pink at http://www.owningpink.com/2009/12/12/your-one-wild-and-precious-life/. I’m excited to see the response to the question: “What will you do with your one wild and precious life?”

art, story, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Writing Ourselves Free

Christa Avampato

“Words do not label things already there. Words are like the knife of a carver: They free the idea, the thing, from the general formlessness of the outside. As a man speaks, not only is his language in a state of birth, but also the very thing about which he is talking.” ~ Inuit Wisdom

Today I finished up the book The Soul of Money by Lynne Twist, and the Inuit quote above kicks off one of the last chapters. So many of her ideas about money helped me to reconsider the role of money in my life, both when I was very young and had no money and now when I have a well paying job. Her words helped me to see money as just another form of energy which we can utilize to shape the world around us. In her words I was able to make peace with finance, a difficult thing to do in our consumer-driven, debt-ridden culture.

Words are powerful tools not just for communicating ideas, but also to form them. So often I come to a blank screen on my computer, unsure of what I’ll write or where my writing will lead. Over time, I’ve learned to trust the process of writing the way that a carver trusts his knife. In my imagination there is always a story waiting to be told, similar to the figure that is within a slate of marble. The skill of the writer or artist releases the form.

I’m now weeks away from meeting my goal of writing about hope every day for a year. I started this journey as someone who felt let down by the world, someone who was worried about her future. Now that I have spent nearly 365 days actively seeking out what’s hopeful in our society, I am emerging from my quest with a confident, revitalized soul. I wrote myself free form the burden of worry.

So often we think a lack of commitments frees us. We give up relationships, jobs, materials goods, and tasks in pursuit of greater flexibility and freedom. And sometimes that works. Though before I give up anything or anyone, I remind myself of Willa Cather’s quote in O Pioneers! – “Freedom so often means that one isn’t needed anywhere.” I want my freedom to mean that I choose to do everything in my life, not that I am forced to do something which I don’t want to do. My writing frees me because it lets me express what I’m feeling, and gives me the opportunity to connect with others. I’ve found that my connections to others frees my own heart rather than binding it up.

I found my writing voice not by closing down and shutting off, but by opening up to the experiences of the world and making the commitment to come here to this blog every day and share those experiences. I became a better writer by committing to the craft. I think life is shockingly similar to writing in this way – we live it better by practicing, by stepping out and stepping up, by committing our heart to others and to the world around us. And as we do this, I hope we’ll all take some time and write it all down. Having the courage to tell others our own stories ironically frees them to do the same.

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

books, speaking

My Year of Hopefulness – Teaching butterflies to fall in line

Christa Avampato

“The best speakers know enough to be scared…the only difference between the pros and novices is that the pros have trained the butterflies to fly in formation.” ~ Edward R. Murrow

I have a little secret – all my life I have had a terrible battle with stage fright. Job interviews, first dates, meeting new friends, first day of class. Any new experience with new people has me quaking in my boots for weeks beforehand. I combat this with a brave face and decent acting skills, but it’s painful. In college, I lost 10 pounds in a week preparing for the play, Agnes of God. I kept getting sick right before every rehearsal and then right before every show. I have a hard time watching debates on TV because I get sympathy stage fright!

This weekend I read the book Confessions of a Public Speaker by Scott Berkun. The book is riotously funny and Berkun is an endearingly honest writer. He makes no bones about the knocks he gets for his profession, and yet his humor brings about such a sense of respect and admiration for what he does day in and day out to earn a living.

The quote by Edward R. Murrow is one of my favorites that Berkun uses, and the chapter of the book that follows this quote is better yet. Berkun lists the top 14 fears people indicated in a recent survey. Speaking before a group was the greatest fear people had. Death was #7, loneliness was #9, and escalators was #14. Crazy when we consider that for the most part we can avoid speaking in public, and we can’t avoid things like, oh, death. We’re most afraid of something we can control. What does that say about us?

Recognizing the ludicrous ranking, Berkun goes on to talk about his own fear of public speaking, and the fear of speaking publicly that many of the world’s notable speakers have (Bono, Elvis, JFK, and Barbara Walters to name just a few.) The trick isn’t eradicating the fear; it’s figuring out how to use it to our best advantage that counts. Get the butterflies to fall in line. For me, my fear is best used to teach and my defense is to prepare, prepare, prepare. And if you’re thinking about that ol’ “imagine everyone in their underwear” trick, Berkun will give you his perspective on why that is a very, very bad idea.

In Confessions of a Public Speaker, I realized that the fear of public speaking is really about being afraid we just aren’t enough. Essentially, public speakers of every variety stand up there and put themselves in the perfect position to be knocked down and dragged by the hair to the back of the room. They tell themselves “what if I’m not good enough, smart enough, or entertaining enough?” The fear of public speaking is really the fear of not being accepted for who we are.

Later on in the book, Berkun discusses the reasons people go to hear public speakers, including the desire to learn something, be inspired, and have a positive experience they can share with others. Simple reasons really, and when looked at through the lens of “give the people what they want”, the butterflies begin to work together to create one gorgeous pattern, each lending their own unique flair. For the many of us who suffer from stage fright, I’m convinced that Berkun is on to something here.

children, Christmas, curiosity, holiday

My Year of Hopefulness – Sense of Wonder

Christa Avampato

This morning as I flipped through the latest copy of Fast Company on my way to work, I came across a short article featuring Nicole Lazzaro, a passionate game developer and the designer of Tilt, the first iPhone accelerometer game. She talked about the phenomenon of mobile gaming as having “a lot of curiosity, wonder, and surprise, which is very powerful because wonder is a hard emotion for adults to feel.” That statement hit me like a ton of bricks. I then walked into a Starbucks and saw a sign by the cream and sugar area that read something akin to “I wish that adults could dream like children.” Coincidence, or is the world giving me something to seriously think about?

Have we let the world make us so bitter that we lost our sense of wonder? If ever there was a time of year that we could, should, and must look around us in wonder, it’s Christmas time, a season of dreams, a season that is grounded in faith and belief, even in things that seem impossible. It is a time of miracles. Christmas always arrives just in time to rekindle my spirits and give me fresh hopes and dreams for the new year. Christmas keeps me going.

There are a few traditions I have, things I do that restore my sense of wonder every Christmas. I wanted to share them with you in case you need a bit more dreaming in your life. I’d love to hear yours, too!

1.) I always take a trip down to Rockefeller Center to see the tree. I like to go very late at night or very early in the morning when it’s dark out and there aren’t many people around. I stare at those lights until they go a little fuzzy and there’s a glow across the whole plaza. And then I soak up as much of that glow as possible and carry it with me wherever I go.

2.) When I first moved to New York 11 years ago, I wanted to figure out how to get a job dressing windows at Bergdorf Goodman. Maybe I’ve seen the movie Mannequin way too many times. There is something so magical about those windows. I’m always amazed that they can top themselves year over year. In 2010, I’m going to find a way to do something for one of those windows. I don’t care if it just means tearing up tiny bits of paper that a collage artist uses to make something magnificent – I just want to see the process of how it all comes together!

3.) I walk up to St. John the Divine and light a Christmas candle. I spend some time in the Cathedral mulling over the year that’s almost behind me and considering what I’d like to do in the year ahead. I ask God for some help and guidance, and I thank him for continuing to show up in my life in mysterious and surprising ways.

4.) A visit to Balducci’s is one of the single greatest memories from my childhood. I would wonder around the store with my sister, Weez, and brother, Joey, and we would take in all of those delicious scents. At Christmas time, the store reminds me of the wonderful heritage I come from.

5.) I make my end-of-year charitable donations: money, clothing, and food items. This simple act reminds me how lucky I am, and how much I can help others.

6.) Prime time TV is bursting with Christmas specials in December. I try to catch The Grinch and Charlie Brown’s Christmas at the very least while sipping hot cocoa and remembering how my family used to gather around the TV to watch those very same shows so many years ago. They hold special memories for me.

7.) Christmas concerts of all kinds are happening all over the city this month – I love to stop in to a few of them, especially if it’s permissible to sing along! You can also find me spending some amount of time each day in December cranking up Christmas tunes in my apartment and having a little dance party as I rock around my very tiny Christmas tree – Brenda Lee would be proud.

8.) About this time, the weather starts to turn a bit colder. As I get out my winter coat and bundle up, I stop to consider the miracle that here we are on the same planet, with the same sun, moon, and stars, and depending on a slight axis tilt one way or the other, we get a heat wave or a blizzard. Amazing.

9.) The Christmas markets in Columbus Circle and Union Square are some of my favorite places at Christmas time. I get a donut, a cup of apple cider, and browse around for a few unique gifts, all while pretending that I’ve stepped back in time when markets like these were the primary shopping destinations for gifts.

10.) Marking time is an ancient, sacred act. Before we know it, December 25th will have come and gone from our lives for another year. As I try to rush to get everything done in time for the big day, I remind myself that in every countdown is the embedded message that time is precious. And is there anything more full of wonder than the passing of time itself and our own ability to survive, adapt, and thrive in this ever-changing, challenging world?

Wishing you a season full of wonder-renewing moments!

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.

Christmas, gifts, happiness, holiday

My Year of Hopefulness – Treasure Hunting

Christa Avampato

Life is a treasure. The deeper you dig, the more you will find. You’ve got to get underneath, find out what brings about true joy, what opens our hearts, what inspires us to go further than we ever thought possible. In December I always feel compelled to keep on digging right through to the new year. The lights that fill New York’s streets at this time of year match the light I always find in my own life during the holidays.

December always seem to fly right by me. I blink and it’s New Years Eve. Maybe it’s the jobs I’ve had. Maybe it’s that I always seem to be in the middle of a personal project during this time. It could be the incessant countdown that seems to get faster with each passing day this month. Most likely, I think it’s the fact that time flies when we’re enjoying ourselves, and this is my very favorite time of year.

I always find that my sense of hope is renewed in December, too. My faith in the benefits of hard work, determination, and steadfast empathy is met with continual new opportunities for learning and personal growth this month. I often find myself skipping down the street, driven by an overwhelming sense of gratitude for my good fortune. In other words, it feels like Christmas.

This year, I’m making a pact with myself to seek out the treasures in my life, hold them up to the light, and give thanks for each of them in a way that I never have before. To spend as much time with friends and family as I possibly can. I’ll forgo a little more sleep than usual. I’ll take long walks, even though it’s cold outside, so I can soak up every bit of cheer I can find. I’ll sing and dance and groove to my favorite Christmas tunes. I’ll watch the specials on TV, bake cookies, trim a tree or two, and donate time and money to causes I care about. That’s my gift to myself this year: the treasure of joy, and as much of it as I can muster.