Tag: community

creativity

In 2025, I’m rebuilding

Christa Avampato
Photo by Mike Erskine on Unsplash

Each year I choose a word to live by. In 2024, my word was vulnerability. In 2025, my word is rebuild. To rebuild and do work with our whole heart is to be utterly vulnerable. The two go hand-in-hand. Our greatest work begins once we’re able to be completely vulnerable, giving voice to our deepest dreams knowing we may never reach them and trying anyway because it’s what we’re called to do.

I’ve been thinking about the Mary Oliver quote, “Listen, are you breathing a little and calling it a life?” Sometimes, I’ve done exactly that because I didn’t feel ready, or I was missing something I thought I needed to move forward. I have notebooks full of ideas and dreams that I want to get to “someday”. I’ve decided that someday is today, and this year I’m going to be open to all those words I’ve written for years taking shape. I don’t need more time, money, experience, or training. I need to give my dreams everything I’ve already got. Some will work out and some won’t, and that’s okay. I’ll be a better person for giving those dreams a fighting chance to become real.

2024 often felt like a dark season for me. Maybe it was for you, too. I tried to climb out of it and into the light until I was exhausted. So, I sat in the dark. It wasn’t comfortable but it was necessary. The darkness always has something to teach us, and this is what it taught me: we can only find our way out of the darkness and into the light if we journey together.

My 2025 will primarily be about building community, seeking out advice, trying something, iterating, and trying again, supporting others, and lifting them up as I rise. I’m most interested in being the most generous person in the room, the best listener, and the most collaborative partner. Our world needs so much love, kindness, and healing, and we have to be there for each other, especially when the going gets tough.

2024 taught me that progress isn’t permanent. It needs protection. 2025 will test our resolve, values, and strength. We’ll be called to have courage in the face of intense adversity. What’s on the line is bigger than any of us can face alone; we have to face it together. In 2025, you’ll find me rebuilding bridges and longer tables, publishing writing that ignites curiosity, wonder, and a sense of belonging, and creating spaces, products, and experiences that provide safety, comfort, and care for all beings. I hope you’ll join me for this adventure because I’d love to share it with you.

creativity

In 2024, I set out to be vulnerable

Christa Avampato
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Each year, I choose a word to live by. In 2024, my word was vulnerability. I admire vulnerable people and wanted to get better at it.

I knew Phineas, my soul dog, was nearing the end of his life. He was struggling physically and mentally. On January 28th, I helped him cross the rainbow bridge. It leveled me. I had a hard time recovering. The grief is so deep because the love is so great. I asked for and receive so much support during this time. I’ll never stop missing Phin; I’m just learning how to better carry the grief. In 2024, I supported more animal charities and had my first foster dog success story to honor his memory. 

My second Emerson Page novel was released in May 2024, and I’d decided to do my first-ever book launch party. That was scary! I had visions of being in a room alone and no one showing up. I’m grateful to every one of you who showed up and packed the event. It was even more special than I ever dared to hope for.

My dissertation for my Master’s in Sustainability Leadership at University of Cambridge was due on July 29th. I’d set myself an enormous task by choosing a topic I didn’t know anything about. I had no idea where or how I would get the data, and I’d never written a full piece of academic writing by myself. I wrote about how storytelling can be used by climate entrepreneurs to connect to family offices and enlist them as partners and investors. Even my advisor was unsure how I could get it done since I had no previous connection to family offices. 

I could’ve chosen an easier, safer, and more comfortable topic. I chose to do work that needed to be done to protect nature. I gave it everything I had, conducted 50 interviews, and built a new practical storytelling model for climate entrepreneurs to pitch themselves to family offices. I’m grateful to everyone who participated and supported me. This dissertation is a beginning, not an ending, and I’m excited to see where it will go in 2025.

After my dissertation, I dedicated myself to the presidential election, canvassing, and taking on social media, voter registration, phone banking, and text banking responsibilities. I’m continuing to learn to use policy to fight for the causes that matter to me.

I wanted to get better at having honest conversations and leave nothing unsaid. This was uncomfortable and difficult for me because I was taught early on to be a grin-and-bear-it kind of person. I’ve gotten very good at balancing radical candor and radical kindness.

I worked hard to prioritize joy, peace, and happier-ness. I spent more time in nature and looked after my health. I challenged myself to learn Italian and improve my Spanish. I spent a lot of time on my friendships and building community – the greatest gift.

2024 held some stumbles, mistakes, and disappointments. I kept showing up and leaned in to curiosity and wonder. I feel stronger and braver, physically and mentally, ready to put it all to good use in 2025.

creativity

Combating Parkinson’s with rock climbing

Christa Avampato
Photos from https://www.upendingparkinsons.org/

“It’s nice to be good at something again.” 

I haven’t been able to get this sentence out of my mind. It was said by a 37-year-old man who was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, a neurological disorder that has begun to impact his gross and fine motor skills. He was featured in a news story about Up ENDing Parkinsons, a nonprofit that’s created a nationwide rock climbing program for people with Parkinson’s disease. 

This man mentioned he can no longer do things that he used to take for granted — typing, for example. To see him scale a rock climbing wall at this gym, you’d never know he was struggling to move. The journalist told him this and he got choked up. 

“This means a lot to you,” said the journalist. 

He nodded his head, cleared his throat, and said, “It’s nice to be good at something again.”

Parkinson’s has robbed this man of so much at such a young age. This program has given him back some joy and a sense of pride in himself. The value of that can’t be overstated. 

This story was a reminder to me that we all want to feel we’re good at something. I hope we can all take the time to recognize and acknowledge when those around us are good at something. It takes only a small amount of time and effort on our part, and yet the impact for the person receiving this acknowledgement is enormous. We never know just how much someone may need to hear that. The world is a difficult place right now, and many people feel broken. Let’s do our best to help people feel whole again, and lift them up whenever we can. Feed the good.

creativity

Taking the lighted path one step at a time

Christa Avampato
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

I want to tell you a story about darkness and light. When I was diagnosed with cancer, and when almost died from cancer treatment (twice), it was often difficult to see beyond the darkness. I was standing in the crucible. At one point a lethal, unknown allergy to a chemo drug shattered my lungs and I was suffocating. We were deep in the pandemic in New York City before vaccines. The attending physician wanted to intubate me in the ICU, surrounded by COVID patients. At that time, being intubated was almost certainly a death sentence.

The ICU nurse insisted we try two more types of bedside respirators. “You have 10 minutes,” yelled the attending physician. “If her oxygen number doesn’t go up, I’m taking her to the ICU.” I had 10 minutes to save my life.

The nurse smiled at me. She tried the first machine. We waited. It didn’t work.

The nurse’s smile shrank. We tried the second machine. We waited. I looked at the ceiling. I called my ancestors. They were there. Not to intervene, only to catch me if it was my time to crossover. In that moment, all I wanted was my dog and the people I love. Love was all that mattered. Love was the secret to living, and it took possible death to teach me that.

I looked at the attending’s face. Her eyes grew wider. Her mouth fell open. I looked at the nurse; her smile had returned.

“Holy sh*t,” said the attending. 

My numbers were climbing. The attending left the room.

“I’ll be back to check on you throughout the night and we’ll be monitoring you from the desk just outside the door,” the nurse said as she placed the call button in my hand. “If you need anything, press this button.” 

I nodded. The nurse left the room. My ancestors smiled and walked back over a hill. 

“Not today, Death,” I thought. “Not today.”

When we’re deep in the darkness, we can only see our way forward if we raise our light and take one step at a time. Maybe that’s where you are right now. Things look dark. You can’t find a lamp. It turns out the light isn’t out there; it’s in you and the people around you. We are lights to each other. We can’t see the whole path, and that’s okay. Step by step, we’ll get there, together.

In the days ahead, I want you to hang on to that image of raising our light and being on the path together the way I hang on to what happened to me in 2020 in that hospital room when I was 10 minutes from death. Call your ancestors, friends, therapist, neighbors, religious leaders, and anyone in your community who is a light. We have a lot of challenges ahead to work on together and meeting them is going to take all of us being at our best. Take care of yourself now so we can take are of each other tomorrow. You got this, and I’ve got you. More tomorrow…

creativity

What a new health scare taught me about living

Christa Avampato
Photo of me in Prospect Park, Brooklyn.

This week, I had a short-lived health scare. A recent test came back with abnormal results. I was asymptomatic, as I was when diagnosed with cancer 4 years ago, so this threw me for a loop. It turned out to be a new side effect from my long-term meds that prevent cancer recurrence.

My doctor prescribed medication for a month to clear the inflammation and dietary changes to manage it since I have to stay on the meds causing this. It’s annoying. It’s also a relief that it was caught early and is reversible. I learned a lot with this recent scare. I’m leaning into these insights:

Slow down
I’m terrible at sitting still. Between the election in less than 2 weeks, climate change, and a myriad of other challenges in the world, there is a push to go go go. Do more, and faster. While this is true, it is also true that we have to rest. Take a walk. Eat well. Care for ourselves and others. Health is the greatest wealth. We are no good to anyone if we aren’t also good to ourselves. It’s not either or. It’s and.

Mortality
No matter how well we take care of ourselves, none of us will live forever. Time is our most precious resource, and we would do well to spend it on who, what, and where matters most to us.

Write
Around this time of year, I set my near-term priorities and creative focus. While writing is always a big part of my life, in 2025, it’ll be the central work I’ll do because storytelling is the work I love most & the greatest need I see in the world. I have quite a few writing projects in various states. It’s time to get them all polished up and out into the world. More on this soon.

Betting on me
Betting on myself is the best bet. I’ve never regretted it, even when things went horribly wrong. This is how I’ve learned and grown the most in my career and life. This is another reason I’m focusing on my writing in 2025.

Community
Caring for ourselves and betting ourselves is not work we do alone. It takes a village. My community and my medical team is central to my health, well-being, and creative work. I’m never alone in it. Neither are you.

Thank you for being on this journey of discovery with me. Let’s enjoy the ride. We’re all just walking each other home.

creativity

Are we thinking about leadership with the wrong metrics?

Christa Avampato
Photo by Steve Leisher on Unsplash

“We don’t elect a president based on policies. We shouldn’t. We should elect them for their character, because we don’t know what’s going to come up.” ~Retired Lieutenant General H.R. McMaster, former National Security Adviser

When we consider hiring (or electing) leaders, we often jump to their experience and policies. General McMaster is asking us to consider who they are. We live in a highly dynamic world. From one day to the next, we’re experiencing dramatic and sweeping changes. New information is widely and broadly disseminated at lightning speed. We need leaders who can operate in this paradigm and help others navigate it, too. 

Rather than looking at a leader’s past experience, what if we think about how they approach the future? Can a leader adapt and adjust? Are they flexible? Do they have a learning-mindset? A grow-mindset? Are they thoughtful? Are they collaborative? Do they care about the people they serve and support? Are they surrounded by bright, eager, caring people? Do they exhibit empathy and compassion? Is love a core value, and how have they demonstrated the use of love in their leadership?

How might hiring (and elections) shift if we embraced General McMaster’s advice? What kind of world might we be able to build together if the strength of someone’s character was consider at least as much as their experience and policies? 

This switch undoubtedly makes hiring and elections more nuanced, complex, and time-consuming. However, given the state of the world and rate of change we’re experiencing, leadership has never been more important to the stability of our planet and society. We deserve to have leaders who are up to the challenges of today and tomorrow. To find and hire these leaders, we need to invest the necessary time and effort to find out who they are, what we care about, and how they can help us move forward together.  

creativity

Can ecofiction inspire climate action?

Christa Avampato
Created by Christa Avampato using AI.

While on vacation I wrote my first full piece of ecofiction for a climate fiction writing competition. It’s a short story (5,000 words) that provides a slice of life in New York City in the year 2200, and grew out of the research I did for my University of Cambridge dissertation.

It’s told through the eyes of a journalist walking his dog who by chance meets the 90-year-old former mayor who galvanized the rebuilding of NYC after it was destroyed by floods caused by climate change. Biomimicry figures prominently in it. I tried to incorporate humor, heart, and redemption alongside the heartbreak, loss, and destruction. Ultimately, it’s a story about leadership, community, and vision.

No matter the outcome of the competition, I enjoyed writing it and plan to do more with these characters and in this genre. The predominant channels and messages we’re using for climate storytelling now are not generating the scale and speed of the changes we need. Fiction can play a bigger role is painting the picture of what a world transformed can look like, what it will take to get there, and how we might work together to make it so. The fandoms around fiction can be a unifying force for good, which is exactly what we need, now more than ever.

(I created the images below with AI, inspired by the story I wrote.)

creativity

Why do we turn away from those who need help?

Christa Avampato
Photo by Margarida Afonso on Unsplash

At 3am on Friday morning, I was woken up out of a sound sleep. A man was on Coney Island Avenue, which my apartment faces, screaming. “Help! Someone please help me! Please!”

He was rolling around on the ground. It was cold, windy, and dark. He was alone. People were walking by him, not paying him any mind. There was something so earnest in his voice, so bone-chilling. I called 911.

The 911 operator asked for my name, phone number, address, and any details about the man, though I had very little to offer except his location. I hung up, and 10 seconds later my local police precinct called me back. The sergeant asked all the same questions the operator asked me. My guess is they were checking to make sure this wasn’t some kind of prank. When I told him the man had been crying out for a few minutes, he said, “Really? You’re the only call we’ve gotten.”

30 seconds later, two police cars and an ambulance pulled up to the corner. The man’s cries quieted. The EMTs immediately got him onto a gurney and wrapped him in blankets. One of the police officers walked down the block and collected a backpack and a walker. He loaded them into the ambulance with the man and the EMTs. I don’t know why his walker and backpack were so far from where he was. Was he attacked? Was he disoriented? I’ll never know. I do know I’m glad I called. I’m glad he got help.I’m glad the system worked.

I went back to bed after the scene was cleared. I said a prayer hoping he would get all the help he needed. I thought about how no one else had called, not the people walking by the man, not even the attendants at the 24-hour gas stations or bodegas on the corner.

I wonder what’s happening to us in this world, how and why we’ve become immune to cries for help, why we assume people in desperate need have somehow brought the situation on themselves. I wonder why our sense of humanity and decency is eroding. Why are we not helping when the need is so clear and persistent?

A European friend of mine once said to me he thought the saddest thing about America is that it has no social safety net. What I realized in those early hours of Friday night is that we do have a social safety net, and it’s us. We have to be the social safety net for each other. When someone cries out for help, we need to show up and extend a hand. We’re all just walking each other home. 

creativity

How to use your front door to inspire your life in 2024

Christa Avampato
My front door for 2024. Photo by Christa Avampato.

I decorated my front door for the new year with my 2024 word for the year, a Rumi quote I want to carry with me every day, and a handmade house blessing for my new apartment from my dear friend, Kelly Greenaur.

My word for 2024 — vulnerability
Instead of resolutions, I adopt a word for the year to guide my thoughts and actions, and I write out some of my wishes I hope the word helps me take. In 2023, my word was clarity and I did find more clarity in every area of my life. In 2024, my word is vulnerability. By embracing my own vulnerability and supporting others doing the same, I hope I can bridge the divides in our society, and between people and nature. By recognizing and naming my fears and concerns, I can alleviate them. I can only solve problems and challenges I’m willing to have. By recognizing and naming my hopes and dreams, I can realize them. I can only climb the mountains I’m willing to attempt.

My word for 2024. Photo by Christa Avampato.

Letting myself be vulnerable opens me up to experiences I need and want, and otherwise wouldn’t have. I don’t want to leave anything unsaid. I want to take more chances and risks, asking for what I want, explaining how I feel, and sharing what I believe. I’m excited to see who and what I’ll find on this adventure. I want to be open to the world, and whatever it has to show and teach me, even if that breaks me and cracks me open. With those cracks, more light will find its way in, as Rumi wrote and the late great Leonard Cohen sang.

Rumi
The Rumi quote, “Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal. Walk out of your house like a shepherd.”, is one I want to use this year to help heal others and the world. We have so much capacity to help each other through this life, and I want to make sure I use mine to the fullest. I’m hopeful the light I find by being more vulnerable will be light I can share with others.

Rumi quote. Art and photo by Christa Avampato.

A handmade house blessing
Kelly sent me this house blessing talisman for Christmas, along with a stitched bracelet and an ornament that says, “I wish you lived next door.” (Me, too, Kel!) They were made by two women — Dau Nan from Myanmar and Bina Biswa from Bhutan — who now live in Buffalo, New York and are part of Stitch Buffalo, a textile art center committed to empowering refugee and immigrant women through the sale of their handcrafted goods, inspiring creativity, inclusion, community education, and stewarding the environment through the re-use of textile supplies. These passions of helping people and the environment are ones Kelly and I share, and I’m so grateful for her friendship, love, and support.

Stitch Buffalo crafts. Photos by Christa Avampato.

I hope 2024 is everything you want and need it to be. This year will be turbulent, and holds opportunities for progress, joy, and love. Onward we go, together.

creativity

Let love lead

Christa Avampato
Dinner at Selwyn College. Photo by Mitch Reznick.

I’m flying back to the U.S. now after a week at University of Cambridge / Cambridge Institute for Sustainability Leadership (CISL) with passionate, intelligent, and inspiring classmates, presenters, professors, and the CISL team. This time I grew as much personally as professionally. I was able to ask questions, have discussions, and voice ideas I’ve previously struggled to articulate. I couldn’t have done that without my classmates and friends who listened, provided kind and constructive feedback, and offered their ideas, perspectives, and experiences. This is a gift I carry with me now. I’m so grateful for all of it.

Humour, play, creativity, and imagination played a role in many of our classes and social activities, and they helped bring joy, light, hope, and optimism into this challenging field. The work we do, on this course and in our lives as we attempt to tackle climate change issues from many different angles, is intense. It can also be intensely fun.

On a personal note, I began the week thinking of my stepfather who was my Dad-by-choice. My family lost him a year ago exactly on the day this workshop at Cambridge began. I honoured him in my pecha kucha presentation by sharing the last words he ever said to me in-person. I went to see my family right before our first workshop in September 2022. He said to me, “Hey, I know you’ll work hard at Cambridge, but please try to have some fun over there, too.”

My Dad knew me well, and it’s been difficult to lose someone who was always in my corner and read every piece of writing I’ve ever published. I could feel his spirit with me all week, encouraging me to embrace laughter and love whenever possible, especially during challenging times. Love and laughter serve as resources to help us stay with the trouble. They make us resilient. When we lead with love, we can open people up so that we deeply connect, collaborate, and create to tackle the most serious challenges together.

These photos show our formal dinner together at Selwyn College, my view from the train leaving Cambridge, and my Pops. As I go back to my New York life, I will do my best to put into action everything I learned in this beautiful, inspiring sanctuary with these beautiful, inspiring people. I’m already looking forward to July when we’ll be together again in Cambridge. I’m the luckiest person to be a part of this.

My view from the train – Cambridge to London. Photo by Christa Avampato.