“Going home doesn’t feel like triumph. It feels like relief.” ~Dr. John Bucher, Joseph Campbell Foundation executive director
A few weeks ago, I had the great fortune to listen to my friend and mentor, John Bucher, talk about The Odyssey at Los Angeles’s Getty Villa. The title of his talk was “No Place Like Home: Why The Odyssey Is the Story We Keep Retelling”. (His talk is streaming on YouTube and you can watch here.)
I’ve been thinking about the idea of home a lot recently. Homer’s ancient Greek epic The Odyssey follows Odysseus, king of Ithaca, as he spends 10 years trying to get home after the Trojan War. While he faces monsters, storms, and gods, his wife, Penelope, and son Telemachus fight off aggressive suitors taking over his palace. As John explains, it’s about the war after the war and finding an answer to the question, “How do we go home when home no longer exists?”
It struck me so clearly that Odysseus’s journey is in many ways like a quest all of us have had. For me, his journey parallels my healing from cancer. My 10-year medication journey like his 10-year trek. The dog who is waiting for him so faithfully and then passes once he’s sure of his father’s return – much like how Phinny passed once he knew I would be okay in every way. Odysseus’s home was nothing like the one he left. Neither is my body.
John went on to say, “We might prefer to skip the journey. What we learn is that the journey is worth it.” And I feel that in my every cell of my body. I hate that I got cancer. It’s not a journey I ever wanted to take, not a community of survivors I ever wanted to join. But I had no choice. The journey back to wellness was forced on me. I had to fight, or die. And I wanted to live, so I fought. It was worth it because I learned what I was made of at my core. I learned how people feel about me while I’m still among the living. Best of all, I got to help so many others by lighting the way along their own difficult journeys.
Home isn’t a place, at least not for me. Home is love. Home is belonging. Home is friendship. Home is being a part of something bigger than myself. Home is purpose. Home is something I carry with me, always, in all ways, everywhere I go.
When we swing for the fences and chase dreams, we get disappointed a lot. It’s the price we pay for going after exactly the life we want rather than just settling for the easiest path or what happens to present itself to us. If we actively shape our lives, no matter the odds, we’re bound to meet rejection now and again. If we’re lucky.
Whenever I’m disappointed that something didn’t work out as I hoped, I say to myself, “I wonder what I was saved from?” Sometimes, I eventually learn the answer.
My cancer made me healthier, mentally and physically. It set my priorities in order. It made me realize what truly matters most. I don’t if any of that would have happened without cancer. So I choose to be grateful for it. I choose to believe that I’ll live longer and better because of cancer, even if it did try to kill me a few times. Life works in mysterious ways.
I read a story about a woman who wanted to spend more time noticing the things that go right in life. Every time something goes right for her, she says to herself, “Everything always works out for me always all the time.”
It could be something small – making the perfect cup of coffee in the morning or catching the train just in time. Or it could be something monumental – getting into a dream graduate program or acing an interview. No matter the scale, she repeats that phrase, and she’s gotten her friends hooked on it, too.
And you know what? It worked. With that phrase, she retrained her brain to notice when something goes right just as often as when something goes wrong. If we constantly tell ourselves the odds are stacked in our favor, can we actually shift the odds? Are our minds that powerful? It’s worth a shot.
Sunset from Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Photo by Christa Avampato.
“If you can get 1 percent better each day for one year, you’ll end up thirty-seven times better by the time you’re done.” ~James Clear, Atomic Habits
I don’t need to shoot up like a rocket in any facet of my life to have the life I want. Instead, I’m consistent. Every day I try to be a bit better, do a bit better. Those small consistent changes are sustainable and measurable. They add up and they matter. This might feel slow. Some days I feel like I’m not making any progress toward something that’s really important to me.
But then I look back a month, a year, two years, five years. I see how far I’ve come. I look at old pictures and I see how sick I looked. I remember how sick I felt all the time. I still feel sick a lot but I’ve learned to not dwell on it. I acknowledge it.
“I see you trying, body,” I say. “Okay, we’ll rest for a moment.”
I take a deep breath. I pull myself up. I remind myself every day how far I’ve come. I keep going. I do things that make me happy. Things that bring me joy.
And tomorrow, I’ll do it all over again, I hope. Universe willing. For many, many days to come. Long may it continue.
On Monday, I felt like I walked through a portal into a different world. Not through a book or movie, but in real life. This is a story about determination, the power of technology to improve our health, and the desire to heal through a combination of Eastern and Western medicine.
The Long Tail of Cancer Treatment
When I went through ACT chemo, a notoriously difficult treatment, I received acupuncture with Ryan Smith after every round. I responded exceptionally well, experiencing fewer side effects than most because of acupuncture. Now five years into cancer survivorship, I face a lot of daily side effects that I need to manage: fatigue, pain, anxiety, hot flashes, insomnia, and weight management are just a few of them. In August, my med regimen changes because I am (thankfully and gratefully!) five years out from active treatment and disease-free. Med changes are frightening for me because when I transitioned from ACT chemo to Taxol, Taxol nearly killed me twice. It turns out I have a deathly allergy to it and I received dense-dose treatment. So, add that to my anxiety load.
I knew acupuncture could help with these side effects and ease my August med transition. However, the cost of regular individual sessions has gotten prohibitive in NYC, where I live. I searched relentlessly for an acupuncturist skilled at cancer survivorship who also took my insurance. I came up empty-handed every time. For years, I heard the common refrain: acupuncturists do not take insurance. Stop looking, bite the bullet, and pay the small fortune as an investment in your health.
And then I tried one last time. I called United Healthcare, my insurance company, to ask if I could submit partial reimbursement for anyone in their network. The agent came back with something even better: a list of medical doctors practicing acupuncture in my insurance network. I was floored. And then I immediately assumed the experience would not match the care I received from Ryan during my chemo days.
Hacking the System with AI
I popped the list of providers into AI, explained my needs, and asked if it could identify a doctor who met my criteria. AI returned one name and identified the perfect provider for me: an MD, MPH, and acupuncturist who takes my insurance, conveniently located in midtown Manhattan at NYU Langone (where I already get all my medical care) with stellar reviews of 4.8 out of 5 stars after almost 3,000 patient ratings. Rather than paying almost $200 per session, I will pay my $40 co-pay. My mouth fell open. Could this be the diamond I searched for all these years?
I went in for my consultation a month ago, and in 15 minutes he showed me exactly how acupuncture could alleviate my side effects because they all stem from my body’s structure. I wrinkled my forehead. Structural? He explained the radiation I received on my left side essentially split my body in half, tightening my entire left side from my neck to my toes, which directly contributed to my symptoms. Through a few quick mobility tasks, he demonstrated that the strength and flexibility of my right and left sides were so different it felt as if I was two different people. All of that tension originated from the radiation on my left side, causing my left shoulder to tighten and roll forward compared to my right. Acupuncture, over time, could unblock all of that, allowing us to reteach my left side how to stay open.
I told him I believed completely in the power of acupuncture, and he said I did not have to believe. I will actually see the effects after every session. We do mobility tests before the treatment, and then we repeat the mobility tests afterward.
The Moment of Release
On Monday, he combined acupuncture, heat, and electrode stimulus for my first session. My body accepted the treatment so readily that my left side was actually freer than my right side post-treatment. Even he was surprised at how much my body wants to heal. That release lasted for about 72 hours. Not bad for being crunched for five years. As I left the office, I felt my life begin to shift. I felt unleashed.
What Comes Next
Our plan includes weekly sessions for four weeks. Then we will re-evaluate. We also plan to try a few other complimentary treatments, including a saline drip he developed to release the layers of fascia in my scar tissue from one another. I cannot wait to see what lies ahead, and how healing myself will help heal the world around me. And I cannot wait to share it all with you.
This week was filled with more than its fair share of disappointments: a few people I trusted let me down; the heavy emotional challenge of having a foster pup who not only isn’t happy to see me when I get home but who actively runs away from me because of the tough life he’s had is a painful circumstance for both of us; opportunities that I hoped would work out and didn’t despite my best efforts.
Of course there were bright spots this week, too: NYC’s Secrets & Lies, my storytelling show on the 28th, sold out and I’ve hit upon a great ghost story to tell; I had a great conversation about the show with a podcast host I admire; I was finally able to get supportive meds for my foster pup so both of us could get a full night’s sleep; I read, researched, and wrote about topics that matter to me.
Also, this month is my 5-year cancer-free anniversary so really that far outweighs any disappointment life will ever throw at me. I looked death in the eye and didn’t flinch, multiple times. A few disappointments? I’ll take ’em!
After a long work meeting this afternoon for a new project I’m about to begin, I walked home through Green-Wood Cemetery. The sun on my face and the scent of autumn leaves felt like a gift. It occurred to me that the challenges I’ve had this week are pointing me in the direction I’m meant to go. The universe is closing some doors so that the path for me to take going forward is clear.
Over the past year I’ve felt a bit stuck and unsure of which way to go, and so I’ve waited – hoping some insights would emerge. While I prefer insights with positive outcomes, learning where not to spend my time and effort is also valuable. It just doesn’t feel as good when the revelation arrives. I put a lot of effort into making plans and when those plans don’t work, it can feel discouraging.
Looking back on my life, the best things that happened to me aren’t things I planned. They were opportunities that found me and that I grabbed with both hands because they were even better than what I had planned. Maybe this week has again taught me to be open to possibility, to change, to growth. Maybe there’s some even more wonderful than I could ever imagine just up ahead, around the bend, and what I need to do to find it is to keep going.
In the meantime, I made myself a sunny bake – something I often do when I don’t know what to do. This week my lovely friend, Stephanie, posted a recipe for zucchini lemon cake and I gave it a whirl. Fuel for the sweet journey ahead.
It happened! A dream deferred, but not denied. The hope of going to and graduating from University of Cambridge was part of what kept me alive during my cancer journey in 2020 / 2021. On Friday, that hope became a reality — I graduated with my Master’s in Sustainability Leadership with my friends, family, and faculty there.
The best part of these years has been to do this programme with such a stunning group of people who have inspired me from day one when we started down this path together in September 2022 – students, faculty, and staff. No one’s more fortunate than me to have had this experience with them and to call them dear friends.
In this uncertain world, I’m not sure what my next chapter holds. I do know I’m on my way and all the better for having these gorgeous people as fellow travelers.
A profound thank you full of love and an enormous congratulations to everyone in Cohort 13. I’m beyond proud to be one of you and I’m already looking forward to our next reunion.💚 (Happy photos below!)
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.
Redwoods in California show new shoots after a forest fire. Photo by Melissa Enright – US Forest Service
“Sometimes I think heaven is just a new pair of glasses…if I put on the better pair of glasses, I really notice what’s still working [well in this world].” ~Anne Lamott
As I look around at our world plagued by war, the climate crisis, and a seemingly endless stream of difficulties, I’ve been thinking a lot about Anne Lamott’s quote about putting on a better pair of glasses and operating from that lens. It doesn’t mean I’m ignoring the challenges and their scale; I’m seeing them alongside the progress, joy, and good news that’s alive in the world. A sampling of good news if you need a boost:
With AI rapidly advancing, which skills will be most needed in the future? I guessed STEM. However, Christopher Pissarides Nobel Prize-winning economist and professor at The London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) told Bloomberg that empathy, leadership, communication, and creative skills may be the ones most needed in an AI-dominated world and job market. This is because those skills are much more difficult for AI to replace, and they are skills needed to make AI useful and impactful. Humanities friends, rejoice!
Do you agree with Pissarides? How do you feel about the rise of artificial intelligence? What do you think the biggest opportunities and risks are with AI?
Christa Avampato 