Tag: healing

creativity

Day 23: The secret of life

Christa Avampato
Halftime show at the 2026 FIFA World Cup. https://youtu.be/B7hIiaXBpco?si=Xr-h5q5_U-tsXxnZ

I’ve never cried during a halftime show of a sports event until today. During the FIFA World Cup between Spain and Argentina, the halftime show had a theme of love and the unifying power of music. For each other and for ourselves. Chris Martin of Cold Play and Global Citizen created it. I danced around my living room and sang along, so excited to see the breadth and depth of the performers from across the world: The Muppets including Sesame Street characters and The Electric Mayhem, Shakira with Burna Boy and Ghetto Kids, Staten Island’s PS22 Chorus, Jason Sudeikis in full Ted Lasso mode, conductor Gustavo Dudamel leading the New York Philharmonic and the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra, Madonna, BTS, Justin Bieber, and Emmanuel Kelly. I’ll be watching it on repeat here. An eclectic mashup full of unbridled joy is the boost I needed.

Joy was part of my care plan when I went through cancer. Every day, no matter what happened, I found something that brought me joy. Sometimes it was a song, a show or movie, a friend, a good test result, my dog, something delicious, taking a walk with my sister, sunshine. It didn’t take long after I was diagnosed to realize the secret of life is to love and be loved. It’s that simple and that complex.

Love saved me more than once on that journey – friends who got me to the ER and took care of my dog, care packages, cards, flowers, texts, phone calls, and emails when I needed to know I wasn’t alone in all this, my sister staying with me for many weeks while I recovered from surgeries, friends who got me grocery gift cards that I used when I was finally strong enough to shop for myself again, my business school friends who put together a recorded zoom and daily emails to spell out a secret message – “Stay Strong And Full Of Light.” I’m going to get that as a tattoo.

I’m reminded that in the midst of tragedy and sadness, a beauty emerges that isn’t always as apparent in good times. Maybe that’s because difficulty strips away some kind of inhibition that holds us back too often from saying and showing how we feel. During cancer I had the chance to hear things from people that are often only said during someone’s eulogy. One of the great gifts of cancer and almost dying is that I got to hear those things while very much alive. I’ll always be grateful for that and all the love that surrounded me. When I was down to nothing, love shone brighter than ever. Isn’t that something?

creativity

Day 27: It takes a village to heal

Christa Avampato

Healing is a group sport. None of us do it alone. My team is enormous and varied, clinically and personally, earth-bound and spiritually. We’re all involved in an intricate dance where even the steps that seem backward in the moment are just part of how this journey unfolds in real-time. Healing isn’t linear. It can’t be. The world and our bodies are forever in motion on the macro and micro levels. Life is chancey and we never know exactly what’s around the bend.

I see this unfold with my foster dogs on an accelerated timeline. I think it’s one of the great tragedies that our beloved best furry friends (bffs) never live long enough no matter how many years we have them. The best we can do is make every day a great day with them.

My current foster is Blondie. She may be familiar to you. I picked up this little senior lady at Animal Care Centers of NYC last summer and fostered her for Muddy Paws. She was adopted quickly because she’s a sweetheart 🥹 and sadly returned 😭.

On top of the very difficult life she had prior to being found running alone and terrified through traffic on the BQE (!) 🤯 and taken to the ACC by a good samaritan, she’s faced a number of health challenges recently.😥

Now she’s back with me. Thanks to the INCREDIBLE care provided by our rockstar Muddy Paws vet team (YES, we have a veterinarian and vet tech on staff in our very own vet clinic!), I’m nursing her back to health and looking for the perfect adopter to help this very deserving girl have a comfortable, joyful retirement chapter. 😍👑

Second, to help Blondie and the 1,000+ dogs we find homes for EVERY YEAR, a generous donor is matching all donations made TODAY. Every $1 you donate instantly becomes $2! 💲💸

If you’d like to make a donation of any size to my fundraising page (truly, EVERY SINGLE DOLLAR HELPS!), that amount will be matched and go directly to helping our dogs find their happy forever homes.

Here is the link to my page and an enormous thank you in advance for helping me, my fosters like Blondie, and the Muddy Paws pack save the lives of more dogs every day: https://give.muddypawsrescue.org/phineas 2026.

Sending lots of love and gratitude to you always! I am so grateful to all of you who support me in my health journey and the dogs in the Muddy Paws pack. We couldn’t heal without you, and healing is the greatest gift we can ever give anyone.

creativity

28-Day Countdown to Healing

Christa Avampato

This is me after acupuncture today. It was my 10th session with the incredible Dr. Degenhardt at NYU Langone Health. My body’s responded so well to the treatments that I have no more blocks in my body. Now we are moving on to strength building in my core, left hip, and left leg. This is a huge milestone and we got here much faster than expected.

Tomorrow marks my 28 day countdown to my medication switch. Over the weekend, I opened my last bottle of letrozole – a medication I’ve taken for 5 years to prevent cancer recurrence. The side effects it’s caused, along with the side effects from my other treatments, are what brought me to Dr. Degenhardt. The medication did its job, and also took its toll. The hope is that this new medication will be easier on my body.

To mark this turning point, I made a special dinner: zaalouk, a Moroccan dish that is synonymous with celebration. It’s meant to be scooped up and savored with our hands – a tactile experience to nourish ourselves. I made these za’atar flatbreads by combining greek yogurt, flour, salt, baking powder, and olive oil. It’s all topped with toasted harissa chickpeas – a symbol of prosperity, continuity, the cycle of life, feminine health, the sustaining power of nature, and the desire for a good life. All fitting for this day.

When I was a kid, I loved making paper chains that countdown to Christmas. When I was going through radiation (another treatment that precipitated side effects Dr. Degenhardt is clearing!), I made a paper chain with inspiring quotes to count down the days of that treatment. I’m going to do that this month as well, but rather than a paper chain, I’m going to count down the days by sharing my thoughts about these past 5 years via writing.

Thank you to everyone who has played a part in this journey in so many ways. I’m so grateful. I’m the luckiest, and I know it.

creativity

Why We Need Chill Hours (According to an Apple Tree, a Squirrel, and a Bear)

Christa Avampato
Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

We feel guilty for being tired in January. But for apple trees, squirrels, and bears doing nothing is the most productive thing they do all year.

I grew up on an apple farm in New York State’s Hudson Valley.

Because of that, my relationship with winter is a little different than most. To the casual observer, an apple orchard in January looks unproductive. The branches are bare, the ground is frozen, and it appears that nothing is happening.

But if you ask a farmer, they’ll tell you January is one of the most critical months of the year. It’s the month that decides the harvest.

We have a tendency in our culture to treat rest as a sign of weakness—or at best, a reward you get only after you’ve burned out. But nature has a different rulebook. She doesn’t ask herself to earn her rest. In the wild, winter isn’t a pause button; it’s an active biological process of repair.

If you’re feeling slow, foggy, or tired this week, I have good news: there’s nothing wrong with you. In fact, you’re doing everything right according to nature. You are just wintering.

Here are three examples of how nature uses the cold to build the future—and how we can adopt a few pages of her playbook.

1. The Apple Tree: Counting the Cold

On the farm, nature and farmers alike live by a concept called “Chill Hours.”

We tend to think trees just “shut off” when the temperature drops. In reality, they’re actively counting. Apple trees have a strict biological requirement to endure a specific number of hours (usually 800 to 1,000) between 32° and 45°F (0° and 7°C.)

If they don’t get those hours—if the winter is too warm or too short—the hormone that suppresses blooming won’t break down. They literally cannot produce fruit in the spring unless they have rested enough in the winter.

The lesson? The productivity of the harvest is biologically impossible without the stillness of the winter. You aren’t losing time by resting; you’re banking your Chill Hours for when the light and warmth of spring return.

2. The Arctic Ground Squirrel: Renovating the Brain

If you’ve felt a bit of “brain fog” lately, you’re in good company.

When the Arctic Ground Squirrel hibernates, their body temperature drops below freezing, and they essentially disconnects their neural pathways. Their brain synapses wither and retract—like pruning a tree—to save energy.

This sounds destructive, but it’s actually a renovation. Research shows that when they wake up, their brains undergo a massive “regrowth” phase. They regenerate those connections stronger and more efficient than before, similar to how muscle fibers when broken down by exercise knit themselves back together when we rest to become stronger.

The brain fog isn’t a failure; it’s a remodel. Sometimes the brain needs to disconnect to clear the clutter and build new pathways for the year ahead.

3. The Black Bear: The Miracle Healers

Finally, there’s the bear. We know they enter a deep sleep in the winter, but what happens while they sleep is the real miracle.

Research from the University of Minnesota found a stunning capability in hibernating black bears: they are super-healers. If a bear goes into hibernation with a wound, the bear will heal faster and with less scarring during their dormant state than they would during the active summer months.

Even with a metabolism running at a fraction of normal speed, their immune system shifts into a specialized repair mode.

It’s a powerful reminder: We heal best when we rest.

A Permission Slip for January

If nature—in all her wisdom and efficiency—requires a season of dormancy to prepare for fruit, rewire the brain, and heal wounds, why do we think we are exempt? Why do we insist on pushing through when what we really need is the sleep and rest that will help us be better versions of ourselves in the long-run? Sleep and rest are powerful tools. Use them. Appreciate them. Luxuriate in them. Your future self will thank you.

So, if you’re struggling to get into high gear this winter, stop. Take a nap. Read a book. Laugh with friends. Eat nourishing food. Breathe. Let the ground freeze knowing you’re giving yourself your necessary Chill Hours. Spring will be here soon enough. Don’t rush it. Rest.

creativity

The inspiring resilience of water bears

Christa Avampato
Tardigrades in space (and everywhere on Earth!) https://youtu.be/TV7qAsp6x3w

Water bears look like works of science fiction. The microscopic, 8-legged 1,300 species of water bears (tardigrades) are alive and well. Their remarkable abilities to survive and thrive in harsh conditions make them seem even more improbable. They’re one of the most resilient lifeforms that’s ever lived.

When I had 6 weeks of daily radiation to treat cancer, I thought a lot about the perseverance of water bears. The technicians would position me on the table, then close the heavy door behind them as they left the room to protect themselves from the radiation. Click. Through a small window, they’d watched me, alone, unmoving, exposed on a table with no protection from the radiation blasting my body. I imagined myself as a tardigrade, opening to the light and radiation, absorbing it to kill any microscopic cancer cells floating around my body. I would think of Rumi’s quote, “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”

By the end of week six, I had a painful burn the size of a baseball in the middle of my chest. “What would a tardigrade do with a burn like this?”, I wondered. They’d tend to what needed tending. So, that’s what I did. I changed dressings and applied the medication twice a day. I meditated on my wound, imagining it closing and healing. It was painful and frightening to have a wound like that, but like so much along my cancer journey, it passed. To my amazement and my doctors’, it healed in 2 weeks. Today it’s only a few freckles and the tattoo that marks the focus of the radiation beam, the place where the light entered me and healed me.

My healing is nothing compared to tardigrades. I bow in deep humility to them. Devastating drought? A sprinkle of water revives them from completely dried out to fully functioning. Deep freeze of outer space? They thaw and don’t know they’ve been away from Earth. Crushing pressure? They flatten and bounce back. Blast of radiation 1,400 times stronger than what would kill humans? They repair their shattered DNA and go about their day.

Tardigrades instill awe, wonder, and confusion in scientists. How do they survive everywhere under such extremes? Why have they evolved to do this?

They’re ubiquitous, found from the top of the Himalayas to Antarctic depths, at temperatures from -328°F (-200°C) to 304°F (151°C). We know they repair damaged DNA rapidly and completely. It’s not that they aren’t impacted by their environment. They take the destruction around them, then they pick up the pieces, build back, and carry on.

As we consider how to create a world resilient to climate change impacts, again I’m thinking of tardigrades. How can we withstand hardship, quickly and completely fixing what breaks? How can we endure? Nature-based solutions to our most dire challenges are found all around us if only we look, listen, and seek to understand. In a world where we constantly navigate change and manage difficulty, I want to be a tardigrade — repairing myself, my ecosystem, and all beings with whom I share it.

creativity

Another hopeful cancer milestone

Christa Avampato

Today I graduated from 6 month exams with my breast surgeon to 1 year exams. Being 2 years cancer-free is a huge milestone because the risk of recurrence drops significantly.

I’m so grateful to my medical team at NYU Langone Health, friends, and family who helped me restore my health. Celebrating today and every day.

If you or someone you love is facing cancer, please know there are millions of us out here with stories of triumph, resilience, and renewal. We may get knocked down but we can rise stronger, braver, wiser, and healthier with more love and more compassion than ever.

This is my story and it can be yours, too. Eyes up. Keep going.

creativity

A Year of Yes: Social justice for our students

Christa Avampato

This week I’m speaking at a social justice event at a high school in New York. The basis of my talk is about mental health and healing. My main points are:

-We can say our weak things in a strong voice.

-The function of freedom is to free others by telling our story.

-We need to show up for others the way we want them to show up for us.

What do you think?

creativity

A Year of Yes: Getting personal about time on a podcast about change

Christa Avampato

Yesterday, I did an interview for a podcast called How Humans Change. I spoke with hosts Josh Chambers and Leiv Parton about change, transformation, death, trauma, writing, mental health, choices, poverty, technology, career, the passage of time, therapy, science, dinosaurs, biomimicry, super powers, and how healing, while difficult, is the best motivator of all. It’s my most personal interview to-date.

Some people who hear it will be surprised, and others will have answers to some long outstanding questions that I have rarely discussed in the past. I’m making a more concerted effort to address these topics thoughtfully, authentically, and often.

I always love meeting members of my tribe and these guys are definitely part of it. Thank you to my amazing friend and mentor, John Bucher, for connecting me to them. I’ll share the episode link when it’s live. Until then, give their first season a listen by clicking here.

creativity

In the pause: Reflections on loss, healing, and reinvention after losing my father 25 years ago today

Christa Avampato
25 years ago today, my father died. There are days in our lives that define us, and for me, that was the day, though not for the obvious reasons. That day, I walked out of a room that was dark and cluttered and confusing, and into another room that was empty. It remained empty for a long time.

There is a major reckoning that takes place when someone who made you leaves this planet, regardless of what your relationship was with that person. For me, that reckoning took two decades; longer than the time my father and I knew each other.

It only resolved after two decades because of my work with Brian. And it was work. It was not fun or inspiring work; it was, however, necessary. I did what I had to do to free myself. That was my only goal.

My father left this world without the two of us knowing or understanding each other. For a long time, I thought that was a sad fact. Now I realize how vital it was to my development; the day he died, I started to become who I am now. It was the day I began to build something from nothing. It is one of the two days I think of as life days, days when everything in my life shifted and there was no way to shift back.

I tell you this story not for sympathy or even empathy. I am long past the stage of needing or wanting either. I have adjusted, healed, and moved on. My point is that you may be in the midst of something difficult now, something that feels like it may break you, something that makes you feel like you may never be whole or at peace. You are in that empty room I walked into 25 years ago today. The space can feel overwhelming. The emptiness can feel like a void. It’s not, I promise you. It’s a canvas, a blank page, a stage. You will build something there, something that is totally of your own design. And there is no rush. You do what’s right for you, when it’s right for you. I look forward to seeing your masterpiece. Happy December 1st. I love you.

creativity

In the pause: Healing takes time

Christa Avampato

Friends, I have had a rough week. One of the roughest I’ve ever had. Truly. I have been struggling mightily on so many fronts that at one point, I could feel the walls closing in on me. There were a lot of triggering events and I felt like I was descending back down into the scary tunnel of my PTSD from many years ago. I couldn’t sleep or eat for almost 3 days. Eventually, somewhere deep down in the depths of my soul, something began to rise through all the sadness and fear and noise. It was my power. It was my voice.

Your power and your voice are always there. Always. I know it can be difficult to hear them. I know that pain stands up and demands to be recognized. And I know that healing takes time. But you will heal. Be kind to yourself. Be on your own side. Be your own best advocate. Be fierce. Know your truth, and don’t let anyone else tell you who you are. You know you. You be you. Because you are so much more than enough. It takes time to know that, too. Take the time. It’s worth it.