“I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow; but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.” ~Agatha Christie
To make sure I never forget to take my meds and supplements, I parse them out each week. Today, I parsed out my last 2 pills of letrozole and tossed the empty bottle in this photo into the recycling bin. And I smiled and cried.
I’m grateful for its service; it’s kept me alive and cancer-free for the 5 years and 3 months I’ve taken it. And I’m so looking forward to bidding it farewell; the painful and difficult physical, mental, and emotional side effects have been a daily struggle to bear. And I have mostly carried them in silence so they wouldn’t overtake me.
Inching closer to ending one chapter and beginning another, I’ve felt a shift. That something in me is changing. That my small corner of the world around me is changing. That this is about so much more than switching medications.
It’s about getting to begin again. To reshape my life. To build back better, from the inside out. In the immortal words of Whitesnake, I don’t know where I’m going but I sure know where I’ve been. And I can’t wait to see what lies ahead. It will be grand just because I get to live it. I’m ready for an adventure.
“Instead of asking what’s the easiest thing you can do to mitigate climate change, ask yourself what’s the hardest thing you can do. That’s where you can have the most impact.” ~ Dr. Ken Lacovara
My friend, mentor, and science hero said this during a recent talk he gave at the Harvard Club. With climate change, or any massive problem, we tend to focus on what’s the path of least resistance. “How can we get ourselves and others engaged in action with minimal effort?’ is the common refrain. But what if we did the hardest thing we can imagine, as Ken suggests? What might happen then?
I’ve been turning this idea over in my mind for weeks since Ken said it. What’s the hardest thing I can do to stop climate change? What’s the hardest thing I can do to build a happy, fulfilling life? What’s the hardest thing I can do to help my foster dogs and honor my soul dog, Phineas? What’s the hardest thing I can do to move forward after 5 years of cancer treatment? What’s the hardest thing I can do to be good at my job, to be a better writer, to be a better entertainment producer, to be a better friend, to make my community and the greater world a better place?
These are questions I’m thinking about a lot right now. The one I have an answer to is how to move forward after these 5 years. I’m moving forward without fear, and full of love and hope and gratitude. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and Ken helped me see it’s how I can do the most good. So on 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.
This week I was working on a big self-imposed deadline. I’ve been chipping away at a nonfiction book proposal for a publisher’s open call. I’ve thrown a lot of time and heart into this proposal. I was almost to the finish line. I had polished one of the sample chapter and had two more to go.
And I just didn’t want to finish it. Not like this for this publisher. I was frustrated and stressed. So I stopped. That’s when a valuable question rose to the surface: What am I really trying to do with this deadline?
I was going to spend my entire long weekend exhausted to churn out something that wouldn’t be representative of what I wanted to do for a publisher that, while aligned with my ethos and perspective of the world, wouldn’t be able to offer much support for my book. They have a big heart but limited resources and an even more limited track record.
So I stopped. I’m proud of the work I did on it, and I can use that work for other projects. But I let myself cross this off my to-do list without getting it done right now in this way for this purpose. Once I made that choice, I breathed a sigh of relief.
One thing this past 5 years has taught me is that our most precious resource is time. We can’t make more of it. Once it’s spent, it’s gone. I don’t spend time doing anything I don’t want to do. If I can’t do it with my whole heart, then I don’t do it. If I’m in the midst of something and getting no joy from it, I stop. I don’t feel obligated to continue. I stopped pushing through just to prove I could. To live, sure. Out of of some made up obligation? Nah.
The word “should” has left my vocabulary. Good riddance to it.
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?
Using my new Beautiful by Drew plates today. Just for me.
We’ve all uttered the phrase, “Someday I’ll…” It applies to big dreams and small delights. Earlier this year, I’d planned to make brunch for friends. I’d worked out a lovely feast as cooking and baking are two of my favorite pastimes. I bought new cookware, bakeware, and plates for the occasion (thank you Drew Barrymore!)
The winter being what it was meant we decided to cancel, and sadly never rescheduled. I was sad about this. I never even opened the box of Beautiful by Drew plates. I just put the sealed box in the back of my closet for someday. After all, why should I have new plates just for myself. I’d wait until a special occasion. Every time I saw it, I felt a little pang. Missed opportunity. Missed connection. Missed fun.
Today as I was cleaning and reorganizing, I saw the sealed box. What was I waiting for, exactly? Why not use the new beautiful plates myself? I opened it, took out the new plates, and swapped out my old ones which are chipped and have seen better days. And thoroughly enjoyed them.
Over the past few months, I’ve been redecorating my apartment and rewarding myself with tiny splurges. These new plates, cookware, and bakeware. A few new small appliances in my kitchen. Painting my apartment. A few new pieces of furniture. New art. New books I’m excited to read. A new yoga mat. I’ve even learned to successfully take those spiderettes from spider plants and make whole new plants from them (a massive accomplishment for someone with no green thumb!) These are all small things that have brought me daily joy and they’ve added up to something wonderful – making someday today. We deserve it. We’re worth it.
Death Valley is the hottest, driest, and lowest place in North America. Most of the time, it looks like a barren, windswept land. Unforgiving. Hopeless. On the surface, it looks as if nothing could ever survive here. In line with its name, dead.
And yet, out of sight, millions of tiny seeds, bits of magic, lie in wait for just the right conditions to fulfill their potential. Patiently, they track rainfall, temperature, and wind. They have one shot to show us what they can do so they wait for the odds to be ever in their favor.
November 2025 – January 2026 set the stage for them to shine. In those months, a year’s worth of rain fell. The record rains leached salts from the soil and that triggered massive germination. The temperatures were exceptionally mild without becoming scorching hot. A mild winter and early spring temperatures gave the seeds the exact level of warmth they needed without burning them. The winds were calm, allowing the seeds to anchor themselves and root into the soil at their earliest growth stage rather than being blown away.
The patience of the seeds was rewarded, and so were we. The 2026 superbloom of wild flowers in Death Valley was the most significant in a decade, and on par with those in 2016, 2005, and 1998. Desert Gold, Poppy, Verbena, Golden Evening Primrose, and Purple Phacelia bloomed in such density that they looked like swaths of color rather than individuals flowers. The monotonous, dry land of Death Valley was transformed into a thing of beauty that rivals, and I would argue exceeds, any work of human art.
Bees buzz. Hummingbirds hover. A light wind carries the perfume of the flowers. Sights, sounds, and scents for sore eyes, weary souls, and hearts that need to be made whole in a way that only nature can provide. It will not last forever, and will be gone all too soon. But while it’s here, in all its blooming glory, we revel in it.
The Togetherhood Takeaway Long after the flowers wilt and Death Valley fades back to its seemingly empty landscape, we can carry the superbloom’s lessons into our lives, communities, and careers.
We don’t do anything alone The context and environment in which we find ourselves impacts our growth and progress. I’m obsessed with settings and orchestration. It’s my favorite thing to work on. How can I create the conditions to thrive, for myself and for others? How can I help us all to grow together?
Timing matters We are so quick to judge our own efforts and the efforts of others as if we solely control how successful something is. While we have control over our own efforts, we do not own the results. That is a difficult lesson for creators of any kind to learn and accept. It’s why I spend a lot of time and effort on creating environments and ecosystems where the people I work with can become the best versions of themselves. Some of our experiments work right out of the gate. Some of them don’t. And many times, our successes and failures are truly a matter of timing. The good news is we can always learn and try again. Improvement, no matter where we start, is a continuous process.
Quiet work is foundational It’s healthy to take a break, regroup, reflect, and come back stronger and more well-rested, and perhaps in a totally different form. Just because someone isn’t showing off what they’re doing doesn’t mean they aren’t building something worthy. In a world that is addicted to social media and recording every single moment for public consumption, there’s a profound sense of peace to be found in doing work in our own space without outside distractions. We don’t need to accept that all eyes have to be on us all the time. Underground work has immense value. We can choose the time to bloom when it’s right for us.
We think spring begins when the first flower blooms. But biologically, it starts right now—in the freezing cold.
If you’ve spent this winter in New York City like me, you’ve likely been dreaming of the arrival of spring during the freezing, snowy, and gray days. You also probably shook your fists at the sky when the groundhogs saw their shadow on February 2nd.
“When will this end?” you thought.
But if you ask a sugar maple or a wildflower seed, they will tell you that spring started while the snow was falling.
We tend to measure the season by what we can see—the green bud, the crocus, the robin. But nature does her most important preparation underground, long before the visuals arrive. In fact, she uses the harshness of late winter to fuel the growth of spring. Without the present cold, there is no future warmth—literally and figuratively, for nature and for us.
Here is how nature is prepping for spring right now in this last month of winter, and what we can learn from her and translate into our own lives.
1. The Cold Is the Key (Stratification)
We often complain about the bitter cold, gray skies, and damp days of February, wishing them away. But for many native plants, this weather in this season is non-negotiable. It’s the foundation of their flourishing future.
This process is called stratification. Seeds like milkweed, coneflower, and lavender have tough outer shells that keep them dormant. They literally cannot grow until they have gone through a period of intense cold and moisture. The freeze acts as a signal, softening the shell and telling the embryo inside that it is safe to wake up.
Without the hard winter, there is no spring bloom. The obstacle is also the key that turns the lock.
2. Use the Pressure and Change (Sap Flow)
Right now, maple syrup farmers are busy. Why? Because the sap is running.
But sap doesn’t run just because it gets warm. It runs because of the fluctuation. While the shifts in transitions may drive us crazy, it’s the alternation between freezing nights and thawing days that creates pressure changes inside the sugar maple trees, acting as a natural pump to move sugar from the roots up to the branches.
The tree uses the instability of the season to fuel its growth. Being off-balance all the time helps the tree find their secure center.
The Togetherhood Takeaway
We often want to jump straight from winter rest to full-bloom success. We want the project to launch, the book to sell, or the answer to appear.
But right now, today, nature is in the stratification phase. We are, too.
If you feel like nothing is happening right now, that you’re stuck and that the world is off-kilter, or if things feel cold and hard and impossible right now in your local community and our global community, remember the seed. You aren’t stuck. You’re just softening your shell so you can break through in the days ahead as the light and warmth return.
Use this time, today, tomorrow, and the rest of this month before spring, to prepare your roots. Organizing, planning, and laying the groundwork for our future—collectively and individually—is active growth, even if no one else can see it yet.
In November 2025, a college friend of mine passed away. He was just two years older than me. He had recently decided to leave his long-term job, where he’d been very successful, to finally pursue a passion project in this next season of his life. Six months later, he was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. Eighteen months after that, he was gone. He was so young, and his battle was both short and harrowing.
If you could know how and when your life would end, would you want to know? And what would you do with that information? How might you live differently when you know the end?
Start at the End
When I write anything, I either write backwards or, at least, with the end in mind. That’s also how I live life—knowing just how precious it always is and knowing that it may very well be much shorter than I’d like.
This isn’t just a somber reflection; it’s a necessary call to action. I recently heard an interview with the actor Minnie Driver where she said: “Don’t wait. For anything. What are you waiting for? Go live! Right now!” I feel that in my bones. That element of time is always front of mind for me. Maybe it’s a bit too front of mind sometimes, but in my opinion, that’s better than not thinking of it at all.
The Gift of “Extra” Time
I know how short life can be. I know how short my life almost was while I was going through cancer treatment and all the complications I faced. Because of that, I know this is all “extra.” I know I’m lucky to be here at all, and lucky to be healthy and able-bodied.
So, I don’t wait. I’m doing my passion projects now. I spend my time exactly the way I want and with whom I want. I don’t care about titles and money and prestige. Those things were meaningless when I was lying in a hospital bed surrounded by the whirring of breathing machines hoping to live to see the sunrise the next day.
All I wanted then was my dog and my friends. That’s it. That’s all I want now, too. Instead of chasing a title, I choose work that brings me joy. Instead of prestige, I choose the creative projects that might never make a dime but make me feel alive.
The Heartbreaking Truth
Since that hospital stay, my soul dog and several of my friends and family members have passed away. The time with them was too brief. We never, ever get enough time with those we love. That is the powerful and heartbreaking truth of life: It is never long enough, no matter how long it is.
My wish for all of us as we head into a new year is that we don’t wait another second to live a life we love. Do exactly what you want to do right now and every day you have. Don’t wait on passion projects. Don’t wait on love—for yourself, the beings you care about, and your community.
Don’t wait for “someday.” None of us have that luxury.
The moon and the stars through the trees. Image by Christa Avampato.
Tonight, as we usher in the longest night of 2025, may we give ourselves the permission and grace to rest. Yes, the light begins to return slowly and surely as we move forward. But before us tonight lies the gift of darkness.
It is a time for dreaming, for reflecting, for remembering. It allows the light to shine brightest—from stars, from the moon, and from the people around us. Just as stars require the dark to be seen, we often find the best in others and ourselves during the darkest times. When confronted with difficulty, we rise to help each other.
We cannot get through this life alone. Relationships are the center of everything. Love is the center of everything.
This winter, I wish you peace. As the daylight grows, I hope the light within you and the light within me grows, too.
Christa Avampato 