Tag: poetry

creativity

Dr. Seuss can help us find our way

Christa Avampato
The Waiting Place – From Oh, the Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss

Does this sound familiar? It’s all you can do right now to just get from day-to-day in these weird, wild times. You’re unsure about what to do or where to go next. Your plans have fallen down in mid-flight. You worked so hard on something, harder than you’ve ever worked on anything your life, and still, it didn’t turn out as you hoped. Now, you’re just waiting.

If that strikes a chord, I want you to know you’re not alone. I feel like that most days at this particularly strange period in our history. I’m grateful for a lot of things in my life – my health, my friends, my home to name just a few. And I also find myself at a crossroads. Nothing seems clear. No matter which path I look down, I can barely see one pace in front of me. What I’d planned to do next and where I’d planned to go hasn’t panned out and maybe won’t for the next four years. I just don’t know what to do. I feel adrift. So, I’m just waiting.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been here. I’m sure it won’t be the last. Thinking about this conundrum, I was reminded of that sage of rhyme and reason, Dr. Seuss* and his setting of The Waiting Place. In his classic book Oh, the Places You’ll Go!, often given to people beginning a new chapter, the main character gets stuck.

“…Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.
Except when you don’t.
Because, sometimes, you won’t…
You’ll be left in a Lurch…
You’ll be in a Slump.
You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked…
You can get so confused
that you’ll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace…
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place…for people just waiting…”

To be honest, I get a little choked up when I read this book out loud. I understand the cycle of bang-ups and hang-ups that life brings. “Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.” That one really hits home for me right now when it feels like a lot of doors are being closed for so many people.

Luckily, Oh, the Places You’ll Go! doesn’t end in The Waiting Place and the path of the story has something to offer us in these times. Eventually our hero finds his way out of The Waiting Place and he’s moving along, riding high once again. Until…he takes another tumble, feeling very much alone and afraid. He nearly gives up. He keeps going because he doesn’t know what else to do. It isn’t fun to trudge through fear and despair, but it’s necessary. Eventually he finds his way, and learns life is “a Great Balancing Act.”

Re-reading this book helped me realize even though I may not be able to make progress according to the plan I created six months ago, there are other areas of my life where I can focus. I keep thinking about the best piece of advice I heard in 2024: “When you don’t know what to do, do what you know.”

Here’s what I know: I can pour my energy and time into my writing. I can test some entrepreneurial ideas. I can help nonprofits doing important, impactful work. I can spend more time with my friends and helping make New York City a better city for all. I can learn as much as possible right where I am and do as much good as possible with and for those around me. I can work on becoming the best me I can be so when the light returns, I’ll be able to take it all in.

On January 1st, I decided my word for 2025 would be “Rebuild”. I didn’t expect that word to be so on the nose so soon into the new year but here we are. Like an arrow being pulled back, in the tension, in the waiting, I can prepare myself to fly forward – eventually. This isn’t the path I intended to take, but I can still make the most of the journey.

*I acknowledge that Theodor Geisel made some horrible, racist choices with some of his art. The books that showcase that were rightly taken out of print by his estate, and I think he would have agreed that was the right thing to do. During his lifetime, he apologized for them and made amends for the harm he caused.

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

The season of soft things

Christa Avampato
My view on the train to Bristol, UK. Photo by Christa Avampato.

It is the season of soft things. Warm tea. Thick blankets. Crackling fires. Cozy sweaters. Candle light. Woollen socks. Hugs. Laughter. Kindness. Whispers. Dreams. The world seems especially hard right now, with sharp edges that cut and harm. I find myself craving comfort, ease, and quiet. Seeking out people who exude warmth, welcome, and joy.

Our world, especially our working world, often demands structure and immutable processes. Too often telling us what is and has been must continue to be. This relentless beat can make me tired and worn. It’s in these moments that I remind myself the value of flexibility, the ability to bend so we don’t break.

We so often prize efficiency and abhor redundancy, until we recognize that nature in all her glorious wisdom has survived and thrived for nearly 4 billion years because of her integrated systems that are stronger than the sum of the parts, with pieces that back up one another so that as a united whole they can weather the storms, accommodate change, and retain balance, even and especially in crisis. And there are always storms, and change, and crises.

Nature built herself to flex, to make room, to expect the unexpected, to support. What if that became our goal, for ourselves, our organizations, our government, our world? How then might be change, grow, evolve, and be? I suspect that in this season of soft things, I may find answers to those questions by the time the light of spring returns.

creativity

Joy Today: Mary Oliver

Christa Avampato

Yesterday the world lost Mary Oliver, a person who taught me how to write and how to live. Rest In Poetry, Mary. We will certain rest in yours.

Don’t Hesitate by Mary Oliver

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate.
Give in to it.
There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be.
We are not wise, and not very often kind.
And much can never be redeemed.
Still life has some possibility left.
Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world.
It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case.
Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty.
Joy is not made to be a crumb.

creativity

A Year of Yes: Why I gave up perfect

Christa Avampato

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.” ~Gilda Rader

The older I get, the more I’ve learned to love the imperfections of life and of people. The crooked path, the flaws, the messiness. Those things are what I remember. Those are the things that taught me what I needed to learn. Perfect hasn’t given me anything except anxiety and fear. Imperfect has given me possibility, opportunity, empathy, and compassion. Which would you prefer?

creativity

A Year of Yes: Trying my hand at some poetry with lessons learned

Christa Avampato

I’m trying out something new in my social media feeds – short poems about daily learnings. You can check them out on my Twitter and Instagram feeds. Here’s the one I put up yesterday:

What if you
could run hard
to the edge of the cliff,
take to the sky,
and fly?
Where would you go?
What would you do?
And why?
Me?
You’d find me
soaring higher, higher, and higher,
just to see how far I could go.
~CRA

 

creativity

A Year of Yes: Finding peace in a time of difficulty

Christa Avampato

The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

I’ve been thinking about this poem a lot lately. I’ve been listening to the anxiety and sadness of my friends, and of the world. I’m struggling a little to find the best ways to help as many people as I can, as well as I can. And sometimes that desire to help, that feeling that I’m just not doing enough to that end, overwhelms me. So a poem like this that reminds me to find comfort in nature, seen and unseen, and always felt, helps me breathe a little easier. Once I have my breath again, I can keep going, doing as much as I can with what I have. And knowing that that is enough.

creativity

A Year of Yes: The power of poetry

Christa Avampato

I haven’t written poetry in a very long time, and as I was walking to work this one popped into my mind. I don’t know where it came from, but I felt empowered as I wrote it down. I hope you feel empowered reading it.

Underestimation
Do not mistake my kindness for weakness,
or my desire to collaborate as an inability to lead.

I have been through the intense pressures of life and emerged bright, shiny, and polished.
Like clay in a kiln.
Like a buried diamond, now free.

Believe me when I say I stare into the fire and smile.

Do not underestimate me.

creativity

In the pause: The poetry of New York City

Christa Avampato

I was on the subway yesterday. The MTA has a set of poems that they’ve commissioned and post as part of their Poetry in Motion project. This one really struck me and I wanted to share it with you. It speaks straight to my heart. These lines capture exactly how I feel about New York. A sense of community, wonder, and individual empowerment line every inch of my beloved city. And let’s face it, nothing beats a Sunday in New York.

“All we want is a metropolis of Sundays, an empire of hand-holding and park benches. She says, ‘Leave it all up to me.'” ~ Major Jackson, Leave It All Up to Me

creativity

In the pause: Painting and poetry

Christa Avampato

“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.” ~Leonardo da Vinci

Inspired by a recent post on the Two Drops of Ink blog, this idea of the play between painting and poetry speaks loudly to me. I paint with paper through collage work. Whenever I’m stuck in my writing world, or just looking for a new medium to use a different part of my brain for a while, I turn to collage work. I’ve never been much of a visual artist, or at least I wasn’t until I started to do collage work. There is something so satisfying about cutting up tiny bits of paper and reconfiguring them as a way of painting a canvas. Art does have a story, and stories do have an art to them. I’m fortunate in my case that I love art as much as I love books, and I’m immensely happy that my book about Emerson Page honors this connection between all art mediums. Ultimately art in any form expresses what we feel and know in our hearts and souls. And by expressing and sharing those feelings, a part of us lives on far beyond our years.