My Year of Hopefulness - The Center

"The artists' role is to do what's honest for them. So if you're in New York and everyone is looking at the floor, you can look up. It's not your role to follow the others. It's your role to go to your center and then reflect that, not just to be a mirror to what's happening." ~ James Hubbell

Here is a tricky balance to keep: how can we be mindful of what's happening around us and also learn to follow our own hearts? It's easy to get swept up in the moment, in the emotions and circumstances of others. In its best form, we know this as empathy. In its worst form, we know this as distraction. How can we see the whole picture, and also our own role in it? How can we see both the forest and the trees? The role of the artist, in any medium, demands this balance, and that balance is our Center.

Our Center is an elusive thing. We clearly know when we have moved away from our Center: it's apparent in our lack of energy, enthusiasm, and joy. Finding and holding the Center, particularly in our daily adventures in chaos, is a tough thing because it sometimes requires that we disappoint others to be true to ourselves. It requires that we believe in ourselves and in our own abilities more than we believe in anything else. It asks us to take our future into our own hands.

There are three ways to know if we've found our Center:
1.) It makes time pass by so quickly and effortlessly that we barely notice how long we've been there.

2.) The activities we perform at our Center give us energy and we never grow tired of them.

3.) Our Center is the summation of the very best gifts we have to offer to the world.

For me, my Center is found in writing and yoga. I've been writing daily for three and a half years, and intermittently as far back into my childhood as I can remember. I've had a steady yoga practice for 10 years. Time has flown! These activities give me boundless energy and let me show my most joyful face to the world.

And so, I am taking James Hubbell's: in 2010, I will go to my Center and reflect what is there. By the time 2010 is singing its swan song, I'll find a way to make writing and yoga the Center of my life. I'll find a way to earn my living through them. The 'fierce urgency of now' is calling me far too clearly to spend my life any other way.

My Year of Hopefulness - Chasing Down Inspiration

"You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club." ~ Jack London, author

Before 2009, I used to think of inspiration a something that just hits us. I kept a folder of inspirational pictures, stories, quotes, and clippings that I trolled through when I needed some uplifting thoughts and none seemed to find me. I believed in writer's block and the mystical muse of creativity who decided if, when, and how to show up in our lives. No more. After a year of actively seeking out hope and writing about it every day, I believe in the Jack London method, my inspiration-chasing club always at the ready.

In New York City, we're lucky that chasing down inspiration means just putting on a pair of shoes and walking outside our doors. Inspiration is everywhere. We have a host of amazing museums that I visit frequently (thanks to my employer's fantastic perk that gets us into almost every museum in New York for free!) Central Park and Riverside Park are two blocks away from my apartment. Broadway, off-Broadway, and off-off Broadway are burgeoning with some of the most inventive work to come along in decades. Bookstores are on nearly every corner, and there is no shortage of fascinating lectures, readings, and continuing ed classes in every subject, at every level. And if all else fails, just take a walk around the block, any block. You're sure to find some characters.

In other cities, some much smaller than New York, inspiration abound as well. In Orlando, Florida, I found the largest collection of Tiffany glass in the world. In Charlottesville, Virginia, I had some of the best meals of my life. In my own hometown of Highland, New York, the view from the Catskill Mountains still takes my breathe away. In Providence, Rhode Island, I saw one of the finest productions of Moon for the Misbegotten that I've ever seen.

Inspiration is everywhere - all we need to do is get out into the world and look. We can travel thousands of miles from home, or we can hang around in our own backyard. What matters is the pursuit: do we want to be inspired and are we willing to "sift the sands of the desert to see what we can find," as Clarissa Pinkola Estes says so eloquently in Women Who Run with the Wolves? If the answer is yes, then there are adventures upon adventures just waiting for us to hope on board. And if you can get your hands on a big club, that may help, too.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Writing Ourselves Free

"Words do not label things already there. Words are like the knife of a carver: They free the idea, the thing, from the general formlessness of the outside. As a man speaks, not only is his language in a state of birth, but also the very thing about which he is talking." ~ Inuit Wisdom

Today I finished up the book The Soul of Money by Lynne Twist, and the Inuit quote above kicks off one of the last chapters. So many of her ideas about money helped me to reconsider the role of money in my life, both when I was very young and had no money and now when I have a well paying job. Her words helped me to see money as just another form of energy which we can utilize to shape the world around us. In her words I was able to make peace with finance, a difficult thing to do in our consumer-driven, debt-ridden culture.

Words are powerful tools not just for communicating ideas, but also to form them. So often I come to a blank screen on my computer, unsure of what I'll write or where my writing will lead. Over time, I've learned to trust the process of writing the way that a carver trusts his knife. In my imagination there is always a story waiting to be told, similar to the figure that is within a slate of marble. The skill of the writer or artist releases the form.

I'm now weeks away from meeting my goal of writing about hope every day for a year. I started this journey as someone who felt let down by the world, someone who was worried about her future. Now that I have spent nearly 365 days actively seeking out what's hopeful in our society, I am emerging from my quest with a confident, revitalized soul. I wrote myself free form the burden of worry.

So often we think a lack of commitments frees us. We give up relationships, jobs, materials goods, and tasks in pursuit of greater flexibility and freedom. And sometimes that works. Though before I give up anything or anyone, I remind myself of Willa Cather's quote in O Pioneers! - "Freedom so often means that one isn't needed anywhere." I want my freedom to mean that I choose to do everything in my life, not that I am forced to do something which I don't want to do. My writing frees me because it lets me express what I'm feeling, and gives me the opportunity to connect with others. I've found that my connections to others frees my own heart rather than binding it up.

I found my writing voice not by closing down and shutting off, but by opening up to the experiences of the world and making the commitment to come here to this blog every day and share those experiences. I became a better writer by committing to the craft. I think life is shockingly similar to writing in this way - we live it better by practicing, by stepping out and stepping up, by committing our heart to others and to the world around us. And as we do this, I hope we'll all take some time and write it all down. Having the courage to tell others our own stories ironically frees them to do the same.

The photo above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Your One Wild and Precious Life

Long a mainstay of college admissions processes and orientations, I recently heard about the poem The Summer Day by Mary Oliver. (I've pasted it at the bottom of this post.) My sister, Weez, tells me that it is my great hope in life to be employed as a professional student. She's right.

I am a sucker for places that make us dream big, that push us beyond our limits, that stretch our imaginations and minds in ways that we never thought possible. I am a forever student, very much at home in the classroom wherever that classroom happens to be, whether I am up front teaching or happily seated in the front row soaking up all that glorious information like a sponge. So of course the big questions are my very favorites, and Mary Oliver hits on what may be my favorite question yet: "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" Isn't that gorgeous? Makes me want to print it out 1,000 times and plaster it all over my neighborhood.

This week I have had new options unfolding for me every day. Just when I think I am set upon a course of action, some other wonderful possibility falls into my path to consider. I think I'm being tested (which is fine by me since students love tests.) I think I'm being shown a way to focus on exactly what field in life gets me most excited, education, and then also being offered a myriad of distractions that are testing my passion for it. Mary Oliver's question is like a beacon in the haze. What if we looked at every option that's thrown our way, what if we considered every road before us with this lens. What if we made choices by asking "is this what you want to do with your one wild and precious life (knowing that our lives are so short)?"

The very thought of this takes my breathe away. Our lives are so short. We have such little time here, making every day a wild and precious thing. So here is my answer to Mary Oliver, no matter how many days I have left:

To write courageously and passionately so that it stirs the hearts and imaginations of others

To give children every where the chances that I had to improve my own lot in life through education, dedication, and very hard work

To lift others up as I rise

To generate more kindness, compassion, and generosity in the world

To take these two wild and precious hands and build things that have value and meaning, for me and for many others

To travel far and wide, to experience other cultures, to see new scenery, to meet as many citizens of the world as possible

And, yes, every day I want to be both a teacher and a student

The Summer Day

by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Everyone Can Draw

"If you think you can't draw, too bad. Do it anyway." ~ Tim Brown, CEO of IDEO, in his book Change by Design

I've been lamenting for some time that I can't draw. I'm a much better writer than visual artist, and this is exacerbated because I am an auditory learner, not a visual learner. Thank that's weird? You're right - auditory learners make up only 20% of the population. Add it up and it's easy to understand why I don't have any natural ability to draw, nor have I ever really had a desire to learn.

And then I read Tim Brown's excellent book, Change by Design, that explains his philosophy on design-thinking and the future of the field. He talks about mind maps, schematics that illustrate ideas though visual depictions rather than through written briefs or powerpoint presentations. This is a kind of drawing I can get into. Think of them as multi-dimensional tree diagrams blending pictures and words to illustrate ideas. Rather than just working left to right and using the basic construct of option A or B to progress from problem to solution, a mind map starts with a question that takes the form of "How might we ( fill in the blank)?" for a specific population. For my program with Citizen Schools, I will be asking the kids I work with to solve this dilemma with a mind map "How might we build a public school curriculum for the graders to encourage creativity and entrepreneurship?"

As so often happens, as I was reading Tim's book, I saw an interview with another Tim whom I greatly admire, Tim Burton. He was discussing his views on drawing and creativity and echoed Tim Brown's sentiment. "Every child believes he or she can draw. Too many adults have found their creativity beaten out of them." And this brings me back to my long-held belief that I have only just begun to fully articulate: it is much easier (and effective) to help children maintain their creativity through to adulthood than it is to repair the confidence of adults who believe they have no creativity at all.

The truth is that I've lost confidence in my ability to draw, believing that my creativity is relegated to writing and developing products and not at all to drawing. The Tims helped me realize that I am selling myself short. Somewhere inside me is a visual artist of some sort yearning for a paint brush (or crayon or chalk or colored pencil) and a canvas (or piece of paper or blank wall or empty piece of sidewalk).

So here I go with another resolution to live a more authentic life: even if it's not good, I'm going to draw a little bit every week with the help of my mind maps. I'll let you know, or better yet I'll show you, how it goes by publishing the pieces to this blog. Stay tuned as I re-teach myself to draw.

The image above is not my own; I'm just starting to draw so my pictures aren't this good - yet. It is the image created by Tim Brown for the table of content of his book Change by Design. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - The future's arrived

"The future is here. It's just not widely distributed yet." ~ William Gibson, author of Neuromancer

The future is a funny thing. It can surprise us. It can frighten us and delight us. When it unfolds, we understand its logic though in the moment it seems to completely confuse us. It's true of the larger world's future and of our own personal futures, too.

As Weez, Lorelei, and I were heading to the Glass Garden at the Rusk Institute today, I was telling them about my plans for school and work and every other aspect of my life that I could think of for the foreseeable future. It all seemed to make so much sense, even though only several weeks ago nothing really seemed to make sense at all. It seems that so much is falling into place, as if I had these little pieces and the slots they fit into all along; I just wasn't sure how to configure them until now.

When I think about the next year of my life, all of my projects seem to be falling into the time line in a startling beautiful pattern. It's as if the future is already here, that it has been here for some time. It just took me a while to see it for myself. A few things in my life needed to be cleared away, things that were distracting me. At the time, I didn't even know those things were distractions. I didn't even know that they needed to go but the world knew. My future knew what I needed to keep moving forward.

Lately my body has gotten into the unfortunate habit of waking up at 4am on the nose every morning so I try to make that time useful. When this happens, I stare out the window at the water towers. I have a glass of milk. Some times I do some easy yoga poses and I think about my future. I try to think of an image that calms me down and lulls me back to sleep.

Recently, I've been imagining myself as a high diver in the form of a Maxfield Parrish painting. I face this beautiful forest as I stand at the very edge of a cliff. I raise my arms and face up to the sun, I bend my knees, and I jump. Rather than falling to the Earth, the wind catches me and I float under a sky of beautiful colors. I've been thinking of the forest as all of the experiences I've had to date and the beautiful colors of the sky as my future. Those colors have yet to fully take shape, though their very beginnings have certainly arrived.

The painting above depicts "Mountain Ecstasy" by Maxfield Parrish.

My Year of Hopefulness - Walking with Faith Through Egypt

"For we walk by faith, not by sight." ~ 2 Corinthians 5:7

I went to the Egyptian Galleries today at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I've been doing a little bit of fiction writing and needed to collect some research on Egypt. I suppose I could have could just looked it up on-line though it was a gorgeous day, I wanted to walk through the park, and there is not substitute for seeing the treasures of Egypt right in front of us.

The Egyptian Galleries are well-known as one of the favorite attractions for kids to the Met. The fiction piece I'm writing is actually for a young adult audience so I must admit that a little of my motivation was some good eaves dropping. Kids, of course, were fascinated by the mummies. "There's a dead person in there?" I heard numerous times. Followed invariable by the parents saying "yes" and the kids responding "cool". (For the record, that was my response in my mind, too.) They also loved the myriad of figurines, depictions of dogs, and all the fancy gold jewelry that literally glowed within the display cases. I easily saw a dozen kids striking a pose that matches the many Egyptian etchings that lined the walls of the galleries. I wanted to do that too, though I knew it wouldn't be as endearing an act for a 33 year old as it is for a 10 year old, so I held myself back.

To write fiction, we have to hang out with our characters, walk around with them, see the world through their eyes as well as our own. In this action, there are bits of dialogue that surface. We learn about the experiences of our characters the same way we get to know a new friend or someone we've just started dating. A little at a time, we learn where they've been, what they've seen, and where they hope their lives will go. I just walk beside them silently, recording everything.

There's a lot of faith involved in writing fiction. At the top of a blank page, we're never quite sure where we'll end up by the time we reach the bottom of that page. We have to be generous and patient and let the story unfold naturally, taking comfort that it will go exactly the way it's supposed to. It's a mystical process.

Our lives are kind of like fiction writing, too. We might have some kind of basic outline for what we'd like to do and where we'd like to go, though the details of how we color in the lines is largely spontaneous. We meet new and interesting characters along the way, we veer off in many different directions, take advantage of one opportunity and then pass on another. We travel, we experience, we remain open to things that are new and strange and beautiful. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I see that living life really is exactly like writing fiction. We fumble around in the dark, not knowing exactly what is in front of us, forging ahead with only the faith and belief that the road we're on is exactly where we are meant to be. All we must do is be present. The story, and our very lives, will unfold around us.

The Journal of Cultural Conversation - Pray the Devil Back to Hell

Exciting news over in TJCC-land! Laura, my brilliant friend and writing partner as well as the mastermind behind The Journal of Cultural Conversation, is working on a front-end re-design for the site that will be up within the week. We're also working on a re-branding effort as well, though again, Laura must take 99% of the credit here. I'm just lucky to have a role on the virtual stage next to her.

My latest post on TJCC is up today! I was on a brief hiatus as I dealt with some personal issues and am now back, fully present. This one is about the documentary Pray the Devil Back to Hell and it goes something like this:

“There will come a time when you believe that everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” ~ Louis L'Amour

A few weeks ago I attended a screening of Pray the Devil Back to Hell, a documentary that tells the story of the how the women of Liberia ended the civil war that ravaged their country for well over a decade. Donning identical white t-shirts, no weapons, 2500+ women linked arms and made their opinions and demands known, loudly and publicly, week after week, until Charles Taylor and the warlords sat down together.

For my full post about this film, please visit http://www.thejcconline.com/2009/10/pray-devil-back-to-hell.html

My Year of Hopefulness - The Life We Receive Without Asking

"Our plans are nothing compared to what the world so willingly gives us." ~ Margaret Wheatley

"Never tell everything at once." ~ Ken Venturi, American former professional golfer

On Saturday evening, I headed across Central Park toward the Metropolitan Museum of Art. As I crossed the park, I passed between the southern border of the Great Lawn and Belvedere Castle. It's one of my favorite little pieces of New York City. There's some sort of happy air that exists in that little triangle; it's impossible to resist smiling there. I always feel romance and unending possibility as I traverse that ground. It was late afternoon so the sun was just streaming over Belvedere, the clover and honeysuckle filled the air with a perfume that I wish could be bottled, and there was a soft breeze. For those few moments, everything felt perfect.

On Friday and Saturday nights the Met is open until 9:00pm so I wanted to take advantage of the extended hours. I checked in on my friends Vermeer and Rodin, stopped by to visit the empires of Northern Mesopotamia, and spent some time among the folk artists of Oceania. It's almost inconceivable how lucky we are to be able to walk among so many priceless pieces of art at a moment's notice.

At the Met I was on a little bit of a mission. I've been working on some children's fiction over the last few weeks. Every day that I sit with my characters, they tell me something new about themselves. In a way, creating characters is like getting to know a new friend. I uncover little pieces about them over time, just by sitting with them and letting them tell me their story. Every day I'm reminded of Julia Cameron's book The Artist's Way, when she says "Art is not about thinking something up. It is the opposite -- getting something down." While I have a general map for the story, the characters themselves are just letting me tag along on their journey. The characters themselves will provide a far richer, more intriguing story than I could ever plan. That's the great joy and magic of writing.

As I was wondering through the Greek and Roman Galleries, the art of Cyprus, and the rooms full of knights in shining armor, a lot of ideas were drifting in and out of my mind. I dutifully wrote them all down - bits of dialogue and thoughts and twists and turns in the plot. After recording them all, I stopped to wonder if they made sense. And then I realized the characters I'm writing about can actually do anything they want. Writing fiction is a little daunting for this very reason - all of a sudden the possibilities are wide-open. When you're just getting something down, there are no more limitations. Writing fiction may present our one and only opportunity for complete and total freedom.

While I went through Central Park and to the Met to accomplish something specific, I found something far greater in both places than I had intended. These experiences reminded me that the world has great plans for us, far greater plans that we have for ourselves. And while not having control may at first seem frightening, in many ways it's as freeing as writing fiction. Unexpected, incredible circumstances, people, places, and opportunities are going to appear in our lives through no effort of our own. All we need to do to receive them is to show up with an open heart, an accepting mind, and the willingness to listen. If we can do this, the magic that is all around us becomes an unlimited and constant presence in our lives.

My Year of Hopefulness - A letter to October

Sweet October,

Thank you for arriving. I had enough of September and all the trouble she brought my way. A fire that threatened to trap me inside, claiming my home and most of my belongings with smoke, and then lost my dear sweet dog. A sad, sad month.

Now you've arrived and I'm so glad to see you, old friend. You are my favorite month because you bring the start of my very favorite season - holiday time. On Halloween two of my very good friends will be getting married and I'll be celebrating with them as a beautiful and joyous way to kick off these last few months of the year.

Even better, you'll bring a visit from my sister, my very best friend, along with my brother-in-law, and toddling niece who is one of the greatest joys of my life. We'll go up to see the rest of my family where we can pick apples and pumpkins and run through corn mazes together. We'll laugh together and play together and cook together. It's a vacation I need so much as this heart of mine sets about healing itself and my soul takes a much needed break from the events of September.

And let's not forget the vibrant, bold colors you decorate all of the trees with. Soon I'll be jogging underneath a great umbrella of gold and orange and red, thankful for the cool breezes that rustle the leaves and clear my head. My mind is weary and it needs to see nothing but beauty to right itself again.

Taking inspiration from your expert paint palette, I begin this month at the very bottom of my own blank canvas. I imagine that I'm very small and the canvas is very big. I'm looking up at it, holding my paint brush with so many gorgeous colors to choose from. I'll dab a little here, and dab a little there, only the colors that make me happiest, painting only the things that make my heart sing. October, you will witness someone shining through the sadness and disappointment and frustration and loss. Someone rejuvenated and smiling. And that someone will be me.

Thank you for coming to my rescue. Thank you for welcoming me in with a warm hug and a kind and understanding ear. Thank you for letting me lay down my troubles at your feet and walk on through your days to live my best life yet. I promise I'll repay you with a painting more magnificent than anything I ever thought these two small hands of mine could make.

My Year of Hopefulness - Demolition Depot

On Saturday I took the bus up to East 125th Street to a place that's fascinated me for some time. About 6 months ago, I was coming back from LaGuardia Airport on the M60 bus and went by a store with a strange looking sign that read "Demolition Depot". At first I thought it may be a construction (or rather destruction) company. I imagined backhoes and front-loaders and items like that inside. But the shape of the building didn't seem to fit that kind of business. I went home and Googled it to find that it is a place that houses dismantled building treasures from 5 continents. It is the dream house of many a film art director, or a writer like me. This is where old New York (and every other major city for that matter) finds a home for what remains. Inside its wall are thousands of stories waiting to be told.

I went up there today on a little writing adventure. I've been working on a fiction piece and thought that a trip to Demolition Depot may help jog some kind of inspiration. It did not disappoint. It reminded me of an old, 4-story barn. The smell of the place brought a smile to my face - musty and oddly comforting. I picked up a clipboard with an inventory form just in case I found some artifact that I wanted to take back with me.

My favorite spot of all was the garden, an area out back that houses giant gates and doors and wrought-iron screens - exterior pieces that on the street we would have to admire from afar. Here I could get up close and examine their details, every twist, turn, and adornment. Gargoyles and ornamentation and stained glass windows that took my breathe away. Who lived among these items? Where did they go? What did they do? What did they learn?

I felt as if I was walking through someone's house, as if I was trespassing and wasn't supposed to be there. I just loved it so much that I couldn't turn away. I just spent hours weaving through the four floors and the garden. Taking pictures, making notes, even sitting at some of the table settings, two of which I immediately loved and wanted for my home.

The trip accomplished exactly what I had hoped. I walked away with images and ideas that will be cropping up in my writing for many months to come. I understand that material items are of little value when compared to the value of personal relationships in our lives. What I appreciate about the one of a kind items housed at Demolition Depot is that they have borne witness to extraordinary and ordinary events of the lives of thousands of people. People passed through those doors, looked out from those windows, told time by those great giant clocks that now lay in wait for some lucky new owner. A majestic treasure trove of history just waiting to be remembered and re-told.

My Year of Hopefulness - Daniel Ellsberg and John Dean

On Tuesday night I attended an event at the New York Society of Ethical Culture. The event was a talk moderated by Ann Beeson, Executive Director for U.S. Programs at the Open Society Institute and former Associate Legal Director at the ACLU. She interviewed Daniel Ellsberg and John Dean on the eve of the release of a documentary entitled The Most Dangerous Man in America: Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers. Judith Ehrlich and Rick Goldsmith, the film makers, were in attendance as well. I'm looking forward to seeing it some time soon, and you should, too. We all should. While its set around the events of the 1970s, its moral implications are just as relevant today.

From the moment the footage began to role, my eyes started to tear up. With scenes of the massive amounts of missiles that we poured into Vietnam, 7.8M tons, it was hard to not consider all that we have been doing in Afghanistan and Iraq for years. And while the specific circumstances and players may differ, the outcome is likely to be the same. Innocent people are placed in the line of fire, and harmed. Those people are looked at as casualty numbers, the equivalent of statistics in some government report. In truth, those people are someone's parent, sibling, child, friend, neighbor, lover. And after years of watching the news night after night, watching the death tolls climb higher and higher, I can't find a logical reason to have incurred any of those losses.

Daniel Ellsberg and John Dean, government insiders, stood up once they realized that we could not win in Vietnam, once they had proof in black and white, via the Pentagon Papers, that there was no morally, ethically, or even legally correct reasoning for our occupation of Vietnam. At great personal peril, they risked everything, even their own freedom, their own lives, to reveal these findings. It would have been easier, far easier, to turn a blind eye - at least in the short run. In the long run, they just didn't feel like they could live with themselves if they didn't release the classified information they had that showed the fallacy of the war. They saved, literally, thousands, tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands, of lives by standing up with every odd stacked against them. Their courage is immeasurable.

As I sat in the audience I considered the bravery and fear these men must have had for years, how they risked everything of personal value for the good of the world. It was completely humbling to be in their presence. The most fascinating piece of the talk was the last question they answered: "What would you say to other potential whistle blowers out there who are contemplating taking the path you took?" John Dean couldn't recommend it. Daniel Ellsberg asked those people to seriously consider taking the same road he took. I left understanding both of their points of view, wondering what I'd do, what my friends would do, if faced with similar circumstances.

I fell asleep Tuesday night thinking about the Dalai Lama's letter to the world after September 11th. We later found out that he didn't write the letter at all; it was a hoax written by someone else who was very concerned that in the wake of the attacks, we would find ourselves entering a deadly war that we could not win. The author may have felt that it had more relevance coming from the Dalai Lama; perhaps the author felt more people would listen to its reason. Perhaps that person didn't have the ability or the knowledge to be as courageous as Daniel Ellsberg and John Dean. No matter; the author's intention was the same - he or she felt compelled to stand up, speak up, and try to encourage others to do the same.

The letter is a beautiful one and bears repeating. I still cry when I read it; it's that powerful. It's reproduced below and can also be found on the website of The Government of Tibet in Exile. Daniel Ellsberg and John Dean seized the time of their teaching. I wonder if we will have the courage to seize ours, too, not just in issues of war but in issues of every day life as well.

"Dear friends around the world,

The events of this day cause every thinking person to stop their daily lives, whatever is going on in them, and to ponder deeply the larger questions of life. We search again for not only the meaning of life, but the purpose of our individual and collective experience as we have created it-and we look earnestly for ways in which we might recreate ourselves anew as a human species, so that we will never treat each other this way again.

The hour has come for us to demonstrate at the highest level our most extraordinary thought about Who We Really Are. There are two possible responses to what has occurred today. The first comes from love, the second from fear.

If we come from fear we may panic and do things -as individuals and as nations- that could only cause further damage. If we come from love we will find refuge and strength, even as we provide it to others.

This is the moment of your ministry. This is the time of teaching. What you teach at this time, through your every word and action right now, will remain as indelible lessons in the hearts and minds of those whose lives you touch, both now, and for years to come.

We will set the course for tomorrow, today. At this hour. In this moment. Let us seek not to pinpoint blame, but to pinpoint cause. Unless we take this time to look at the cause of our experience, we will never remove ourselves from the experiences it creates. Instead, we will forever live in fear of retribution from those within the human family who feel aggrieved, and, likewise, seek retribution from them.

To us the reasons are clear. We have not learned the most basic human lessons. We have not remembered the most basic human truths. We have not understood the most basic spiritual wisdom. In short, we have not been listening to God, and because we have not, we watch ourselves do ungodly things.

The message we hear from all sources of truth is clear: We are all one. That is a message the human race has largely ignored. Forgetting this truth is the only cause of hatred and war, and the way to remember is simple: Love, this and every moment.

If we could love even those who have attacked us, and seek to understand why they have done so, what then would be our response? Yet if we meet negativity with negativity, rage with rage, attack with attack, what then will be the outcome?

These are the questions that are placed before the human race today. They are questions that we have failed to answer for thousands of years. Failure to answer them now could eliminate the need to answer them at all.

If we want the beauty of the world that we have co-created to be experienced by our children and our children's children, we will have to become spiritual activists right here, right now, and cause that to happen. We must choose to be at cause in the matter.

So, talk with God today. Ask God for help, for counsel and advice. For insight and for strength and for inner peace and for deep wisdom. Ask God on this day to show us how to show up in the world in a way that will cause the world itself to change. And join all those people around the world who are praying right now, adding your Light to the Light that dispels all fear.

That is the challenge that is placed before every thinking person today. Today the human soul asks the question: What can I do to preserve the beauty and the wonder of our world and to eliminate the anger and hatred-and the disparity that inevitably causes it - in that part of the world which I touch?

Please seek to answer that question today, with all the magnificence that is You. What can you do TODAY...this very moment? A central teaching in most spiritual traditions is: What you wish to experience, provide for another.

Look to see, now, what it is you wish to experience-in your own life, and in the world. Then see if there is another for whom you may be the source of that. If you wish to experience peace, provide peace for another. If you wish to know that you are safe, cause another to know that they are safe.

If you wish to better understand seemingly incomprehensible things, help another to better understand. If you wish to heal your own sadness or anger, seek to heal the sadness or anger of another.

Those others are waiting for you now. They are looking to you for guidance, for help, for courage, for strength, for understanding, and for assurance at this hour. Most of all, they are looking to you for love.

My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness."

My Year of Hopefulness - Dreaming in Bits and Pieces

“The end of wisdom is to dream high enough to lose the dream in the seeking of it." ~ William Faulkner, American novelist

Now that life is returning to normal, I’m turning my attention back to my education project. I’m in the early stages of contacting public schools to find one that will serve as a pilot test. In a nutshell, I am looking to use theatre as a tool to teach innovation and product development to 6th graders at New York City public schools. The program will be of no cost to the school or to the children who participate. I just need a space, an internet connection (if possible), and 10 curious 6th graders. I would personally finance the pilot. The idea is to run it for 12 weeks beginning in January of 2010.

At this point I’ve had about 15 people read the proposal and provide their feedback and suggestions. Their creativity and excitement has spurred me even further. They’re helping me dream bigger, far beyond the pilot. Just as Faulkner suggested, this thinking bigger has allowed me to move beyond just seeing this program as a dream. It’s something that I must do. It’s quickly becoming my greatest passion, and that’s exactly what I need to happen in order to get it off the ground.

For the past few days, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. Things I see and experience and read are all tying back to this dream. This morning I was so excited about it that I could barely stay in my chair at my computer. I’m getting little inputs from everywhere – what schools I could partner with, what material I should include, what mechanisms I should use to deliver the material. Like small interconnected building blocks, all these bits and pieces are fitting together, filling in the canvas I’m dreaming on.

The more I consider the pilot program, the more I realize that it is inevitable. All the clues I’m picking up are showing me that there is much more need for this program than I ever realized. It began as this tiny speck of an idea, and the more I nurture it and love it, the more new opportunities it presents. It’s the most beautiful thing about ideas and dreams, and people for that matter: the more care you put into them, the more understanding and freedom you provide to them, the lovelier and more viable they become. They reveal mysteries to you that you never even knew were possible.

The image above is not my own. It can be found on the Cardiomyopathy Association site.

My Year of Hopefulness - Value we can't see

A week ago, I found myself in Barnes & Noble nosing around in the children's fiction department. In order to begin working on the scripts for my education program, I wanted to get a feel for a 6th grader's vocabulary, sentence structure, and plot complexity. I was wandering around the store feeling underwhelmed. Where were all of the good children's books?

And then just as I was leaving a small set of books caught my eye. Published by Scholastic, Blue Balliett wrote a set of kids mystery books that involve several main characters that carry over in the series. I picked up The Wright 3, a book about three 6th grade friends who find themselves in a race to save the Robie House, Frank Lloyd Wright's Chicago masterpiece, from demolition. I found it oddly comforting over this last week because of several key messages it offers in a very forthright fashion - just the way that kids do.

1.) "Don't give up. In darkness, much work can be accomplished." I think about how much darkness was in that stairwell of my old apartment building during the fire. So much raced through my mind as I scrambled down the stairs - from "stop drop and roll" to things I never got a chance to say people whom I care about to "I will get out of this building unharmed". In darkness, we develop a keen sense of sight and insight for things that we cannot see in broad daylight.

2.) "Sometimes when you lose something, you end up getting something else. Only you can't know about the second thing until you've lost the first...losing is sometimes gaining." It's human nature to lament a loss of any kind whether it's our home, our belongings, our jobs, a relationship. What's so often under-appreciated is that losing something makes room for something new, and often better than what we had before, and it gives us a new appreciation for the things and people we do have in our lives. It takes a while to see that trade-off as a good one. In the past I have hung on to a sense of loss for far too long. I am trying to change that.

3.) "It's sometimes hard to tell the line between real and unreal." This world and the energies it contains work in mysterious ways. Magic and things that cannot be explained are constantly at work. Our life is full of coincidences. People appear in our lives, then disappear, then reappear again. An opportunity comes around, we may pass on it, and then it comes around again for a second and third chance. This world always has something to teach us.

4.) "Sometimes little things can appear big, and big things little." This idea is especially powerful for me this week. I used to think I needed so many things. My apartment was filled with things I loved, things I could not imagine living without. In the end very little of it mattered. Actually, none of it really matters too much. My health and the people I love are really the only things that matter to me now.

5.) "What you notice first isn't always what you're looking for." This is my favorite idea from The Wright 3. We're so quick to judge, categorize and title a person, place, or thing. And sometimes the value we connote to an item or a person isn't permanent. Some things and people become more valuable to us with time, and it can be a long, slow process to figure out just what the right value should be. We owe it to ourselves to give things and people a chance to prove their worth. The reality of a situation is not always what it initially presents itself to be.

My Year of Hopefulness - A New Lease on Life

Today I went into my old apartment for the next to last time. I was there with the insurance adjuster and the movers. I marked what things I hoped they could salvage, they boxed it up, and took it away for cleaning. At first it was a routine exercise though I'd be lying if I said I didn't tear up a little. It's a difficult thing to see all of your belongings damaged, things you worked so hard for, things that have sentimental value, things that connect you to people you love and times long ago. The severing of that tie, despite its materialistic nature, can be hard to bear.

The dry cleaners were supposed to be scheduled for today as well but there was an appointment mix-up so I'll just meet them tomorrow. They'll be there at 10:30 tomorrow morning and once that piece is done, I'll close the door for the last time on an apartment that I had high hopes for. I imagined dinner parties with friends, out-of-town guests, a little dog livening up the place. I'd be cooking in my eat-in kitchen, writing away. It was to be a little den of creativity for the next year. Instead it taught me the lesson of a lifetime - how precious and short every day is. We so often live close to the edge and don't even know it. One minute, I'm writing on my computer, buying iTunes songs ('Landslide' by Fleetwood Mac was downloading at the time the fire broke out), and then my kitchen floor is crackling and heaving the next moment. Life's funny that way. So unpredictable.

At 1:00 this afternoon, I signed the lease to my new apartment and by the kindness of the building managers I can move in immediately. The building was designed by Emery Roth, a renowned architect, whom I'd never heard of until this afternoon. He lived in the building for many years, just down the hall from me, in a 9-room apartment (much larger than mine!). He designed many well-known iconic residential structures in New York City including the El Dorado, the San Remo, and the Warwick Hotel. His firm, Emery Roth & Sons, continued on long after his death and designed many well-known New York City buildings including the World Trade Center (a little spooky that on 9/11 I'd sign a lease at a building designed and inhabited by the man whose firm designed the World Trade Center), the Bronx High School of Science, and the Hemsley Palace Hotel.

As the leasing VP if my new building said, "it's almost as if you were meant to end up here rather than your other apartment." At first I thought she was just saying that to make me feel better. Now, I'm wondering if there's more to her comment than just that simple, surface sentiment. According to Wikipedia, "The extensive architectural records and papers of both Emery Roth and Emery Roth & Sons are now held in the Department of Drawings & Archives at the Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library at Columbia University." Once I am settled in, I will have to pay that library a visit. There's some kind of story here, and now that the wheels of my mind are turning this way again, I know I'm well on my way to being my old self again, with an even greater appreciation for life and all of the mysteries it holds.

The photo above is not mine. It depicts the San Remo designed by Emery Roth. It can be found on Wired New York, an on-line community created by Edward Sudentas for people who love New York City art and architecture.

The Journal of Cultural Conversation: An interview with Hani, NYC's Famous Sidewalk Artist

A few weeks ago, I was on my way up to Harlem to do some research for an after-school program I’m hoping to launch in January. As I was walking up Broadway, I stopped to admire a painting that had been done of the sidewalk.

It depicted a smiling Barack Obama beside a very pensive Hillary Clinton. Scrawled next to the painting was a URL: http://www.hanisidewalkart.com/. I wrote down the site to look into at a later date.

Two weeks ago I moved into a new apartment, and the day after I moved in there was a large gathering of people in a circle across the street.

I thought for sure someone was hurt, signing autographs, proselytizing, or break-dancing – all common things in New York that draw large sidewalk crowds. None of the above.

There was Hani, painting Michael Jackson on the sidewalk.

This time, I went home immediately and looked up his website. I would have interviewed him right there on the spot, though didn’t want to disturb his creative flow. I emailed him and he wrote back that same evening to say he’d love to be featured on TJCC. His story and work are fascinating and I am enthralled with his art, much of which is showcased on the website. I’m very happy to share his remarkable talent with you. Please click here for the interview.

My Year of Hopefulness - Hope Grows

Today I went to the New Museum of Contemporary Art with my friend, Allan. There's a South African photography exhibit by David Goldblatt on display there that I wanted to see. On the third floor, the photographs are dire. "Is all of South Africa a desert, Christa?" Allan asked me. In the photos the land has been reduced to rubble, laid barren by years of struggle and negligence. "Where is the hope?" Allan asked.

We then made our way up to the fourth floor where there were a series of before and after photographs. Barren land had regrown some. South Africa seemed a little more green, not teeming with life, though certainly much improved. I felt a small flicker of hope.

I went to South Africa about 2 years ago and though I had a series of unfortunate incidents, I also had a set of really incredible circumstances that endeared me to that country and its people. I'm sure I'll return some day soon. While there seems to be no hope in the structures of shanty towns that can be found throughout the country, there is a great deal of strength and ambition in the eyes of South Africans. They seem to always be looking up and over, at something brighter and better in the distance.

The handful of before and after photographs got me to thinking about how hope and life can regenerate without any outside influence. The first law of thermodynamics involves the conservation of energy and it states that energy cannot be created nor destroyed. In Einstein's Theory of Relativity, he reveals to us that while the first law of thermodynamics holds true, energy can transform into mass, and vice versa. As I viewed the photos of South Africa, particularly the before and after photos, I thought about Einstein's theory and how it applies to broader circumstances outside of science.

It seems to me that the re-growth of life, mass, could be due to the fact that energy, hope, cannot be created nor destroyed. It just is, then, now, and always. While it may change forms and go into hiding from time to time, we can be sure that it is always there, available to us if only we have the insight to recognize it.

My Year of Hopefulness - Building a World Out of Creativity, Mistakes, and Art

“Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” ~ Howard Thurman

“Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.”
~ Scott Adams (Dilbert)

Both of these quotes were provided by my friend, Amanda Hirsch. Amanda is the author of Creative DC, a blog about living a creative life in DC. She found me online while looking for blogs about New York City. After clicking through to my resume, she found that we have just about all the same interests and graduated from the same university, the same year. (It's a big school so sadly we didn't meet way back when.)

It's these online connections to creative, inspiring people that keeps me writing. They make all this effort worthwhile. There are a plethora of interesting, engaging people out there, spread out all over the map. Writing online gives us a way to find each other.

And this brings me to the reason that Amanda's first quote really got to me. It would be very easy to just look around and see what the world needs, and then go make that. That's certainly a viable road to entrepreneurship. Trouble is that method doesn't necessarily get our internal motors running.

Running a business, heck writing a regular blog, takes an incredible amount of dedication and time. There are nights that I have to stay in and write, and I love that. When I'm writing, I don't feel like I'm missing out on doing something else. I'm passionate about this art form, and have made a conscious decision to become a better writer. That's going to take time. Point is, I didn't look around and say "what the world needs is another person to write about creativity." I'm interested in creativity and writing. They make me come alive - and me coming alive can go a long toward making the world around me a better place to be.

Finally, this point brings me to Amanda's second quote. There are a lot of times that a whole lot of nonsense flows from my keyboard. The wording is awkward. I can't turn a phrase properly. I have a tough time translating my thoughts into words that other people understand. I edit as much as I actually write. The creativity piece involves throwing down everything on the page. Forget about beauty and style and grace. Just get the thought down. Editing is the real art - knowing what to keep and what to toss away so that the necessary can speak.

Our world is built around creativity, mistakes, and art. From the buildings we occupy to the streets we walk to the businesses we frequent. These three things are inextricably intertwined. And while the result isn't perfect, it's beautiful and unique and interesting - exactly the way the world should be.

My Year of Hopefulness - Finishing what you've started

"Nothing is so fatiguing as the eternal hanging on of an uncompleted task." ~ William James

I have a hard time letting things go. I have to watch movies straight through to the end, no matter how bad they are. I have to finish every book I start. Nothing causes me to lose sleep more than tasks hanging around for me to finish tomorrow; hence my tremendous lack of sleep in a partially packed apartment. Why is it so troublesome to let things lie around undone?

It could be that I've read too many stories about people who didn't quite get to see their dreams realized. It could be that I've read that quote from John Lennon "Most people die with the music still in them" once too often. I don't want to look back and be so far away from something I started that it's too difficult to pick it up again.

We get to these points in our lives where we must go left or right and it's very hard to double back once we've made a choice. Not impossible, but certainly difficult. I'm there now. A lot of my friends are there now. Maybe this is the dilemma we find in our 30's. We are making choices now that impact every other choice down the line. We're deciding who we're going to become, how we're going to make use of our talents, how the world around us is going to be different because we passed this way instead of that way.

And while I have a natural instinct of which way to go at this fork in the road, the choice in my heart is a tough one. It's got some risks baked into it. It's not the safe route. Some times I think the choice in my heart isn't even the sane route to take. Then again, when has making the sane, safe choice ever lead me to complete fulfillment?

Today I went to a baby shower for my friend, Alex. One of her college friends made a critical choice to leave behind the business world and pursue her PhD in art history, thanks to Alex's encouragement. She loved art history early on in college and had given up her dream to work in that field to take the safe business route. Before it was too late, she went back to what she loved.

Every one of her professors told her this choice was ridiculous, that she was truly wasting her life in art history, that she'd never get a job. One of them actually told her that a degree in art history and a quarter wouldn't even get her a cup of coffee. Now she works in New York and helps corporations and nonprofits build their private art collections. Turns out that a degree in art history has earned her much more than a cup of coffee. It helped her earn a happy life. The rewards of finishing what she started and following her heart.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Velveteen Rabbit

My friend, Eric, got married this weekend. He is one of my closest friends from business school, someone who got me through many tough assignments and helped keep me sane. We also had a lot of fun together. I’m so happy that he found someone as wonderful as he is and that they’ve started their lives together.

The one reading that he and his new wife, Daphne, had at their wedding is from The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams. The quote considers the very pertinent question “What does it mean to be real?”

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day…

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes. When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

It is the perfect allegory for starting a relationship with someone that is based on love, and therefore the perfect reading for a wedding. It’s also the perfect thing to consider for our lives in general. Our lives, from beginning to end, are based on the art of becoming.

As we grow older we develop new interests and relationships and dreams. Some we accomplish, others die away without coming to fruition for one reason or another, and still others have yet to be found. The end process of becoming is to be real. Authentically, imperfectly, beautifully an individual who will never be replicated nor replaced.

The process of becoming takes patience, with ourselves and with others. It can’t be rushed. We can’t skip to the end to see how it turns out. We can’t work backwards and engineer our way into the best possible ending. It can only be created forward. There will be unexpected instances that must be folded into the process, some will be welcome changes, strokes of luck and genius, and others may be painful and sad. They all matter and all contribute to the piece of art, the life, we get in the end.

Becoming real is not easy. It takes work and perseverance, compromise and sacrifice. And it requires that we take the long-view, always. There will be moments of great triumph and great loss. Those losses are the risks we take and the price we pay for actively living and participating in the world around us, the risks and price for becoming real. And those triumphs and happy moments, big and small, are what make it all worthwhile.