Making Improvements

Belfast veggies 8Making Improvements, by Tasha Halpert

When I look at a situation it is often with an eye as to what can be done to improve it. I think I developed this habit at an early age because my dear mother was seldom satisfied with anything. She always seemed to have a suggestion for an improvement. Most likely I inherited my attitude from her. However, this is not a bad way to be, and I’m not complaining. Yet it’s not necessary to see a flaw or a need. Perhaps another way to think about that is to see what I might do in general to be of help or to make an improvement..

My late son Robin greatly enjoyed gardening. He loved the earth and felt very close to nature. Wherever he was living he would plant vegetables and carefully tend them. He was proud to feed himself from his efforts. In addition as do the Native Americans, he believed in leaving a gift at the site of any herb or vegetable that he harvested. He always gave back as much as he could. The size of the gift was not as important as the effort.

I was reminded of this as I thought about what someone recently said to me: “I believe in leaving the world a better place than I found it.” The speaker went on to tell me how he had learned this when he was around ten years old and had made an effort to practice it always. This conversation stayed with me for a time, and I considered ways I might make the world I lived in a better place–not because it was lacking but because I might add something.

Paying it forward is one way to make a positive difference. There are drivers who pay the toll of the person behind them, or those who pick up the tab for a stranger in a restaurant. Some businesses do a holiday practice where small gifts are given in secret. I have always enjoyed sharing little presents or passing on what I enjoy or find useful. One friend of mine liked to say a prayer when he left any seat where he sat: “May whoever sits here after me be blessed.”

It may be that sometimes we think that small gestures are not significant. I find it is surprising how a little effort can make a big effect. Smiling at people, for instance, or saying hello to people you might not know personally. Of course there are those who might look at you suspiciously, still, it is not possible to please everyone and if a person feels uncomfortable with a smile, perhaps they need more of them in their lives.

If I can’t use a grocery coupon I leave it where it may be found. I often pay a stranger a compliment. I look around for ways to bring unexpected joy when and where I can. If I see someone who needs help I offer mine. Small efforts like these are my way of adding something positive. Mother Teresa said it so nicely: “We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.”

Keeping My Eyes On theRoad

There is something about New England that is very special to me, and a large part of it has to do with the fall here. I grew up in a town (now) called Manchester by the Sea. Every year I anticipated the joy of the fall leaves and the crisp air that made me feel so good. A brief seven year stay in Virginia only confirmed my love of New England. I thought the weather there was much too bland. Happy to return, I have found this area to be a special place to live.

These days as I drive along Grafton’s scenic roads my eyes are drawn to the brilliant changes in the foliage. The green of summer has faded and grayed the leaves. Now the cool nights and days transform the landscape as the dusty pallor of early fall gives way to fresh reds and yellows. I can’t help ooing and ahing while I work to keep my focus on the road. I am grateful for the speed limit. It is easy to maintain it because I simply cannot drive faster and also gaze at the enthralling color.

I have loved the autumn ever since I was a young child. The smell of burning leaves–no longer common in these days of pollution control, as well as the sharp, damp smell of the brown, fallen leaves after a rain have always warmed my heart. I even enjoyed going back to school because it meant a change from being bored at home. Fall meant new things to learn and new books to read.

There are many reasons fall is my favorite season. I am grateful for the bountiful harvest of fruits and vegetables that it provides. I also enjoy the crisp air, the opportunity to wear a cozy sweater and scarf. Most of all, I love it for its rich palette of color. In some mysterious fashion each fall seems the most beautiful. It seems to me that every year the previous autumn pales in comparison to the one I am entranced by now. In addition as the days grow cooler, my mind grows sharper.

This increase in mental acuity helps me to be more mindful. Being mindful is vitally important, especially at this season, because it helps keep me focused. It is all too easy to be distracted when I am driving along past the colorful autumn vistas as they unfold before me. My attention could be caught and held–dangerous when I am driving a car.

The years Stephen and I have spent meditating have had many benefits, but most especially I value the beneficial impact meditation has had on our minds. Meditation as we practice it is a way of doing exercises for the mind. The time we spend working to stay focused is like lifting weights or doing sit ups, only for mental rather than physical strength. As I drive through the autumnal glory I am grateful not only for the beauty that fills my eyes, but also for the ability I have to keep my eyes on the road.Light Through Leaves

Spring Patterns

Spring crochets leaves onto branches,
stippling blue sky with green lace.

Pursed tulips await rain until sunshine
encourages petals to invite sun and bees.

Umbrella in hand, I shade my eyes
looking at the sky in speculation.

Birds crisscross skies cloudy to bright and back.
Spring is a both/and time of year.Image

Love, Grief, and Joy

There is a Hebrew saying that goes, if there were no grief to hollow out our hearts, where would there be room for joy? I would add, or compassion.

 

We learn about pain by feeling it ourselves.  We learn about grief and bereavement by losing loved ones. The lessons life has to teach may be harsh or gentle but those that teach compassion invariably revolve around a sense of loss.  Perhaps this is what is meant by the hollowing of the heart by grief. 

 

The sense of loss makes an emptiness where there has been fullness, aloneness where there was companionship.  When we feel these feelings we can cry for them, letting our tears soothe the pain and wash it away, or we can cry out against them and they will harden to rock within us and weigh us down.  What fills that hollow place is love.  But we must pour it out to our own selves

 

As we grow older, if we absorb and process our life experiences, we develop that part of us able to look with love and forgiveness at whatever life presents. Those who die and leave us behind help hollow our hearts.  As we let go the ache of missing the physical presence, it becomes easier to accept the loss.  Time is the best healer, and patience with ourselves. 

 

As I grow on in years, my losses

Leave larger holes behind;

in my life’s landscape, grief has been useful,

reminding me that all we have is now;

we had best enjoy it because it is a gift.

 

My grief is not a weight, nor a cloud,

it is not a blindfold hiding joy,

rather it is an ever giving spring

reminding me to look, to breathe, to know

that all life blooms and fades and love grows on.

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Photo and text by Tasha Halpert

Summer Solstice

From high in the sky
sun sinks slowly,
lengthening afternoons and evenings.
Time seems suspended.
Children’s days are long
and full of freedom.
For me, the dwindling has begun.
In ripening fruit
in scent of sun warmed grasses
in insect choruses
the beginning of the end sings

Tasha HalpertImage

Springing Open

Brilliant forsythia fingers

fling their exuberance

into the bright blue air.

Red budding twigs

holler “here I am, shine on me.”

Forsythia sunshine

fills my eyes, Maple flowers

jingle, “Welcome pollinating friends.”

Spring buds open everywhere

blossoming their way into summer.

By Tasha Halpert

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