Where Does the Time Go

dali-clocks

Five minutes or more of waiting can seem to stretch forever, yet when I am engaged in something pleasurable, the moments vanish quickly into wherever time goes. When I look back over the years, they telescope, yet I remember three months in El Paso that while I was living through them, seemed like three years. It is quite beyond my comprehension, and perhaps that is appropriate because after all time is something human beings invented.

Did they do this because life as they were living it needed dividing up in order to be made orderly? Or was it because people needed to make appointments? Or even because there needed to be some sort of way to know the when of things? There are books that will tell you when calendars were invented, and who invented them, and others that detail the kind of clocks that first measured it. I haven’t read any that have told me why.

Sometimes to me time resembles a big clump of jelly like stuff. I try to hold onto it but instead it squeezes through my fingers and disappears. Finding time, using time, saving time…all these are illusions generated by my wanting to accomplish what I want to do when I want to do it. Perhaps I need to think of time differently. If I focused on what needs doing rather than trying to find the time to do it would I manage better?

To be sure, I keep lists of the tasks I hope to accomplish right now or in the near future: phone calls to be made, deadlines for submissions, household tasks to be done. Then there are other items on my lists that do not have a time consideration: letters to be written, information to be googled, piles to sort through. It is these that seem to revolve endlessly, making their way from list to list until I “find the time” to do them and finally cross them off.

Sometimes they fall off the list, never to be seen again. Because none of this type of task is actually necessary it seems more difficult to get done. It is also possible that they don’t matter, or else that I have given them more importance than they originally deserved. It isn’t always easy to know what is important and what is merely something it would be nice to do if there were time to do it. And there’s that word again: time.

Have you ever noticed that it can take the same amount of actual clock time to come home as it does to go somewhere, yet it seems to take much longer to go than it does to come home? This is just one more mystery I experience involving the passage of time. However, to be honest I usually find that I always have enough time when I focus on the doing part rather than the amount of time to do it. Perhaps that is because there really is no such thing as time at all.

Tasha Halpert

 

 

Gazing Back, Looking Forward

Waters Farm View 3  Having lived in the town of Grafton for more than twenty five years, I can both remember how things were and see how they have changed. Often as I drive the streets of this town I am aware of places that were once bare of buildings and are now well populated. It is an interesting feeling: In my minds eye I see trees that once shaded sidewalks now vanished, succumbed to blight or old age; I note houses once one color that are now another. I have memories of roads where I used to walk that were near where I once lived. The past and the present mingle in my mind as I pass through the familiar places.

Janus, the Roman god for whom January was named was honored as the guardian of doorways. He is pictured with two faces, one looking forward, one back. It is interesting to note that they are joined. The past, the present and the future are not separate. Looking back on the year now past gives me perspective as well as a sense of continuity, as does looking forward. As I get older the past, the present and the future blend even more into one. I occasionally need to sort things out and the New year is a good time for this.

There is much that I have accomplished over the past year: columns written, manuscript readied for publication, countless meals prepared, recipes tried, new friends made. Some projects I planned did not turn out as I had anticipated; others turned out to be even better than I thought they would. There have also been significant losses for me this year: friends I treasured that have moved on either in this life or to the next. I still feel connected to them, yet they are receding into the past. I am also pleased to have made progress in changing certain negative habits and building others that are more positive.

It is my hope to keep learning and growing for all of the years I have to live in this lifetime. Because I believe this is important to my quality of life, I work at constantly recreating myself. Toward that end I like to try different things I haven’t done. It is also important to me to review and to renew those I have done in the past. If something doesn’t work for me, I’ll set it aside and move on, yet I may return to try it again. Among other planned projects I want to get back into drawing, illustrating one of my earlier tales. I also have a bunch of sorting to do, and a book of poems to put together.

Perhaps this is the year I will finally go through those notebooks I have been keeping from many years past and mine them for gems I have forgotten or left behind. Certainly I know I will write new stories and new columns, and surely publish at least one new book as well. As I look back and forward, for that which is helpful that remains from the past I say thank you, and for that which was stressful and is now over, I say the same. Having looked back with gratitude, I now look forward with optimism and the knowledge that a new year awaits.

The Gift of a Smile by Tasha Halpert

bigsmile          One of my happy childhood holiday memories is of my father sitting by our fireplace near Christmas time, wrapping cartons of cigarettes, boxes of whiskey, ties and other items that he distributed to the various individuals he did business with. There was always a big pile when he was done. Then he would load them into his car and the next day he’d hand deliver them. Occasionally I got to ride with him. This was always a great treat.

Christmas memories are in themselves a gift of the season for me. I delight in recalling the images from my childhood: my mother playing carols on her violin on Christmas Eve, the table at my Great Aunt’s set with gleaming crystal and shining silver, the tree, all decorated with the carefully preserved ornaments and the foil tinsel that was always saved from year to year. I cherish these and other memories. It is always a treat to hear those of others as well.

As I was shopping in our local market a grocery wagon drew up next to mine. The sweet faced older lady pushing it beamed in my direction. “I just loved your last column in the paper,” she said. She went on to tell me a special Christmas story about her son when he was a child. I was very touched and thanked her, not only for the compliment but also for sharing her happy story.

To me that kind of experience is the same as receiving a gift from Santa Claus. Santa, whose origins go back hundreds of years to St. Nicholas, Sinter Klaas, and the Christkindl that became Kris Kringle, is seldom seen without a smile on his face, and no wonder. His job is to bring joy to the hearts of those who celebrate Christmas. The glee of young children who cherish Santa is not misplaced. Santa is about love. He does not spend money, just time and effort.

The smile of love cannot be purchased nor must it be paid for. Smiles and friendly words are to me more precious than anything money can buy. At Christmas we celebrate the birth of a baby. How appropriate! The smile of a baby is perhaps the most special of all gifts. Those who are privileged to receive such a gift know what a treasure it is.

To me a gift at the holidays whether given or received is a kind token of affection. When I give, it’s not because I feel under any obligation to do so, rather I like sharing something I believe the recipient will enjoy or appreciate, and if not that he or she will pass it on to someone who might like it more. When people give to me I am always delighted because someone has acknowledged their fondness for me. In other words, I feel blessed.

It is said that it is more blessed to give than to receive. Perhaps that is true. For myself I feel equally blessed whether I am giving or receiving. It does not matter to me whether I am the recipient or the donor. What does matter is the smile I see when I look into the eyes of my friend, family member or even a stranger and the exchange of kind regard that I feel free to accept.

 

Time To Mail Those Gifts

Time To Mail Those Christmas Gifts, By Tasha Halpert

In the home I grew up in there was a small triangular closet with a slanting roof under the eves on the second floor. It was lined with narrow shelves. I believe it may originally have been intended for the storage of unripe fruit to be kept for later use in the cold months. My parents used it to store away empty boxes as well as Christmas and birthday presents bought for friends and family during the year, perhaps on sale or on the trips they took. As an adult I adopted this practice and put away gifts I came across during the year.

Once we got together, Stephen joined me in this. All year long, we keep an eye out for items we think will be suitable for friends and family for the holidays. We store what we find away until it is time to get them out and in some cases, mail them off. Having suffered from waiting too long in the past to mail them, we have learned our lesson: we have become true early birds at the post office. Now that Thanksgiving is over, it is time to wrap and send off all that we have accumulated.

Because our apartment is small we have to squirrel things away here and there in out of the way corners. Finding all of the presents we have acquired and bringing them all out into the open is the first step in the giving process. They need to be sorted and decisions made as to for whom we bought which gift. Sometimes what seemed just perfect for someone several months ago evokes question marks when examined in the light of now. It’s fun figuring it all out. Once the gifts are arranged, we consult the address book for those we intend to give to and the wrapping begins.

The actual process of wrapping can be the most difficult part of all. Fortunately I learned some tricks a few years ago from a friend of mine who used to wrap department store gifts. Boxes we have been saving come in handy now, as does the extra tape I purchased and the paper bags we cut up and use to wrap DVDs and books. It is more fun to make use of free stuff than to depend on purchased padded envelopes or boxes. In addition, the rising cost of postage makes it important to be as thrifty as possible when it comes to the mailing of what we have chosen.

Over the years this little ritual has become the opening chords to Stephen’s and my Christmas celebration. Because many of our friends have moved away and some of our family live at a distance, we seldom if ever see them physically. Now the gift giving ritual of choosing and wrapping becomes a heart warming pleasure. As we prepare and address what we have chosen, we spend time thinking of our dear ones and chat about our memories of them. Thus in giving we ourselves receive a gift, and it is even more precious than anything we may mail away.

 

Smelling the Roses, by Tasha Halpert

Smelling the Roses

imageRoses in VAseWhen I was growing up my life was oriented around the calendar and the seasons. Living in the country I experienced the different times of the year vividly. Each time of year had its treats and its special occasions. That which was associated with them was not present at other times of the year. I am still very much in the habit of this kind of thinking. Most of all what I especially notice is the flowers that grow only at certain times of the year.

Driving along our country roads I am bewitched and blessed by the scent of the small white wild roses blooming along their edges. Essentially weeds, they are invasive in the extreme as I found out when once upon a time I planted some by the fence of our pool. It was something of a struggle to decide whether the lovely smell that lasted a couple of weeks was really worth the impressive work of trying to contain the thorny vines the rest of the time.

The tiny white petaled roses that grow wild everywhere they are left to grow are considered a nuisance and can be quite invasive. They are not welcome except where other vines grow wild. I am so glad when the season of their blossoming arrives. When I am outside I have my nose on the alert for their beautiful scent. There are a few growing near my porch. Every time I am there I am treated to their heady scent.

I also appreciate the profusion of daylilies that follow on their heels. The daisies that decorate the side of the highway are another welcome sight. There is something wonderful to me about the way different flowers arrive at different times, each bringing the gift of its color and scent to the eye and nose. Were they all to bloom at once they would lose their specialness and while they would still be lovely, they would not have the quality of unique appearance that enhances their presence.

Still, the roses are my favorite. The fact that the their season is so brief makes these tiny wonders extra special to me. Such brevity is growing rare in my life. Many foods I enjoy that used to be seasonal are now available all year round. Yet I wait to savor them in season. Local corn on the cob tastes finer than any other kind. No matter how good the peaches or plums from elsewhere might taste in the winter, I don’t buy them. I look forward to the local ones from the farm stand.

Growing up I enjoyed the different pleasures and treats that came during the year. I looked forward to certain occasions: the circus was one, another were the church fairs that I went to with my grandmother. When something nice is found rarely or seldom it becomes more special. When everything is within reach or readily available specialness diminishes. I don’t mind waiting for the Concord grapes of August. Perhaps like birthdays that come once a year, they taste better for the anticipation.