Spare leafless branches
Tip tight buds
Against blue skies
Birds chirp loudly
Do they sing Spring in,
Or are they just rehearsing?
I will be still, do honor
To the swelling bud
Within the womb of time.
Tasha Halpert
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Loving the Earth, for Robin 1962-1990
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I first felt it yesterday: a stirring in my chest, Sweet mounds of earth Upon the anniversary of my son’s birth
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Timely Haiku
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Timely HaikuTime is a ticking |
Heartwings Love Notes: Wouldn’t It Make Ya Tired!
Heartwings says, “When you begin a task you never know where it will lead.”
My mother had a favorite saying. “Wouldn’t it make ya tired?” she would remark with a laugh and a shrug. This was usually followed by a tale of woe or at least of an unexpected difficulty. My mother was a great one for telling stories of triumph and loss. Many of her stories did not have happy endings, but they did detail some triumph of overcoming on her part.
I thought about this saying of hers as I realized that my search for the ingredients and recipe for Dr. Chen’s Healing soup was going to result in considerably more effort than I had planned. It seems there is a leak somewhere under my sink. I am not sure where it is, and I have not yet figured it out, however I ended up removing the entire collection of bottles, jars, sponges and cleaning implements that resided there.
Because the cardboard box I had used to hold these things was soaked and starting to disintegrate, I went in search of a more durable container and found one. I then began replacing items. In the process I found the soup ingredients and the directions and set them aside.Finally, the work done, I began reading the list of ingredients and adding them to the large pot of water where I had already placed the chicken.
As I added them, I smiled to think that regardless how unexpectedly it had happened, I was happy to have reorganized the cupboard under my sink.
Sometimes it takes a small disaster to accomplish what normally gets neglected until something happens to prompt it. The water began to boil, and as I smelled the fragrance of the soup with its multitude of herbs, I gave thanks for this very special opportunity.
May you find many opportunities within unexpected happenings.
Blessings and Best Regards, Tasha Halpert
Dr. Chen’s Special Soup
These ingredients may be found in Oriental food stores or on the Internet. They make a lovely soup.
1/2 of a chicken
8 cups water
8 red dates
6 pieces astralagus root
4 slices ginger root
1/4 cup American ginseng root
2 sticks cinnamon
2 Tablespoons red berries (barberries) dried)
Place all ingredients in a large pot and bring to a boil. Simmer for 1 hour or so. After soup has cooled, Remove skin, bones and undesirable stuff. Remove astralagus and ginger root, add meat and leave in berries, dates and ginseng. Store soup in the refrigerator and reheat as needed.
We Need Celebrations
Celebrations are the bright blessings of our lives
My children loved me to read to them. One of their favorites was an entrancing book by Charlotte Zolotow, charmingly illustrated by Garth Williams. Called Over and Over, it was about days to celebrate. Throughout the book the preschool child asked “What comes next?”, and the mother would reply, sequencing the round of holiday celebrations that stretched through the year from the child’s current birthday around to her next one.
Holidays, originally holy days, were organized around the changing of the seasons, planting and harvest and the worship of the various deities involved. Some, like Christmas and Easter are still part of our culture, while others like Thanksgiving and Valentine’s Day have become important traditions that we enjoy, participate in and share with friends and family. As we take part in holidays they add a special meaning to our lives and refresh our spirits.
Holidays bring families together. They also provide advertising revenue for the media and commercial potential for merchants. “What comes next” can be easily seen in the stores as green shamrocks and Easter bunnies jostle each other for space on the shelves of department and drug stores and supermarkets. Many protest the commercialization of holidays, yet the decorations do alert us to the eternal round of celebration that comes with the twelve months of the year.
We have within us always the child who delights in holidays. These are important to our need for celebrations. They are vital times of relief from the stress and tension of business and daily life. In the cold and dark days of winter especially, Christmas and Valentine’s day take on even greater significance because of the joy and happiness they bring. Like bright threads woven into a dark tapestry where bleakness predominates, they highlight and fulfill our yearning for joy.
May Your holidays bring you brightness when you need it most.
Not Every Seed
Not every seed becomes a plant,
Nor every bud a flower,
Yet all are grown with Loving Care
By an Almighty Power.
Not every flower will bear fruit
Nor every fruit bear seed,
Yet all is given for our use,
To serve our daily need.
There is a song for every seed,
No matter if it grows,
There is an answer for each need,
From One who always knows.
by Tasha Halpert
Photo copyright 2013 Tasha Halpert
Perhaps
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Photo Copyright Chris Lorenz 2013
Perhaps there are no strangers, only friends
Who have not met each other yet it seems.
Perhaps we are the branches of a mighty tree
That’s hung with all our many colored dreams.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps….
Perhaps each life is but a single note
That altogether makes a symphony
Perhaps we are the sound of one accord
That rings throughout all of eternity.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…..
Perhaps each note is all the notes combined,
For one and one are still one in the end.
Perhaps each stranger is ourselves alone,
In need of someone who could be a friend.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps……
Perhaps we can remember who we are
And know there is no other way to be
Perhaps one day we’ll truly come to know ourselves
As branches of one great, and mighty tree.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…..perhaps.
by Tasha Halpert
To My Valentines
Valentine’s Day 2013
by Tasha Halpert
Copyright 2013 Chris Lorenz
A Valentine to all that I have loved
and love at present and will one day love
my dear ones, you know who you are and will
be always in my heart of hearts to hold.
My cherished friends and family you are
the center of my life, my heart of hearts.
Besides these precious treasured loves I hold
a multitude of others dear to me
well loved, yet perished in the fires of time
and others vanished from my sight yet not
at all forgotten and will never be.
Dear faces in the album of my past.
Then too there are those pearls of memory
strung on a string that dangles from my heart,
star spangled nights and gracious sunny days
filled with great joys and poignant happiness
that I remember only as a thread
woven into my tapestry of time.
These too I love: The taste of lemonade,
that curls the tongue and slakes the eager throat
parched for its twisted sugar-sour thrust,
the feel of slippers, plush on tired feet,
the softness of my pillow when at dawn
I curl myself around a morning dream.
These too I love, the poets of my youth
singing their tales of love and victory
the vivid rounds of sounds that boom again
fog horns of memory drilling the mists of time
to guide me back to other selves I was
that I may know the joy of those days now.
Loves I have many, more than I can count:
Beethoven symphonies, Chopin etudes
glimpses of Renoir, and Rembrandt too,
there are too many here to name but few
I cannot pick among my loves to choose.
I can but feel them as they fill my heart.
Encircled by my loves I feel them all.
I am a fountain gushing as I flow,
my love is borne upon its gentle waves.
My song sings through each note that weaves me whole
into my self that is all selves and more–
the I that is the All that is All Love.
The Cracked Vessel
The Cracked Vessel
by Tasha Halpert
Over and over the heart breaks,
only to be mended again by a smile, by laughter,
by a baby’s chubby hand.
The sound of breaking is no sound
yet it reverberates through the forest
louder than the screech of an owl.
The heart broken open drinks at the well of love
that endlessly pours love in as it pours out:
A cracked vessel watering the ground of being.
Crying to be filled, constantly emptying,
yearning always toward the Source
the broken heart replenishes the spirit with tears of joy.
Into the Ago Bin
Aside
Into The Ago Bin
Into the ago bin I toss my past–
How long was it since…? When did that happen…?
And does the sequence of things matter?
Like an accordion, time shrinks and expands
To fit the feeling of the memory.
Logic has little to do with anything.
I took the trash out yesterday? Or was that last week?
Perhaps tomorrow is trash day.
Time melts as sparkling icicles in the sunshine of happiness
Or solidifies with the icy wind of grief, the chill of regret.
I cannot hold time in my hand or keep it in a jar.
I can only watch it pour itself through me.
Such a short time before this I was small,
Swinging on the rope swing that hung from the big elm.
Once my young children clustered around me
Now their children are older than mine were then.
My mirror shows me my familiar smile.
Does it reflect a wiser me?
Today my clock strikes the hour.
Tomorrow has not yet struck,
Yet it will toll the same hours.
The present moment strikes over and over.
Tasha Halpert
Pujakins 