In the midst of life
change begins.
Signaling the end
sunflowers sing it.
Morning glories linger into the afternoon,
soaking up more rays.
Time seems to pass slowly.
The eternal and the temporary
Mingle in the August sunshine.
Photo and poem by Tasha Halpert
Day lily days
bright with summer promise
trumpeting joy.
Photo and Haiku by Tasha Halpert
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.
Photo and text by Tasha Halpert
Check out this wonderful woman and the toy she’s developed for little girls to play with.
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 Halpert
This is a very lovely and true bit of writing that I am so pleased to share. With gratitude, Tasha..
Once upon a time there was a Sadness who lived in the silence.
It was sad because it was all alone in the silence and felt very lonely.
It was so lonely that it began to cry, and it cried for a long, long time.
It cried for such a long time that a big pool of tears formed around it. Pretty soon it was floating. As it floated it began to feel better,
but still it was lonely because no one else was there.
It began to feel light and it wanted to feel even lighter,
so it kicked off its shoes and began to dance in the water.
As it began to dance, it noticed
that there were many other beings there.
They were all playing in the beautiful pool.
They smiled at the Sadness and sang as they played,
splishing and splashing about.
The Sadness began to play too.
As they all played in the water, a song rose up in each of them
and they began singing. Soon the being was so happy
it couldn’t even be called a Sadness any more.
As the being joined in, the singing grew louder and more joyous,
and the being that had once been a Sadness truly came a Happiness. Even after the pool had dried up as tears will do,
and all had returned to their homes, it remained a Happiness.
Although it was back in the silence, it was still happy.
For somehow now that it was a Happiness,
even the silence was friendly,
and the Happiness sang to itself all day long.
A Pujatale by 
Photo and verse by Tasha Halpert
Photo by Tasha Halpert
There are holes and rents in the tattered old flag
that hangs by the veteran’s door;
and the man within is tattered and torn
by time and tide and war.
The flag still waves, the man still walks
through increasingly difficult days
the man and his flag reflect each other
in myriad wondrous ways.
Alive to life, yet awaiting their turn
the man and his flag soldier on
both shabby, both proud, they march to a beat
that will cease to be when they’ve gone.
The flag and the man have served us well,
they are weary, yet serving still
in service of life, they make their way
as long as they can and will.
Tasha Halpert
Together we saw a rainbow.
Hand in hand, standing in the rain,
We watched it grow, its glow
Arching up and up until it bowed the sky.
Iridescent colors brilliant against the clouds,
A shining neon promise of a bright tomorrow.
How fortunate I was to share this special moment.
It shines for me always: a rainbow bright in time.
Pujakins 