Heartwings Love Notes 2010:Cloudy Days Can Be Helpful

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Heartwings says, “Weathering the days is an art to be practiced,”

Do you sigh and or feel disappointed when you raise the shades in the morning and see clouds? Do you wish for sunshine instead? It’s normal for many to do so. However, it is also possible to see the clouds as a blessing. Were the bright sun to shine down relentlessly, it would soon dry up the world we live in and we would be begging for the relief of cloudy days. Even a desert environment experiences clouds and occasional rain.

I remember reading a tale years ago where someone loved Sundays because he didn’t have to work then. He wished for a month of Sundays and soon became tired of doing nothing. Variety is the spice of life and without it, life becomes monotonous, even tedious. Cloudy days can give us an opportunity to pause and think again, to be able to rest from some tasks and pursue others.

These days are like opportunities to pause and think about whether whatever direction we are headed in is correct. I had an experience once that convinced me of the value of pausing when I didn’t know what to do.

As luck would have it, I was in New York City after a performance of a sacred drama in a church. I needed to get back home and wasn’t sure how to proceed, as the arrangements I originally made had fallen through. I was at the church where the group I was with had performed. Over the next hour or so I observed colorfully dressed people of all nationalities climb the steps where I lingered. I truly did not know what to do next, so I just waited there, allowing the time to pass without deep concern but with confidence.

The experience was not unlike having a cloudy day when sunshine had been expected. After a time, I heard someone say “Hello,” and turned to look. It was a woman who had, like me, taken part in the performance. I shared my predicament with her.  Fortunately, she told me she would be headed in my direction and said she would be happy to give me a ride. She was delighted when I offered to pay for part of her gas. We had a pleasant ride and she dropped me off at a train station near my home town so I could complete my journey.

The value of waiting quietly, without expectation, when there is no clear path ahead has been proven to me over and over. When I am patient, when I am willing to trust that a good solution will emerge for me, I am rewarded with that. When I have tried to take the wheel myself, and forge ahead in some direction I want to go, without inner guidance, I usually if not always have been sorry afterward. Trusting in the correctness of one’s direction is a major opportunity to follow the most opportune way to proceed. Experience also helps.

May you have the patience to wait for the right guidance to proceed.

Blessings and Best Regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Do you, dear reader, have a story to tell or an experience to share? Comments are always so welcome. Please make my day and write to me at my email address: tashahal@gmail.com, or if you like sign up to receive my blog weekly at https://tashasperspective.com/pujakins.  

Heartwings Love Note 2010: Celebrating

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Heartwings Love Notes 2010 Celebrating

Heartwings says, “Honoring an occasion makes it memorable and heartwarming.”

My birthday each year is always an occasion for celebration. There is almost always a party on or close to the day itself. In the past, when people asked my age, I would tell people I was ageless, but when I celebrated my eighty fifth year, I decided to state my age, and I am no longer shy about the information. My mother used to say, “You should be proud of your age.” I decided she was right. Now I am turning eighty-eight; I quote her again as she used to say, “How did I get to be this old?”

Remembering other celebrations, I am reminded of my eighth-grade graduation party. My parents held it at Wingarsheek beach, where my great aunt Alice had a cottage. They devised a treasure hunt and attendees had to seek out various clues with places to find the treasure. My memory does not include what it was, but it does hold an image of my very pregnant mom trudging around, helping the participants. The older of my two younger brothers was born soon after. The party might have helped facilitate that.

Most people enjoy celebrating and almost any occasion to do so will do. My father would often host a party for just about any reason, and my mother was good enough to be a gracious hostess. That meant supplying simple hors d’oervres, because the guests would all usually go out to dinner afterward. We used to do potlucks for our parties. Stephen has always enjoyed celebrating; our occasions used to include Friday the thirteenth gatherings we called the triskadecaphilia or lovers of the number thirteen society. We lived at number thirteen on our street, so it was quite appropriate. 

To celebrate is not only to observe but also to commemorate or to proclaim. In days long ago, celebrations were held to mark important times of the year. Harvest festivals, for instance marked the growing seasons, and our Halloween was the last of them, as it closed out the end of the gathering. They lasted from the beginning of August through the Equinox to November first. The act of celebration is an opportunity to proclaim or mark special days. Easter, May Day, Valentine’s Day, Mothers’ Day, Christmas and so on are all opportunities to make merry, and to turn a page with joy.

Regardless of the individual reasons to celebrate, the main overall reason is to highlight the importance of the time. In the days before clocks and calendars, celebrations were an opportunity to commemorate the season and emphasize the time. Later on, they became not only that but also opportunities for family and friends to get together, exchange news, introduce new members of the family, and enjoy one another’s company. My eighty-fifth was on zoom, a gathering of friends from all over the country. This one will be quieter, but no matter, it will be celebrated with just as much gusto and good fun.   

May your celebrations be joyous and memorable,

Blessings and best Regards, Tasha Halpert

PS How do you celebrate important occasions? Write and tell me, I so enjoy hearing from readers.  You can reach me at tashahal@gmail.com. For more Love Notes or better yet, to sign up to receive them weekly, visit my blog http://tashasperspective.com and click on Pujakins. Find me on Facebook too.

Beauty Is Where You Find It

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Heartwings says, “Open your eyes to see without judgement, and find beauty.”

Surrounded by the beauty of fall, it is easy to get jaded, to feel anything else is hardly worth noticing. However, all too soon the branches will be bare. There will be a few dry brown leaves clinging to the Oak tree branches and lots more of the once colorful foliage beginning to mat on the ground under foot. Shivery weather makes us hurry along then, and it takes an effort to look around us as we go from one place to the next. Our minds can be preoccupied with what we ought to be doing next, along with many other things.

But wait, there’s more that we may be missing. If we see color as the sole beautiful aspect of the trees, we need to look again. Check out the graceful loveliness of the tree branches now seen for themselves against the sky. Gaze upon the shapes of the branches revealed now, naked and proud, for all to see. The true individuality of the bare branches presents a beauty that is very special, and only if we look for it will we be able to appreciate it.

I try to see beauty wherever I look. It’s a kind of game I play with myself, and when I spot that special, perhaps unusual beauty, I take a mental photograph for my little interior album. Weeds, for instance often make wonderful subjects. Dried stalks make interesting shadows on the snow. Random green sprouts, and even occasional flowers that brave the cracks between the curb and the street can present a wonderful example of fortitude with a loveliness all its own.

It is a joy to notice such things. If our minds are preoccupied with thoughts, worries, dismay from the past, or concerns for the future, we won’t see much of anything except where our steps or wheels are taking us. We need to focus on the world around us, focus to look out of our eyes at what is there to see. I recognize that for my part, my years of meditation practice have helped me to be able to do that. I was once far too inundated with thoughts that revolved around unnecessary mental stress to allow me to see clearly whatever beauty was there to be seen.

I remember years ago remarking about the beauty of spring to someone I was speaking with at a party. She replied with a sigh that she hadn’t noticed. She went on to say she’d been preoccupied with some recent stress or other and hadn’t been paying attention. I felt sorry for her. Yes, there is much happening in the world that is tragic, yet there is nothing we can do about it. However, I believe we can at least add our appreciation and gratitude for what is lovely and good. It might help in some small way. Beauty is there to be seen, if only we have the eyes to see it.

May you be able to open your eyes and see clearly whatever beauty shines.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS If you have visions or ideas to share, please write to me at tashahal@gmail.com, or simply reply where you read me. I enjoy hearing from readers so much.

Heartwings Love Notes 2007: Fall is my Favorite Season

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Heartwings says, “The colors of fall are equaled only by the tastes.”

On the road for a short trip recently, with my daughter at the wheel of the car, I was at liberty to feast my eyes on the fall color lining the highway. It was glorious, and I relished the rare opportunity. As I am usually the driver, I do not ordinarily have the opportunity to luxuriate in the passing scene. Keeping my eyes on the road while driving, rather than on the scenery must of course be my priority.

I love the colors of fall. For years they have inspired me to create poetry and photography. Fall is also when the apples ripen and are available in farm stands. The local apples are to me far tastier than any others, and the variety the farm stands offer is superior to those available in the market. I can almost never find my very favorite, Courtlands, anywhere except in local places that sell the older kind of apples that are not often mass produced.

There was once a wonderful orchard in Grafton. Sadly, it fell victim to the desire by the owners of the land for more houses. I will always remember the forest of white and pink blossoms adorning the trees that eventually became the fine local apples I bought every year. One spring day as I did every year, I drove over to see them; they were all gone. To my dismay, the beginnings of homes sprouted where they had once been. Perhaps to be fair, the land owners didn’t want to maintain the orchard. It requires a lot of work. 

Apples are versatile fruit and can be used in a great many ways. Of course, it is delightful to bite into a raw one. Though to my way of thinking there is no comparison between a Courtland and a Macintosh or worse, a so-called Delicious. If you are not familiar with the less commercial varieties, I urge you to check out a local apple barn if you can find one, or a farm stand. There are places you can pick your own, as well. My favorite ways to use them are, applesauce, baked apples, and apple crisp.

I make my own applesauce using a food mill-see the internet to buy one, a wise investment. You can make something that bears no resemblance to the bland applesauce you can buy, and you don’t have to peel or core the fruit. For three or four pounds of apples, I use two sticks of cinnamon, some cider, and no other sweetener or ingredients. After I halve them and remove the blossom ends to prevent black specks in my applesauce, I pour half water, half cider to not quite cover them and add the cinnamon sticks. Once they boil, I cook them on low for 4 or 5 hours stirring occasionally, or on low overnight in a slow cooker. 

Next, I remove the cinnamon sticks and grind the apples through the food mill. I put the applesauce in a container with the cinnamon sticks and store it in the fridge. Once you try this, you’ll never want to eat any other applesauce!

May you enjoy all that fall has to offer.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Do you have recipes or perhaps stories to share about fall or anything else? I’d love to hear from you. Thanks for reading and especially for commenting if you do.

Heartwings Love Notes 2006 My Cherished Toy Remembered

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Heartwings says, “Learning to let go is important to one’s happiness.”

When I was a young child, my very most favorite toy was my teddy bear. He had arms and legs that moved freely up and down, and fur-like outsides. His eyes were not sewn on, but were made of glass and stuck in on long pins. His paws had a velvet covering, and his nose and mouth were embroidered in black thread. His “fur” was a light grey. Over time some of it rubbed away. I took him with me everywhere I was permitted to, and I always slept with him at night. Mysteriously he was usually on the floor by morning, something I never could understand until later on, when I was told that I was a restless sleeper.

Over time he acquired wear. The velvet on his paws thinned, his fur grew worn in some places. One of our dogs chewed on his left ear, making it raggedy, so I added a blue beret I had in my doll clothes collection to cover it. When I was in the first grade, I took him to school one day. When the beret covering his ear slipped away, my classmates made fun of him. Needless to say, I never did that again. When I was in the second grade, my parents took me south with them. We lived down there for several months, while my father worked on an assignment for his business. My school work was continued, and my mother taught[TH1] [TH2]  me every day.

While we were living in Florida, we took a trip to an extensive garden somewhere in the everglades. My legs grew tired, and I sat to rest on a bench with my teddy. As we were driving home, I suddenly realized my teddy bear wasn’t with me. My heart sank. I begged my parents to turn around and go back. My pleas were to no avail. They were adamant.  I never saw my teddy again. In today’s world most children have more say, and their wants are given more attention. The majority of parents today would have made a strong effort to retrieve the cherished toy. To be sure, things have changed in the past eighty years, and certainly for the better in that respect.

Some years ago, a kind friend made me a lovely grey teddy. Dressed in a pointed turquoise hat and cape he lives in my bedroom, where I enjoy his presence each day, though he does not share my covers at night. My original teddy is enshrined in my memory, where I can still see him vividly in my mind’s eye. With his brown glass eyes and his worn yellowish grey fur, I envision him on a bench in the Everglades, perhaps talking with a bird or two. Or maybe he is not there any longer, but was found and treasured by another small child who gave him a good home and even took him to bed at night.

May you have cherished memories to visit now and then.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Do you have a story of your own to share with me? I so enjoy hearing from readers. Please do write and make my day. Tashahal@gmail.com Or hit reply, I’ll answer you.

 [TH1]

 [TH2]

Heartwings Love Notes 2005 The Time Between

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Heartwings says, “The time between is an opportunity to be present with change.”

Driving the streets of the local countryside, I am struck by the green foliage that is not as yet committed to its autumn display. Here and there I see a tinge of red, a flash of yellow, with more of that than red. Fall is late this year. What is now called Indigenous People’s Day comes up this weekend, and the leaf peeping traffic will surely be diminished.

The green leaves are much darker green than they were, yet the nights have not been cool enough for the complete demise of their green. However, the warm sun of days in the seventies does feel welcome. Its nice to get out for a walk or to do errands in the sunshine. Happily, with the cooler weather my appetite begins to return and I have more energy to cook.

I seem to remember that in years gone by, frost had visited my garden by now. It seems only a short time ago that my kitchen windowsill was lined with green tomatoes hopefully intended to ripen. Usually, the garden was in need of weeding before the ground hardened, and sometimes I just let the cold frost them and wait until the spring to pull them up. The danger is that the seeds would get into the ground and grow more weeds.

My gardening days are over. With the exception of a few pots of succulents that spend the warm months on the porch, and the occasional basil plant to be used for cooking, I no longer nurture a garden of plants. Do I miss my spiral garden, from Sartell Road, or the smaller oblong one of our Warren Street home? Not really. I wouldn’t be able to manage the weeds and lean on my cane for balance at the same time. I haven’t tended a normal garden for close to ten years. My porch garden is enough for me, and when it leaves to stay with a kind friend for the winter, I will still have several houseplants to tend. They will do to satisfy my need for greenery. It is all right to follow the seasons of life and live appropriately by them.

On any given day now, I hover between getting up and lingering under the covers. I stay in when it rains and have the luxury of grocery delivery that saves me from shopping when I want to stay home. I’m not ready for the proverbial rocking chair on the porch as yet, but I do feel justified in taking things easier.

The seasons of life and the seasons of the year carry appropriate themes. My great grandchildren are in their own spring, my grandchildren enjoy their summer. Time suggests the appropriate tasks. The days between each season lead us to prepare for the next. I’m almost ready to get out my winter sweaters and warm coats. The trees are nearly ready to clothe themselves in their lovely fall garments. The seasons unfold.

May you be present with change as it occurs,

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Please feel free to comment or make suggestions for topics, or just to share. I do love to hear from readers, and I do thank you for reading.

Heartwings Love Notes 2004: Dealing with Disappointment

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Heartwings says, “There is sunshine behind the clouds, when you look for it.”

I’ve been reading Tarot Cards since the Seventies, both professionally and for my own edification. The cards can be used to clarify situations. For instance, the five of cups in my Tarot deck refers to disappointment. Generally, it shows three spilled goblets and two full ones. The person on the card is looking at the spilled ones and not at the two full ones on the shelf behind him. The implication is that while there may be something amiss, all is not lost. It is imperative to look at the full ones to see what has been saved or perhaps even gained.

Oddly, as soon as I had chosen the theme for this article, I began experiencing disappointments. They were small, not major ones, yet still had to be dealt with. Something I had been counting on failed to materialize. It was more than anything a slap to my ego, yet it needed to be resolved. I have found that if I let small negative thoughts hang around, they can grow into big resentments.

Another difficulty is that negativity can attract more of the same. It’s like trash and litter. Left on the street, it will grow. Someone sees some and adds his or her contribution just because there is already some there. It’s the same in my home. If I leave something on my arm chair, next thing I know there are several more items there, too. If I keep the chair clear that does not usually happen.

I have several ways to deal with disappointment, and they all begin by acknowledging my feelings. If I try to gloss over my sadness or dismay, I can’t deal with it at all. I can’t pull the weeds in the garden of my life if I don’t or won’t see them. This was a lesson I had to learn the hard way, and there are times I get to repeat it. Being a naturally cheerful person, I had to learn not to trivialize feelings of disappointment and sweep them under the metaphorical rug. 

Once I learned to look directly at the spilled cups, I could look around for the full ones. Once I had dealt with my feelings of loss, I could look to see what I might have gained. That is what the full cups represent. It has been my experience that there is always a benefit—perhaps small but yet significant, that comes from any loss. In my case, one of the losses became an opportunity to avoid additional, unnecessary calories. Another led to several opportunities I would otherwise not have had.

Not every gain is immediately apparent, and they may take time to discover. Nor am I talking about major sorrows, such as a significant loss. I am speaking of disappointments that occur on a daily or weekly basis, small stones, or snares on the pathway of life. When I treat them as bringing me opportunities, that is what they will do.

May you seek the full cups and find them easily.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Do you have a story to share, or a comment? I always enjoy my readers’ responses very much. Do let me hear from you, and visit my blog on WordPress for more Love Notes. http://tashasperspective.com and click on Pujakins.

Heartwings Love Notes : Autumn Soup for a Fall Treat

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Heartwings says, “Homemade soup is fun to create and even more, to eat.”

Late summer or early fall is the peak time for fresh local corn. Stephen and I are very fond of it, but we can’t always get to the farmstand to buy it. Having grown up with a big garden, I’m something of a corn snob. Supermarket corn just doesn’t cut it. Fresh picked and eaten the same day is standard operating procedure for me. However, for recipes, canned or frozen corn will do. It’s usually fresher tasting than day old or maybe much more supermarket corn, and anyway, for a recipe it’s a lot less work than using any fresh corn kernels.

Stephen expressed a desire for corn chowder, so I got out some of my favorite cookbooks and began looking through them. The first snag I encountered was that without exception the recipes I found wanted me to use canned creamed corn. All I had on hand was regular canned corn. Since I didn’t particularly want to go out and buy that kind, I figured that was out. Next, I knew I didn’t want to use actual dairy milk or cream. Stephen has asthma and he is better off without actual dairy in his diet.

Coconut milk is my usual substitute for the bovine variety, and I had plenty of that on hand. Chicken broth makes a good soup base, so I figured I’d use that too. But how to thicken it? Normally I’d make a roux of butter and gluten free flour, however that seemed like too much work. I remembered seeing something about thickening soup with stale bread—was it perhaps in my ancient Fanny Farmer cookbook? I had some gluten free bread in the fridge I could use.  Then I wanted to add some onion, but I didn’t wish to take the time and energy to chop and sauté it. Cue in the blender. I was almost ready.

I opened a can of corn and poured it into my blender. Next came a cup of chicken bone broth—extra healthy, and a cup of coconut milk. I added about a quarter to a third of roughly chopped onion, some ground garlic, and a little lemon pepper. Last, I added a good-sized slice of bread torn into pieces, crust and all. If you use salt, add some now, but only a small amount. Stephen has to watch his blood pressure, so I leave it out and salt my own.

All the ingredients being present, I covered the blender and turned it on. With its usual grinding noises, it began to chop and combine the mixture it contained. Once everything in the blender was thoroughly combined, I turned it off, took off the cover and poured it into a jar to let it season a bit. I expected to cook it before we ate it so the onion wouldn’t be raw. When we had it for supper along with some toasted cheese sandwiches, we proclaimed it a success.

May your cooking experiments turn out to be delicious.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Do you have any recipes. Especially those you have created or any you are fond of, to share? I’d be so happy to see them. Meanwhile, Happy Autumn and joyous days to you. Tashahal@gmail.com

Heartwings Love Notes 2001: Eating Humble Pie

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Heartwings says, “Humble pie is an acquired taste.”

As a child, I was clumsy and uncoordinated. Being tall for my age may have had something to do with it, however I also have poor proprioception. That means I lack awareness of the space around me. For instance, it’s easy for me to bump into things or kick them, or worse, stumble over them. Lacking in coordination, I did badly in most athletic situations. I played goalie in field hockey because I didn’t have to run. The problem with that was I felt guilty whenever the opposing team scored a goal. Sports really was my least favorite physical occupation.
Then I studied yoga. I began with a book which a friend gave me when I told him I was having trouble sleeping. I studied the pictures, followed the text, and found I was indeed sleeping sooner and more soundly. Next someone I knew announced she was teaching a series of eight yoga classes, which I eagerly took. Fortuitously, I discovered another teacher, signed up for her classes, took her teacher training, and became one of her teachers. How proud I was of my abilities and how good I felt about my new career.
Then I had an accident to my neck. Because many of the important postures put pressure on my neck, I had to give up both teaching yoga and doing it for myself. I was very disappointed. However, there was nothing I could do about it. By this time anyway, with five children, motherhood had become a fulltime occupation. I still meditated regularly and used some of the relaxation exercises I had learned to help me through my busy days.
I prided myself on all that I could get done. My days were full, yet my ability to cope and remain calm was something I cherished. Things went on like this for many years. The children grew up, my life changed, I was now married to a man who, unlike my former spouse, loved to entertain. We started an inner peace center, teaching meditation and classes. I never knew how many people we might host at any given meal. I was proud to be able to feed them at a moment’s notice. Spending hours in the kitchen was no problem; I loved cooking for people.
Many years passed. I found myself slowing down. I found I had acquired Parkinson’s disease. I got tired faster; I could no longer spend long hours preparing and cooking food. Slowed steps made trips to the grocery store tiring. I had to rely more on frozen foods and mixes. Again, I found myself having to cope with no longer being able to do what I used to do. This included mending and other activities requiring dexterity. Once proud of my ability to surmount obstacles, I have to ask for help with them. These days, I’ve had to get used to eating large helpings of humble pie. However, somehow I’m getting used to the taste.

May you enjoy whatever you need to deal with as you learn and grow.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Please share any recipes you have for Humble Pie, I so enjoy hearing from my precious readers. Please email me at tashahal@gmail.com. Enjoy past Love Notes at my blog: httpl://tashasperspective.com.

Heartwings Love Note 2000: It’s About Time

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This Love Note marks a milestone: Number 2000 in total over a period of many years, at 52 a year. You can do the math how many that is. I am eternally grateful to my readers and to the invisibles who have had a hand in the Notes’ creation.

Heartwings says, “Waste not, want not; use whatever time you have wisely.”

When as a child I visited my grandmother in her summer home in Beverly farms, I would stand by the big cuckoo clock in the hall to see the bird emerge. I loved it! I even remember being very little and someone lifting me to see the bird up close. My dear grandmother would even advance the hands to make it sound the hour ahead, just for me. Perhaps that was the beginning of my fascination with time and clocks. All these years later, its passage remains a mystery.

 I remember as a child waking up on sunny summer mornings and thinking about how I had a whole day to play, and what fun that would be. Indeed, the hours stretched out and brought me much joy as I amused myself. An only child until I was eight, I had developed a good ability to entertain myself. I was never lonely, though I was mostly alone unless an adult was interested in playing with me, and mostly they weren’t, so my time was my own.

Now, some eighty years later when I wake up on any morning, whatever the time of year, I go over in my mind what I need to get done, not to mention what’s left over to do from the day before. (Usually, I had planned more than I could accomplish.) Then as I get ready, beginning with my exercises, I prioritize my “to do” list. It’s simpler than it used to be. Eighty years holds a world of change, and hopefully I have learned what’s important.

Children tend to live as human beings; adults as human doings. And time is at the center of the action in either stage of life.  It seems there is only so much of it—sixty seconds make a minute, or so they say. However, how do you feel after holding your breath for sixty seconds or laughing for the same amount of time? Do they feel the same? That’s the odd thing about time. It’s supposed to measure the same, yet it does not, at least in my experience feel that way. Another example is going somewhere versus coming back, which feels much shorter, clocks to the contrary.

Stephen and I have always collected interesting clocks. Our small apartment is full of them. Most of them are synchronized, more or less, within five or so minutes. Several display the accurate time, and others may lag a bit, depending on the age of their batteries. However, I know which ones are correct. Also, I like seeing what time it is whenever I feel like it, even without wearing a watch—mine is currently in need of batteries. I’m not sure I get any more done by looking, but I do like to know. Recently I came across a study that showed that the heart’s activity influences our perception of time as it passes. Time is a conundrum it’s fun to explore.

Enjoy whatever time you have and don’t try to save it at the price of your joy.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

How do you feel about time? Do you take your time? Or do you find there’s never enough? How’s your time management. Write and tell me about your relationship with time. I so love to hear from readers. Please write me at tashahal@gmail.com. You can see more love notes on my website www.heartwingsandfriends.com, or see my blog at https://tashasperspective.com.