Category Archives: Inspiration

Decisions

Dear Readers,

IMG_9108I adore Mary Oliver and her poem, “I Have Decided” (from A Thousand Mornings, Poems). When I read this  (or much of her other work), I feel understood. Yes, that’s  what I mean to say  —what I think  —what I believe —want to believe… Yes, I’m following you. This is a precise capturing of  complicated thoughts and feelings  distilled into what feels to me like having the best ice cream sundae with a cherry on top on a  sunny day where everything is clear and you’re with your favorite people.

IMG_9105

I love that such big ideas are expressed in so few words. There’s nothing like reading something that resonates and feels true at exactly the moment I need to receive those words. They swirl around in my head, reaching into things I need or want to think about, or work on. They inspire me and answer questions I have and raise more questions, too. Gratitude to Mary Oliver.

Love and peace,

Elana

Ihavedecided

 

IMG_9109

Just Outside My Window

Dear Readers,

Hi. It’s been too long. Rather than tell you  a lot  about January and February (nutshell: there’s been sickness, all non life threatening, yet relentless), I’ll jump in with right now.

windo

Looking outside my window at the tree which has started to bud and rain that hasn’t stopped since this morning. The droplets of water on the tree branches are shiny crystals.

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls

—”Kathy’s Song, Simon & Garfunkel.

It’s a quiet, grey day. It reminds of a day when I helped my father with a photography project in Northern Israel (late 1980s). There were olive tree groves we walked through after it rained, cows munching on grass, wildflowers growing like crazy in the green fields (red, purple, yellow), and people. We took pictures of the trees, cows, wildflowers, and people. My view is different today, but a rainy day like this brings back memories. Is the field still there? The people?

I’m sending you hearts, because I’ve got files of posts I wrote and abandoned. I figure since it’s been so long I’ll start by sending love to you for reading this and for being out there, for doing whatever it is you’re doing.  Image

Maybe you’re digging out from under your own piles or sickness or winter or memories? Maybe you’re looking out a window and you’re remembering something from long ago, and you don’t have pictures, just fragments of color, the scent of rain and dirt, flashes that come to your brain when you’re alone. When you’re alone and you face your window or your mirror or the page.

Image

The piles are in every room; toys, clothes, shoes. I could easily spend my day just opening old mail which needs to be shredded, recycled, or tossed. Time passes too quickly so that isn’t happening today.

Not  saying much, just recovering after a few deaths of people I knew and loved (in particular, my friend’s mother in Israel, my  far away, always and forever friends, like family.  Is 36 years a long time? It’s gone so fast). And also birthdays, mine, and many others in my family. What do they call this? Transitions. I call it, people die and it hurts. We’re one year older. Things are always changing and staying the same.

Max said this about death recently:

“When someone you love dies, a piece of your soul dies.”

Inspiration is slow finding it’s way to me. It’s being unpacked, uncovered, dusted off. Yes, there’s the occasional shred-fest, clean up, and wonderful throwing out of nonsense, old, old, stuff that doesn’t do anything but clutter (in the rooms and in my mind). But not today. Not in any big  rush, barely slivers of tiny moments of noticing, being, like fog clearing. From, “I can’t see the forest for the trees ” to “There’s a light at the end of the tunnel” to: the light is dim but it’s there and watch for other things that sparkle and shine, because they do exist, and yes they’re there even on the grey days but it’s also true that sometimes you can’t see  bright light. I imagine if every day was bright, we’d get blinded by it, or we’d complain it’s way too hot. Or too bright. I do love a rainy day with muted colors and flashes of sparkle on the trees.

To wake up from a winter hibernation of sorts (but with not nearly enough napping), a hungry bear, ready to work.

The Man Who Has Many Answers from A Thousand Mornings Poems by Mary Oliver

“The man who has many answers

is often found

in the theaters of information

where he offers, graciously,

his deep findings.

While the man who has only questions,

to comfort himself, makes music.”

purplehearts

Deciding to write and then actually writing. Planning to paint and then actually painting, and all without knowing how any of it will turn out. This carving out, claiming  time for the work. I will write and/or paint today between 10am-2pm and I’ll be happy if it ends up being two hours or one hour, or ten minutes as long as the words get out of my head and some paint comes out of the tube and ends up on a surface because I have sat at the computer and typed and saved, written in the notebook, or lifted my brushes and dipped them in paint and made a mark on the canvas or paper— not just wished I was doing that, but in fact did that.  Creating the time in little bits requires stopping the outside noise, radio, TV, going offline, ringers must be turned down or off, doors closed, window blinds open.

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Gathering the supplies, ink, brushes, tubes, rags, paper, notes written on scraps and stickies and ideas posted on my wall. Pick one idea.  Do it.  Today, not tomorrow. Start small. One tiny thing.

I’ve started writing a children’s book. Daffodils are coming up. Max made this and called it “Spring.”

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Everything is terrifying. Everything is wonderful. Everything is in between.

I hope you’re well.

Back again soon.

all words and images by Elana A. Halberstadt except where noted otherwise. 

Merry and Bright

Dear Readers,

Belated Chanukah wishes…

Window dreidls

Window dreidls

First Night

First Night of Chanukah

Lights

Lights

made in school, kindergarten

made by Max in  kindergarten

Got this lovely card from my mother with a donation that she made to the American Bird Conservancy for Chanukah.

Tiwi, Photo by Jack Jeffrey, www.jackjeffreyphoto.com for more on ABC visit www.abcbirds.org

Tiwi, Photo by Jack Jeffrey, http://www.jackjeffreyphoto.com for more on ABC visit http://www.abcbirds.org

Dreidlcat

Dreidlcat

We call this time of year--- the Festival of Boxes.

We call this time of year— the Festival of Boxes.

window lights

window lights

 

a holiday gift to us made by Max, age 6, in Kindergarten

a holiday gift to us made by Max, age 6, in Kindergarten

More school handiwork for the holiday season, by Max

More school handiwork for the holiday season, by Max

Another bit of cuteness from school. Max says Snowman Soup is  delicious.

Snowman Soup recipe and snowman --another bit of cuteness form school. Max says these are delicious.

Snowman Soup recipe and snowman

I received this holiday card from an old friend.

Saw-whet owls, Photo by Art Wolfe. From a Sierra Club card. www.sierraclub.org

Saw-whet owls, Photo by Art Wolfe. From a Sierra Club card. http://www.sierraclub.org

Merry Christmas!

Wishing you health, love, peace, laughs, joy and all things merry and bright!

Thank you for reading and being there. 

Love,

Elana

"After the Storm"

“After the Storm” copyright Elana Halberstadt 2012

Sadness and Gratitude Holding Hands

Dear Readers,

There I was, writing about Kindergarten fears, when news of the shooting near the Empire State Building in NYC on Friday stopped me cold.

I started to write about that.

Then I learned that Jerry Nelson, longtime Puppeteer for the Muppets and Sesame Street, had died.

I started to write about that.

Then yesterday, the news that Neil Armstrong had also died.

I stopped trying to write and let it all sink in. I tried to focus on the good.

Two great men. Two kinds of heroes. Both figures that entered my world when I was just a toddler and have been around my whole life. Gone.

Jerry Nelson was immensely talented. He brought joy and learning to countless children and grown ups over his long and marvelous career.

I thought about watching Sesame Street as a child in 1969 when it first aired.

I found myself furiously sketching this:

Then I reached for a book, Sesame Street Unpaved, scripts, stories, secrets and songs by David Borgenicht

I thought of my friends who work at  Sesame Street and how sad they must be.

I thought about how incredibly fortunate I was to work there (on and off) in a variety of jobs for over 20 years. I first started working there in the early 90’s, just a few weeks before the late, great Jim Henson died. At that time, I was an intern, answering viewer mail. I’d never seen so many condolences letters. So many lives were touched and changed by his work. And we continue to enjoy his greatness even though he’s long gone from the planet. I think Jerry Nelson will also be remembered for a very long time, especially through his remarkable body of work as a masterful puppeteer, most notably as the creator and original performer of The Count, among many other characters.

How do you quantify or measure that?

I’m reminded of a quote attributed to Albert Einstein:

“Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.”

 Jerry Nelson’s  work and legacy lives on in the many characters he created; immortalized on film and video. It’s all there for us to enjoy for years to come. What a great gift we’ve been left with.

I thought about relationships and work colleagues. I met my husband at a party on the set of Sesame Street in 1995. Tomorrow, we’re celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary. I couldn’t be more grateful for that life changing moment when my friend, a writer for the show, introduced us. I love and admire her for many reasons. That moment, which has led us to 17 years together, is certainly one of the biggest reasons. That isn’t something I can quantify. It’s immeasureable. At the same time, it counts as a HUGE moment that altered my life for the better and in ways which I could not have imagined for myself.

Makes me think of when Andy plays the Elton John song so beautifully on piano, “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters” (Lyrics, Bernie Taupin):

“And I thank the Lord for the people I have found.”

Oh, yes, minus the Lord, for me, but yes, deeply thankful for the people I have found. And what a beautiful song that is.

I thought about how when loved ones die and leave behind a family, friends, colleagues, those people will never celebrate another living anniversary or milestone or ordinary day together ever again. Life can be gone in an instant. I’m grateful daily for the people in my life. Gratitude helps with my sadness. It grounds me in what is here now and it lives along with the sadness. It isn’t one instead of the other. It is both. Sadness and gratitude holding hands.

I thought about respect, talent, and a love of children. And a belief that all children have a right to a decent, good education that is free from war, violence, and sorrow. They have a right that we do our best to provide that. They deserve that we don’t stop working towards that.

Here, two great men, one from the arts, one from science–both made remarkable contributions to our country and the world. I think about science and the arts and that they’re equally important and they’re both connected by imagination, exploration, and discovery, by hard work and requiring an attitude of humility, and open minds that creates a pursuit of life long learning, which in turn creates progress. I want Max to have role models and heroes in every area of life. And I want him (and all the other children in this country and beyond) to grow up in a place where both science and the arts are recognized as being of value.

And where they intersect–in places like Sesame Street, counting, numbers, and math delivered in a fun, playful, accessible way. Art, math, and music together! Do you remember that Slimey the Worm also went into space? Sesame Street pretty much covers it all. Then there is flight, courage, space exploration, walking on the moon, and from that we have heard and seen some of the most poetic words and images. There was an opening up of imagination and expanding limits beyond what was possible that still inspires today:

 “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

–Neil Armstrong, First man to walk on the moon

I get goosebumps every time I see that footage. I was three when I saw it happen live for the first time. It never gets old.

I thought about a disgruntled worker, killing another. Someone lost their job a year ago, and on Friday, killed a man, and created panic and fear in the heart of NYC. The news says what it says. The same story spins around again.

I thought about guns and why our country is hell-bent on self-destruction, so heartbroken, fearful, and angry. Quick to pull the trigger. So desperately sad. I watch neighborhood children with their toy guns and their water guns, and I wonder why their parents can’t (or won’t) find them something else to do with their natural, human aggression? Why the guns?

Then I thought about people like Jerry Nelson who brought light and laughter into the world. Our world needs people in it who bring fun, light, color, movement, creativity, and music. Then I think about those who suggest the arts, physical education, foreign language, libraries, and classroom aides are lines that should (and are) cut from the budgets. They are deemed unnecessary. Really? Imagine a world without art, music, film, tv, theater, or books.

We need to give children a fighting chance to grow up by making our country safer and healthier. We need people who inspire learning and play. We need science and math and ALL of it. We need people to end hunger. We need people to fight poverty. We need people to teach in ways that support and nuture children, not just test them into oblivion.  We need business, too, of course, but not instead of people and their basic welfare and health. There’s a way to have both. Not all businesses are evil, far from it. But priorities must shift. Maybe remembering these two men will remind us all what people can become and accomplish if they’re nurtured, educated, and fed both literally and figuratively.

I see people are incredibly unkind to one another. The anger is spraying bullets through easily purchased guns. I came across this:

 “Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.”

 —Dalai Lama

I can’t say I’ve never been unkind, I know I’ve been unkind, and I know I’ll likely be unkind again, because I’m human, and sometimes people are unkind.  But what if we made this our goal? Something that we work towards. At least something we attempt to do with our children. Each other. Our city. Our town. Our country. Our planet. The only thing I can come up with for today:  to the news of the violence, to the news of death, to the news of endings–is to send  out words, colors, love, and wishes for peace.

I choose a rainbow of colors, fur, monsters that don’t hurt, but teach us how to be human.

I choose marveling at the moon and the men who walked on it.

Thank you, Jerry Nelson for the years of amazing characters,  voices, and songs. I hope you rest in peace. You have made a difference in so many lives, including mine.

I love this quote from him I found in Sesame Street Unpaved:

 “Don’t give up, no matter how far away you are from the mark.”

 –Jerry Nelson

For my friends who knew Jerry Nelson personally, and who worked with him, some over a lifetime, you have my deepest sympathy and I’m sorry for your loss.

For Neil Armstrong, American Hero, I’ll see you in the moon, there to remind me what is possible when dedicated people work together for the greater good.

A long time ago, a little girl saw images on TV and they lit a spark that continues to inspire  today. Thank you.

With love,

Elana

all words and images copyright 2012 Elana Halberstadt except where noted otherwise.

Thank you, Readers: A One Year Anniversary

Just had a technical problem. I published this earlier today. Just a few minutes ago, I was fixing a typo I’d missed. I somehow messed things up…the piece I had posted just disappeared…Long story short, I managed to restore my earlier draft, and I’m  publishing it again here. Unfortunately, some of the comments and likes I’d received already seemed to have gone missing also. So sorry, folks! 

Dear Readers,

Today, I’m celebrating one year of this blog. Cue the confetti and balloons.

Nah. But I did check my stats and was stunned and amazed to learn that people from at least 47 countries have visited this blog. Many  are places I might never get the chance to visit. Some I’ve been to. I know people here in the US who are from some of the countries on this list. Others, I’ve lived in; the United States, Israel, and Ireland.

It is humbling and wonderful to take a minute and be excited about how great some things in life are. Being able to connect with people all over the world is really a GREAT thing. I’m happy to be a part of a community of bloggers who are reading and writing in all corners of the world. I follow quite a few and while I never get to read as much as I’d like to, I’m inspired when I do and am happy this forum exists for all of us.

I realize this is a long list, but I want to thank every single one of you who’ve visited me here from:

Afghanistan, Algeria, Argentina, Bahamas, Bangladesh, Bermuda, Belgium, Brazil, Canada, Chile, Columbia, Costa Rica, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, France, Hong Kong, Hungary, India, Indonesia, Ireland, Israel, Kenya, Malaysia, Mexico, Moldova, Morocco, Netherlands, Panama, Philippines, Puerto Rico, Republic of Korea, Russian Federation, Serbia, Singapore, Spain, Slovenia, Taiwan, Thailand, Turkey, Ukraine, United Arab Emirates, United Kingdom, United States, Uruguay, Venezuela, and Viet Nam.

Some flowers for you:

from my garden

I just reread my first post. It seems like it was yesterday.  Much has changed. Much remained the same.

Thank you  for signing up, reading, commenting, and sharing this.

I’d also like to welcome and thank the newest subscribers and likers!

For you:

Many of you have encouraged me and lent an ear or kind word. Your support and  kindness often arrived at the exact moments of my self-doubt, exactly when I needed them most. I’m sending virtual hugs and more flowers and hope you’ll like what’s coming in the next year, too. Things will probably change a bit. I’m not sure exactly how.

I’ve  been playing around with the themes and design, trying different things. I  haven’t written my ABOUT section yet. It’s on my list to do this year. And I still don’t have a nifty, catchy title for this blog. I can rename it. I’m thinking about it. This is an ongoing work in progress.

I recently upgraded to no-ads on my site, so you shouldn’t be seeing any more. If you do, kindly let me know. By  the way, I’ve been very happy here at WordPress. When I’ve got a question or need help, the support staff is  responsive and helpful.

When I look back, I see that the main topics I wrote about were: Max, our relationship, things we learned from each other and our experiences, feelings, a variety of social and environmental justice concerns, bullying, violence and gun control, art, writing, creativity and other life stuff about getting along in the world.

A dear friend and fellow writer shared  this with me way back at the beginning of this blog. I use it as a kind of mantra when I get stuck:

“Stop worrying if your vision is new

Let others make that decision

They usually do

Just keep moving on.”

—Sondheim, Sunday in the Park with George

Just keep moving on.

I’ve been watching out for color (it helps when I get discouraged). I watch in awe as Max gets bigger and brighter. There is wonder everywhere I go with him. I’m thankful to be able to see the world through his eyes. It is both scary and safe. Dark and colorful. Fast and slow. We share a deep love for ice cream sundaes.

On the High Line, NYC

I’ve been thinking about this new phase we’re going into; Kindergarten and public school. The other day, I bumped into the parents of one of Max’s  preschool friends and we had one of those on-the-run-morning-chats. The dad looked at me and blurted out, “Honestly, I’m afraid of Kindergarten.  Afraid of the whole thing.” I was delighted to hear this, and said, “Yes, me, too. Let’s be scared together!” Then we laughed and the fear evaporated for that moment. I love moments like that. YES! You’re not alone. I’m not alone. We’re laughing. 

I truly believe that the connections / friendships / relationships we have with each other are what make life worth living, worth fighting for, worth “Just keep moving on” for.

So, thank you to my family and friends, both near and far. And to you, Dear Reader, wherever you are, thank you!

Love & peace,

Elana

“The thing that is important is the thing that is not seen…”

The Little Prince, Antoine De Saint-Exupery

sky after storm 2

All words and images copyright 2012 Elana Halberstadt except where noted.

There are no mistakes in art

Dear Readers,

I  missed posting last week because Max and I were both sick.

As the week neared an end, Max got better. Then he started climbing the walls. Literally. I was climbing the walls, too, but I don’t have any snapshots of the inside of my mind which I imagine might have  resembled  crumbs from a piece of burnt bagel or maybe it was a cinnamon pop tart.

All better now.

It was the last day of camp yesterday. When we got out of the car, we saw the camp counselor /art teacher. We had a brief  parking lot conversation on the way in. How fast the summer has goneHow quickly camp flew byHow much fun it was…

She said, “You know, I love the things Max says, ‘I’m a real artist.’ Or, ‘There are no mistakes in art.’ Other kids get frustrated sometimes, but Max just told them, ‘There are no mistakes in art.’”

Wish I would take my own advice more often. Maybe I need to  practice saying that to myself. Then practice believing it. Or perhaps take the often useful approach, fake it ’till you make it, and then act AS IF I believed it. 

THERE ARE NO MISTAKES IN ART

Self portrait, copyright 2012 Max Halberstadt Turits

I was happy to hear that Max has gotten that message and was helping his friends, too.

On the way inside, he showed me some new tricks he’s picked up.

I’m thrilled that he’s learned so much these past six weeks. He went from being uncertain and afraid of being in a new place to  feeling comfortable and confident. He even asked me, “Why did camp end so fast?” Max is walking away with a bunch of new skills like swimming with his head under water, playing basketball, soccer, etc.

Suddenly he pointed up. “See that window up there, Mommy? That’s the art room. I know where all the rooms are now.”

Seems this was just the right camp for him.  Gosh, all that angsting I had over it. And it was fine. More than fine. Hmm. I wonder if I’ll be able to remember this next time I need to choose something for him. Maybe less worrying and fretting next time? Nah. It’s part of the deal.

If we never take a chance on something new, we can’t really grow. I’ll thank Max for reminding me of that little nugget.

When I arrived at camp in the afternoon to get him, they’d  just finished face painting. He ran to show me the hamster on his cheek.

Then, it was time for ice pops and goodbyes. I had one, too. Grape. I should really say purple! My favorite. Max had green. He said it was green apple flavored. For a few minutes,  the counselors, the kids, and I  happily slurped our ice pops. A rainbow of colors. All delicious. A good and sweet goodbye.

Hugs, thank you, and we’ll see you again some day.

Love & peace,

Elana

PS. I’ve been rereading a wonderful book I’d like to recommend. It’s an anthology presented by Eric Carle, benefitting the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art: ARTIST to artist, 23 Major illustrators Talk to Children about Their Art, Philomel Books

All words and images © Elana Halberstadt 2012 except where noted.

Colors, words, and having it all.

Dear Readers,

It is hot. Very hot. I hope you’re in a cool place.

Thoughts about what “Having it all” means. Thinking about it has given me a headache. But here’s a few interesting thoughts by others. Perhaps more on this another time.

I made this for a friend years ago. I called it, “balancing act.”

Balancing act

Been noticing the heat and weather patterns, the heat advisories and air quality warnings. Thinking about global warming and the many ways our planet is being destroyed by governments, leaders, businesses and citizens in denial. I want a habitable planet. Doesn’t everyone? This picture posted on Facebook by the Cove hit me hard.

I turned to our collection of shells. I want our planet to have clean oceans. I want Max to be able to collect shells and run in and out of waves forever. I wish no more animals, sea creatures, or birds will be injured or die because human beings can be thoughtless and dangerous.

A few nights ago I had a peaceful moment in the backyard. I watched fireflies (we also call them lightning bugs and magic bugs) dance around in the dark. I saw dragonflies overhead.

Fireflies & clover in the grass

It reminded me of paintings I made a long time ago. I decided to share them.

Woman in hammock with fireflies and woodland creatures 2004

dragonflies

I had some hopeless feelings, so I read a few William Stafford poems. Here they are:

From The Way It Is: New & Selected Poems, Graywolf Press, copyright 1977-1998 William Stafford and the Estate of William Stafford

From The Way It Is: New & Selected Poems, Graywolf Press, copyright 1977-1998 William Stafford and the Estate of William Stafford

I found a picture of a boy who had cancer. It was the summer of 2004. I was making him a painting of his favorite things, but I never finished it or sent it. I don’t remember why. I regret that. There is a photo of a woman holding the dog up to him in his wheelchair that I worked from to make this. This is a sketch of a dog that comforted him in the hospital. I’m not sure if it was his dog or not. I wonder if the boy and the dog are alive.

A healing dog, Summer 2004

A friend’s mother has cancer. She’s very sick. It’s been a year, but I just found out. Maybe that is where my helpless/hopeless feelings are coming from. I wish there was more I could do. Painting in the face of that seems silly.  Ineffective.

I made a drawing for another woman friend I knew who had breast cancer.

Red Hot Lady

She told me it had lifted her spirits. She’s died since. This picture is for Barbara and all the people hurting from cancer today, including my friend’s mother and her family. I wish it could cure, but it can’t do that. It’s just for the spirit, really. Wishing for a win.

Max went to the town parade with his dad on July 4th. When he came home, he was still excited by everything he saw. He created his own parade using his toy cars and trucks. As he was organizing them just so, he declared, “Mommy, I have ALL the colors, shapes, styles, and types! This is my Hot Wheels Fashion Race Car Show Parade!”

Max’s Parade

I think about colors and painting things. I think about words and writing things down. Even when it’s too hot, even when it feels hopeless or helpless. It is always better to paint it, or write it, than not to. That is what I tell Max.

White River, Vermont

All words and images © Elana Halberstadt 1998-2012 except where noted.

The poems, “You Reading This, Be Ready” and “Yes” are © 1977-1998 William Stafford and the Estate of William Stafford.