Baking Banitza in Bulgaria

Tags

adoption, Adoption recovery, Bulgaria, Eastern Europe, Hands-on, Pastry, Phyllo dough, Vidin

One of the best parts of adoption recovery is going places I never could have imagined.
During a recent Viking River Cruise, I spent a couple days in  the beautiful riverside town of Vidin, Bulgaria. Nestled in spectacular scenery, Vidin boasts medieval castle and a spectacular rock formation, Belogradchik. Those sights were wondrous indeed, but the most fun was meeting Ramona, her husband Pavel and her aunt Rosemary, who taught us—a small group of travelers who’d opted for the “extra” side excursion— a cooking class.

Entering our host’s pleasant, airy home just outside Vidin.

From Vidin, we took a van to a tiny outlying village of 100 residents. Ramona greeted us warmly in her front courtyard. We were, she told us, the first Viking visitors of spring. Each of us received welcome kisses on both cheeks and our hostess’s warm smile. Ramona’s husband Pavel offered us small glasses of a homemade vodka-like liquor called “reika,” and we entered the home’s dining room. Folding chairs awaited our band of baking students.

Ramona and Pavel extol the virtues of Bulgarian yoghurt.

Ramona passed out sheets of paper with following directions:
__________________________________________________________________________

Pavel and Ramona’s Homemade Banitza Recipe
Ingredients:
1 packet of fine layers of phyllo dough
6 eggs- whip with fork
400 gr. of white cheese
half a tea cup of yoghurt
half a teacup* of cooking oil (Sunflower recommended)
half a teacup of fizzy drink (lemonade or Mountain Dew)
half a teaspoon of saleratus (baking soda)
half a packet of butter (1 stick, unsalted)

Crumble the white cheese in a big bowl, add the eggs. Put the saleratus into the yoghurt, stir it and pour it into the bowl. Add the cooking oil and the fizzy drink. Stir everything well.
Heat the oven to 180C (350 F)
Spread some cooking oil over the pan. Put some layers of dough over the bottom of the baking tin. Sprinkle with some of the mixture. Put some other layers of dough and some mixture again and again until you fill the pan.
Don’t put any mixture over the last layers of dough. Sprinkle with the melted butter and fizzy drink. Bake in the oven for about 20-30 minutes. Leave it to cool before you cut it. Good appetite and enjoy!
__________________________________________________________________________
*Note: Ramona used what we call coffee mugs, not giant but medium sized.

The baking class was on! Those who wished to help came forward in shifts to gather around Ramona’s kitchen counter. I’d never worked with phyllo dough before so chose instead to crumble white cheese with a fork. Others beat eggs or stirred baking soda into yoghurt. Soon the banitza was assembled and popped into the oven. Later, it came out and needed to cool. Ramona served a previously baked identical pastry and we marveled at its delectability. It was helpful to learn that one could add all kinds of extras within the layering, from herbs to cinnamon sugar. In other words, one can explore banitza variations.

Hands on: we each had a task.

The delectable final product.

Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on adoption and life. Comments welcome!

Since that experience, I’ve adopted banitza as one of “my” special recipes. Fear of phyllo dough is a thing of the past. I learned that one does not plop it down in a single sheet but crinkles each sheet before layering. The resulting creations, though not as pretty or fluffy as Ramona’s, have tasted great. Like life itself, my banitza baking is a work in progress.

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Eastern European Odyssey~Captivated by Croatia

Tags

adoptee, Adoption recovery, Balkan Wars, Croatia, Music, Neoclassical Arhcitecture, Travel, Truth, Vukovar

On a recent cruise on the Danube River through Eastern Europe, I fell in love with each new place. But of all five countries—Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria and Romania—I was most captivated by Croatia. Having survived occupations, brutal wars, cultural genocide, and economic disaster, Croatia, with its beautiful scenery, young population, and neoclassical architecture amidst gutted out buildings, is an upbeat location.

My travel buddy Gloria and I are out walking. It is a peaceful Sunday afternoon in Vukovar, Croatia, a city of 25,000. Ravaged through the1990s by the Balkan Wars, the city conveys an air of survival. It offers a sobering combination: lovely Neoclassical architecture as well as gutted out buildings.

“Why,” asked a fellow travelers, doesn’t the government just raze these wrecked buildings and rebuild? Why let them fall into further decrepitude?”

Our guide intimates that there are two main reasons. Many of the original owners of these sad buildings fled the country and cannot be located. Additionally, there is a nationwide shortage of money. Rebuilding will take a long, long time. In outlying areas beyond the peaceful town of Vukovar, there are still minefields. German Shepherds are sniffing out explosives.

We stroll about, enjoying the open city arcade with its traditional obelisk, a monument surrounded by statues: saints, mythological figures, military heroes. The yellow and white municipal buildings lend an air of order and civility to this formerly war-torn area.

Sunday strolling in the heart of Vukovar

Back onboard our longship, theVili, we are treated to a quintet of Croatian musicians, a group that calls itself “Veritas.” Strumming and plucking a variety of stringed instruments,the young musicians serenade us. They are exuberant and clearly talented. One feels that they are living up to their name, “Veritas.” (In Roman mythology, Veritas, meaning truth, was the goddess of truth, a daughter of Saturn and the mother of Virtue.)

The virtue of truthfulness, was considered one of the main virtues any good Roman should possess.  The truth of Croatia, it seems, is that life goes on.

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Join Elaine every other Monday for a new post. She writes about adoption, hiking and life. You’re invited to comment!

Adoptee’s Annual Shakespeare Contest

Tags

adoptee, Adoption recovery, Contest, Love. Mortality, Poetry, Quotations, Seasons, Shakespeare

FOUR HUNDRED YEARS OLD! April marks the BIRTHDAY of great English poet and

Remembering Shakespeare on April 23

playwright, William Shakespeare. For me, it means ADOPTING SHAKESPEARE- HIS LANGUAGE, HIS PLAYS, HIS SONNETS, and you’re invited to join in. On Saturday, the Sweet Swan of Avon (who lived from April 23, 1564-April 23, 1617) turns 400! To celebrate Shakespeare’s Birthday, please send (via Twitter, to @TheGoodbyeBaby) your favorite Shakespearean quotations, thereby entering my annual Shakespeare contest.   Quotation competition takes place in the Twitterverse. To be considered, send your quotations via the Internet,  posting them on Twitter.

Sonnet 73 is one of my favorites in the Bard’s magnificent canon. The narrator speaks of the ravages of time on one’s physical well-being and the mental anguish associated with moving further from youth and closer to death. The “death,” point out critics, may be not may be the end of life but rather, the demise of youth and passion. Beginning when I first read this poem in a college literature class,  I’ve appreciated it more each year. Sometimes I focus on the narrator’s sadness, other occasions on the tenderness and love. Read Sonnet 73 aloud and see what resonates with you.

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day,
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by-and-by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
-William Shakespeare

At the contest’s end (TBA), copies of Shakespeare scholar Robin Williams’ “The Shakespeare Papers” will be mailed to the four best entries. As the song goes, “Brush up on your Shakespeare…start quoting him now.” My contest runs through May 1.

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Author Elaine Pinkerton posts bi-weekly about adoption, hiking, and life. Comments are welcome.

 

 

Excavating the Real You

Tags

adoption, Adoption recovery, Authenticity, Diaries, Gratitude, Liberation, memoir

Self-discovery demands some heavy lifting!

“I am the only person in the world I should like to know thoroughly.” -Oscar Wilde

Do you find it natural to be yourself or do you hide behind a facade?

What does it mean to be “authentic”?  As an adult adoptee, these are the questions I’ve grappled with for a lifetime. This quest for “authenticity” may not be true for every adoptee, but for me it is central.
That said, for the past five years, I’ve been on a quest for truth in defining myself. In my case, there was always the feeling that a biological child would have been the first preference of my adoptive parents. Even though assured that I was “the chosen one,” I grew up fearing I was a substitute for the child that might have been.
Ever since I could hold a pen, I’ve kept a daily diary A lifetime of chronicling every day generates many volumes. Four years ago, I decided to dig through my journals, particularly those from childhood into early adulthood. I pulled out the sections that pertained to growing up adopted and turned them into The Goodbye Baby-A Diary About Adoption (AuthorHouse, 2012). I’d written guidebooks (Santa Fe on Foot, The Santa Fe Trail by Bicycle), books about WWII (From Calcutta with Love, Beast of Bengal) but never a book about my own journey.
The diaries, 40 small volumes of “notes to myself,” revealed how being adopted

Decades of diaries became my memoir, The Goodbye Baby

shaped my decisions and my life’s trajectory. With a sense of Duty to Self and the hope of helping other adoptees, I opted to “go public” with the past in all its aspects. I was able, after publication of The Goodbye Baby, to move forward. It was liberating; it was necessary; it was illuminating.
Whether you were adopted or not, I’d like to offer guidelines for a personal “excavation.” To gain a better understanding of how YOUR past has shaped you, be willing to do the following:
1. Dig with your pen. Trace your life. Consider the choices you have made up until now. Is there a long-buried dream that calls to you? Perhaps you now have the wisdom to make alterations in your dream so that it can come true.
2. Write a brief personal history. This could even take shape as an outline, to be expanded into a future memoir. Recall the home of your childhood, fast-forward to your teenage years, more ahead to your first home. This need not be comprehensive. Instead, pick details that resonate in memory.
3. Adopt what Henri Nouwen calls “The Discipline of Gratitude” Use your daily life as a cause for celebration. In the extreme, this could mean taking the worst moments of your life and turning them into blessings.
4. Finally, reorder your priorities. This requires peace of mind and clarity. With modern life’s fragmentation and the intrusive nature of technology, however, this task is more important than ever. Use meditation, yoga, and days spent in silence —whatever it takes—to realize what’s most important.
 In the final analysis, by excavating to see who you really are, you’ll be able to identify what truly matters in your life. It may be the most important journey you’ll ever make.

What has helped you in finding your true self? Please share your comments!

 

Say YES to Allowing

Tags

adoptee, Adoption recovery, Allowing, Energy, New Year, Permission, Playfulness

Note: Life Story Facilitator Ellen Antill has helped me greatly with recovery from the invisible woulds of adoption.  In today’s guest post, Ellen writes about a playful kind of freedom that can be applied to ones writing, emotional development, and living life more authentically.  I’ll be adding the key idea—allowing—to my 2015 guiding principles. Whatever your journey, you might want to join her in adopting the word ALLOWING.
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I have a very dear friend who, at the beginning of each new year, chooses the kind of sandbox she wants to play in.  In other words, she sets an intention for the life experience she wants to call into reality.

I began a similar custom a while back, selecting a guiding internal energy for the fresh year.  And I love my friend’s emphasis on playing, or thriving, in a particular kind of environment of her own creation.

What guiding energy will you choose for 2015?  What sandbox do you want to play in?

I’ll be playing in the allowing sandbox.

Allowing is all about giving myself time and space to rest and care for myself with luxurious abundance . . . asking the dreams I envision personally and professionally to easily flow into my life . . . allowing myself to release pushing and pressuring myself to accomplish timelines and agendas.

Allowing means calling in genuine vulnerability and peaceful strength to set the pace for my journey . . . inviting fears to dissipate . . . fear that I won’t “make it” (what does that mean anyway, “making it?”), fear that I’ll appear incompetent if I don’t have it all together, fear that I won’t have all the answers to move forward.

Allowing means letting unconditional love fill my spirit and come pouring right on through to touch everyone in my world.

In her own words…
One of the key reasons Ellen is on the planet is to facilitate the Storytellers process, a personal growth experience she designed 10 years ago for older girls and women.  Much of this process is about providing an emotionally safe environment where girls and women – individually or in small groups — can share and embrace their “original stories” and learn to love themselves.  Storytellers also supports girls and women in creating vibrant new life stories for their present and future.

Ellen Antill, M.A.
Founder/Executive Director
Storytellers: Women Creating New Life Stories
(505) 577-3930
storywomen60@gmail.com
http://www.storywomen.wordpress.com

Haiku Monday

Tags

adoption, Adoption recovery, awareness, birds, haiku, Nature, reflectiveness, Snow, Winter

In dealing with adoption questions such as, Are my “real” parents my adoptive mom and dad or the parents who are biologically related to me?, I’ve learned that a lot depends on perspective. Some people, especially those living in the harsher climes, look at winter as tedious, dreary, uncomfortable. Others, ignoring the cold, choose to notice the beauty. Today’s guest blogger and poet Roberta Fine has adopted the season in all its loveliness. She’s chosen details that feed the spirit and imagination. As we begin the shortest days of the year, enjoy her Haiku Scenes of Winter…

Baldy disappears

Above the Clouds

Behind descending veil–

Birds crowd feeder.

****************

Brown, wrinkled, puffy–

Frozen apples still on tree

Feed the winter birds.

*****************

Ravens trail coyote,

Hoping he’s a good hunter,

Will leave leftovers.

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Cooking up a stew—

Birds aren’t the only ones who like apples even if they’re frozen.

Sunlight streaming through window

In my warm kitchen.

****************

Mountain emerges

From cloud in late afternoon—

Sparkling, massive jewel.

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Winter moon shining

Softly on violet snow—

Dogs barking to come in.

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Shopping for some bread

In the store a stranger’s smile

Brightens the cold, grey day.

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Cutting wind shakes trees.

Scatters seeds from bird feeder.

Birds peck through ice film.

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NOTE FROM ELAINE: Adoption issues occupied up my psychological “real estate” for too many years. It was more than time to transcend them, to wake up and live more positively. Christmas and the holiday season, I propose, offer the perfect time to shed any self-images that tarnish and corrode. The luminosity of Roberta Fine’s winter haikus reminded me of the world’s beauty.  What are YOUR favorite winter images? I’d love to hear about them! Please comment below or reach me on Twitter @TheGoodbyeBaby.

See the world through adoption-colored glasses-Every other Monday.

 

My Magic Mountain

Tags

adoptee, Adoption recovery, Celebrating Adoption, healing, Hiking, mountains, national adoption awareness month, outdoors, serenity, trails

To celebrate National Adoption Month, I hereby adopt a mountain.

Monte Sol gives me inspiration for writing and a new appreciation for simply being alive.

. Allow me to explain…

Readers may know that my favorite short day hike is Sun Mountain, often called by its Spanish name, “Monte Sol.” Along with three other prominent foothills of the Rockies, it offers a distinctive silhouette. The skyline of southeastern Santa Fe goes like this: Picacho Peak, a near triangle topped by a slanted nipple shape; long galumphing Atalaya, a favorite five-mile hike; and Monte Sol, the most perfectly symmetrical of the three.

Monte Sol is beautiful and convenient. I go there almost every day. When the City of Santa Fe gained permission from landowners for access from the road, they established a trailhead to Monte Sol. It was a landslide victory for local and visiting walkers. The path up Monte Sol became more accessible to not just me (I happen to live practically next door) but to everyone in the world. Often it’s an up-and-down affair, but when I have time, I take advantage of rocky outdoor seating that’s perfect for sunning, meditating, eating a sandwich, writing, or simply watching the clouds drift by.

Though it’s only 8/10ths of a mile to the top of Monte Sol, the elevation gain is nearly

Almost there!

1,000 feet. The steepness makes for a good workout. The final third of the ascent involves over 100 switchbacks and requires one to step up, up, and ever up.

The hike proceeds in three acts: a beginning, middle and end. The first section of path is curved but gentle. The second takes the hiker up a series of large rocks and to a view less of the city below than toward other, unnamed foothills. The contours became darker as the day advances. The final act, most demanding, requires careful footwork as the path narrows, at times disappearing. One mounts a virtual rock staircase, finally reaching a ten-foot wide rock that looks as though it might have been an ocean floor.

From then on, it’s a mostly dirt walkway until the “Ah Ha” moment of reaching the top. Surprisingly, the summit of Monte Sol is a flat area the size of a couple football fields. A panoramic view unfolds in every direction, and one can understand why early settlers compared the high desert terrain to a kind of inland ocean. The southwestern palate of green, sage, tan, brown and purple stretch beneath one in layers. Huge white clouds billow overhead.

There, with the city stretched out below, the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and the Pecos Wilderness to the North, the seeker can find peace and serenity. On warm afternoons, it is often tempting to stay awhile, basking in the sun like a lazy lizard.

That said, though one can find solitude here, on this particular Sunday afternoon, I encounter a dozen other hikers. There’s the man with the Irish Setter with a yellow bandana around his neck (the dog’s neck, not the man’s). Along come the mothers of small children who’ve managed to train their little ones to tackle the arduous walk but to make it fun, and the young woman with headphones who is running rather than walking. I can’t imagine how she would jog the steeper boulder sections, but assume she pauses to pick over the rocks before continuing her fast pace.

Then I remember my younger self, a Me who was always running and training for the next marathon. I would not have been daunted by a few precipitous passes. A lifetime ago…I miss those running days. And yet, I’m grateful to be covering the same territory. I’m glad to be out here, slower but still strong.

Enough of Monte Sol musing. It’s time to leave the summit and head back down into the real world. I watch gigantic black birds circling overhead and take a final look at the distant road stretching south to Albuquerque, then hike down to the flatlands. I know my adopted trail much better now, and I feel completely ready for an afternoon of writing.

Do YOU have a path that leads you to serenity and healing? Please let me know about your best hiking trail, and, without mentioning your name, I’ll be happy to share your reflections with my followers.

Elaine at the top of Monte Sol, Atalaya Peak looming in the background.

The End is the Beginning

Tags

adoptee, Adoption recovery, labyrinth, Labyrinth Resource Group, Liberation, Renewal, Summer Solstice, Walking

The sun reminds us to open our hearts to life and love.

As a “recovering adoptee,” I welcome every opportunity to break loose from adoption issues. My favorite way to achieve a fresh attitude is walking the circular path, the labyrinth. On June 21, I went to a late afternoon Summer Solstice Walk. The event was sponsored by the Labyrinth Resource Group in Santa Fe, NM. Perfect conditions: mild temperature, clear view of surrounding foothills and mountains, a congenial group of labyrinth enthusiasts, live harp music. The sun just setting. Before we entered the circular path, we read the following inspirational poem, contributed by poet Mary Ann Wamhoff and written to “celebrate the infusion of light from the summer sun.” In honor of the new season, I present her reflections…

Solar Power
We’re heading toward the Light
drawn toward the Light
entering this longest day
reaching for fullness of being
gravitating to it
just like a phototropic plant!
consciously leaving behind any darkness
leaving all darkness behind
any pettiness, stuckness
any narrow-mindedness, prejudgments
“my-way-or-no-way” attitudes
“I-can’t-do-this” points of view
releasing what is passing away
the unproductive
any hindrance to our becoming full, rich, complete
releasing duality, either/or, distractions
limited notions
Just let it go.
Let it all go–
what is old, past, done, less-than-useful
killing creativity
strangling our spirits
fearful, selfish, withered, dry, dissonant, dim

Walking the Labyrinth is a good practice for every season.

We’re standing in the longest Light
receiving its Goodness
Just like a plant, needing it to grow
to become who we really are
receiving the Love it contains
absorbing All Life
letting this warmth penetrate each cell, aspect, fragment, facet of our Being
taking it in
holding it close and dear
allowing it to work its Mystery
to have its way within us
becoming new, remade
We are rising from the depths of despair and hopelessness
embracing all Good
embracing this Light

embracing this brightness
merging with trust, truth, joy, fullness of possibilities

We’re returning with Light
shining!
emerging with Life!
Love to share
ready to be instruments of this Brightness
this Sweet energy
and focus it
to dispel any darkness
carrying Abundance
effusing this Power
stars walking here on Earth!

The labyrinth is simple: One enters, walks to the center, pauses to pray or meditate, turns the opposite direction, then walks out. Walking the labyrinth is a way to get in touch with who you really are, to bring insights to bear on your life. As I journey toward wholeness and freedom from past invisible wounds of adoption, I realize the wisdom of the labyrinth. The door that closes opens to an “infusion of light” and a fresh start.

Join Elaine every Monday for reflections on adoption and life.

 

 

Goofy gets the Boot

Tags

Adoption recovery, Creativity, De-cluttering, Diaries, Liberation, memoir, Purge, Simplify, Streamlining, Stuff

“Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden and Other Writings

A year ago, I decided to get serious about re-purposing my old friend Mickey Mouse. I sold Mickey, Minnie and a host of other stuffed toys.  Because they were smaller, I kept Bugs Bunny and Goofy. Now even they have to go… I’m  once again de-cluttering.

Staging yet another garage sale is the only way I can escape the “too much stuff” syndrome. All of May, I’ve been walking around my house, collecting things with which I must part, labeling, pricing, and stacking said stuff in a spare room.
This personal de-acquisitioning campaign started with the publication of my adoption memoir The Goodbye Baby-A Diary about Adoption. It was so liberating to review four decades of past emotional “baggage” and then burning the diaries themselves, I realized that my too-much-stuff problem could be tackled. The late diaries went up in smoke, and that gave me courage. It was OK to get rid of something that had once been precious. In publishing my “diary book,” I’d saved the essence of those journals, which was all I needed: First the diaries, then the house and everything in it. There was no turning back.
My house is too big and yet not big enough. I have, from time to time, had grown children temporarily moving back home. Finally I gave up on having a guest room and declared that part of my home as the re-launching pad. Gone were my extra cabinets and shelves, dressers, bookshelves and desk drawers. I knuckled under and gradually removed my stuff from “their” space.
Do I get my precious storage space back? I wish! The adult child moves on but the stuff remains. This situation has forced me to take a serious look at all my now “extra” ousted-from-the-guest-room belongings. Turns out that a few friends, for various reasons, are  also being overwhelmed by possessions.  As a last resort, we’ve scheduled yet another garage sale.
This weekend my friends and I will be selling our excesses. Whatever doesn’t sell, we will give to charity. Our motto: This tyranny of things is exhausting and we’re not going to take it anymore.
Must sign off now, as the kitchen and dining room tables are loaded up with items that must be priced and relegated to the garage sale mountain.
*Use it or LOSE it.
*LESS is MORE.
*Empty is BEAUTIFUL

Join Elaine every Monday for reflections about life after Adoption Recovery.

Postcards from the Ledge

Tags

adoptee, Adoption recovery, aging, Attitude adjustment, C.G. Jung, discover, empower, family, Hiking, Monte Sol in Santa Fe, Rowing, The Privilege of Aging, The Transition Network

Dear Readers, I am still writing  about adoption-related issues. For this week, however, I’m venturing into another “A” word–>AGE! Not a popular topic here in

Monte Sol gives “old as the hills” new meaning

the Blogosphere, but nonetheless, I’m tackling it.
I’m lucky enough to live right across the road from a hiker-friendly foothill of the Rocky Mountains, Sun Mountain, or as it’s dubbed by the locals, “Monte Sol.” In fact, I am just back from a morning hike with my older son, who’s here visiting for a few weeks.    That is, we started out together.  As I was rounding the last switchback before the summit’s flat viewing area, my son strolled over to me as though he’d been waiting for a bit. For him, Monte Sol was the mere beginning of a trifecta hike.
We stood at the windy overlook and briefly discussed the possibilities. Even though my son urged me to continue with him to “Monte Luna” (Moon Mountain), I told him that I was happy to master just the first peak.
“Another time for Luna, ” I suggested. That was fine with him, and he

Join me every week for reflections on adoption and life!

took off down into the rocky gulch that led to another steep ascent. He disappeared into the pinon-lined canyon while I ambled solo down Monte Sol. I’d walked at top speed going up. Going down, I took time to enjoy views and reflect on the difference between our generations.
I do not feel “old,” but I am now older than I could ever have imagined being. Because I’m enjoying what Swiss psychotherapist C. G. Jung called the “afternoon” of life, it seems that my powers of adaptation have increased even as physical capabilities have diminished. When I was half my age, I ran marathons. Now I walk up Monte Sol, and that is enough.
Everyone we know—including ourselves— will someday be old-ER, or even (gasp) really OLD.  It’s not really cause for lament but rather for celebration. A reminder: not everyone reaches the “privilege of aging,” to quote the title of my friend Patricia Shapiro’s excellent book (The Privilege of Aging: Portraits of Twelve Jewish Women).
Perhaps because I have grown more accepting of my adoptee status, life seems to be offering many opportunities to reflect on this phenomenon of growing older.
I can’t help but notice that some friends who are considerably younger than I am are passing away, and it hurts. Each loss of a friend or loved one nibbles away, reminders of mortality.
Recently I attended an excellent discussion group hosted by The Transition Network. It comprised women, some of whom were in their fifties, others in their 60s and 70s.  The evening began with a writing session during which we were to imagine ourselves at age 80. After writing for 20 minutes, we shared our thoughts.
Nearly everyone in the group imagined themselves as healthy and mentally active. Other visions of being eighty included always learning and challenging the mind, being a good friend and having friends of all ages, making the choice to be happy, being unafraid of the advancing numbers.
One woman shared her experience of being on a rowing team in college, training every day no matter what the weather was up to. Most days of rowing training, she said, ranged from pleasant to difficult but some were nearly impossible. She related the challenges of rowing on days when wind howled and rain pelted, and she recalled the words of her coach. “Just keep rowing — no matter what.”
Be it gently rowing down the stream, toiling upstream, or just rowing through, perseverance and adaptation are keys to enjoying life’s passages. In dealing with both adoption and aging, it is best to simply “Row, row, row your boat…”