“THE BEGINNING IS ALWAYS TODAY.”

Mary Shelley

Happy Spring Equinox everyone! Today is the first day of spring, which officially begins at 3:24 p.m. PST for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere. The Spring Equinox is also known as the Vernal Equinox, or the “First Point of Aries.” Interestingly, vernal translates to “new” and “fresh,” and equinox comes from the Latin, aequus (equal) and nox (night). Today the sun’s rays shine onto the equator while the Earth sits with its axis tilted neither toward nor away from the sun, which causes 12 hours of sunlight almost everywhere on Earth. Day and night last almost the same amount of time, though one may get a few extra minutes, depending on where you are on the planet. So cool!

In the past, I’ve been more of an autumn kinda person, but it’s been so rainy and cold this fall/winter season, I’m looking forward to more sun and warmer weather! The spring season brings with it increased daylight and more time outdoors, a sense of blooming everywhere, and of course, warmer temperatures. In a spiritual and metaphysical sense, the Spring Equinox is associated with rebirth and renewal, both in a worldly sense, e.g., spring flowers budding, new growth etc., but also in a personal sense – a fresh start, a sense of shifting. For me, it’s a time to pause, reflect, set some new intentions, renew gratitude, and breathe. Where do I want and need to make shifts? What do I need to let go of? What do I need to welcome more of? I can think of a lot of things I need to let go of. Letting go of stuff is hard sometimes, especially when patterns and ways of being have long been established, but are clearly no longer of service.

I recently listened to a talk by Tara Brach. She spoke of habit energy, the way we try to control our way through the day. Habit energy is associated with the Buddhist tradition. It’s the habitual chasing after the future in our thoughts, a blockage of our ability to be in the present moment. Tara also refers to it as “the big squeeze,” which resonates so deeply with me. It’s this potent force that tends to yank me through my day, propelling me to rush through tasks in order to get to the next one, often when there is no need to rush at all (this sense to rush or of urgency is common in those who have experienced chronic trauma). I’m well acquainted with habit energy and “the big squeeze.” They are old friends…yes, this too. Though I usually welcome old friends, I can’t say I’m happy when the big squeeze comes to visit. It’s my highest intention to send it on its way and invite more meditative experiences into my life this spring season and beyond.

So, today I’ve planned a little ritual to pause. To reflect and set new intentions, regenerate old ones, and be grateful for what is and is to become. As I enjoy the flicker and warmth of a favorite candle sitting on my desk, Max Richter’s Spring playing softly in the background, I’m basking in what’s most important to me. Relationships, creativity, learning, music, art, nature, animals, gratitude. Of all of these, gratitude is the toughest to maintain. With that, I gently remind myself of what I have, gifts within and all, who I’ve become and am becoming, despite great adversity and what others think.

If you’re interested in Spring Equinox rituals and traditions, there’s a great little article at Sunset Magazine called 12 ways to Celebrate the Spring Equinox and Welcome a Brand New Season. I especially like the Renewal Ritual suggested. And here is another great article by Michelle Holling-Brooks, March 2023 Equinox: Calling Forward Balance, Harmony, and Nourishment! with other suggestions.

MAY YOU BE HAPPY,

MAY YOU BE WELL,

MAY YOU BE SAFE,

MAY YOU BE PEACEFUL

AND AT EASE.

Jack Kornfield

I’ve been working with a consultant lately. She’s amazing – skilled, experienced, all the things. After my first consultation, she told me, “Just keep doing what you do best.” Hmm. I went a little blank. What do I do best? I peered inside, and here’s what came up. Nothing. I mean “nothing” is what I do best. No, really…Nada. Doing absolutely nothing is, like, my jam. Or, perhaps it’s just that I like – I jest – prefer doing nothing, which, unmistakably, is when I’m at my best.

I understand what my consultant was trying to say, God bless her. She meant, until I’ve gained more skill with the thing I was consulting on, just keep doing what I do best, keep moving forward. I think it was meant to be hopeful and helpful. Little did she know, nothing is my best. Ha. That certainly cannot be good for business.

Then the other night I was watching Eat, Pray, Love, the movie. You know, the one with Julia Roberts, based on the book by Elizabeth Gilbert? Elizabeth Gilbert inspires me. I love her podcast, Magic Lessons with Elizabeth Gilbert, her strength, her character, her vulnerability and authenticity. In the movie, the phrase dolce far niente comes up. Dolce far niente or il dolce far niente means, the sweetness of doing nothing. I dig it. I mean, just saying, dolce far niente, out loud is dreamy. Try it.

I know, I know…the phrase was made more popular by the book and movie franchise. I can’t help but believe, however, that the Italians have something that’s greatly missing for many of us living in America, including myself…this essence of doing nothing and enjoying it. That’s the kicker. It’s a way of life, a culture, a way of being. Enjoying doing nothing. Nothingness is that pleasant experience of enjoying time going by and not letting your thoughts take over, where all that matters is living in the moment – No stress, no pressure, nothing matters, just living in the moment, a “doing nothing” moment. Does it feel wrong, unnatural, suspicious? That’s the problem, right?

This is when I urgently tell myself, “It’s okay that you’re doing nothing but writing this post about nothing. It’s okay to let go, to be present and enjoy the process of writing, the fun with words and phrases. And, dammit, stop thinking about work and increasing my skill set for a blazing second.” Deep breath and a sigh.

So maybe there is something good about what I do best, which is, need I remind you and myself, nothing. Maybe if I practiced, nay embodied “the sweetness of nothing,” I’d be happier, less tired, less stressed, and feel freer. Maybe it’d take some years off. Wouldn’t that be freakin’ awesome? I dunno about your 2023, but mine has been bumpy. Turbulent. I got swept up in a whirlwind, tailwind, whatever you wanna call it, before I knew what hit me. Albeit, some of the circumstances were beyond my control. In any case, I lost sight and did a poor job navigating the winds. As things amped up, dolce far niente felt beyond my grasp.

And, I get it. We live in a culture where “running around” is common. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been in “learning and training” mode. It’s exhausting. My work/life balance got terribly unbalanced. It seems so easy to disengage from the things that bring peace and serenity to my life – being in nature, meditation, yoga, creative projects – in order to make room for obligations. Obligations should not take up that much space and deplete that much life force energy. It’s time to downshift and get back to what is needed.

I’m happy to say that the winds have died down. It’s not completely smooth sailing, but life never really is, is it? I’m setting a new course, something bound to happen again and again, no doubt. Getting back to what I do best. Nothing. The sweetness of doing nothing. And guess what, I’m gonna enjoy it.

I woke up at 3:30am yesterday morning, Veteran’s Day. I tried to get back to sleep, but my mind was wandering. I couldn’t shake what I can only describe as sorrow. I have to say that most of the time, sorrow follows me. It’s just kinda right there, right on the edge of consciousness. For days, maybe weeks, I have been thinking about our first dog, Peppermint, our adorable miniature dachshund. We had to say good-bye to her four years ago. What was not obvious to us back then was the amount of suffering Peppermint was experiencing due to arthritis and a sensitive back. She had become aggressive over the years, but I didn’t connect the dots. I’ll talk more about that later.

On the morning we said good-bye, Peppermint could no longer walk and wasn’t eating, though she seemed oriented. The day before, I knew she wasn’t well. My husband insisted “it was time.” I felt so helpless. Peppermint usually slept in her crate, but knowing it was difficult for her to move, I put her little dog bed right next to me so that I could check on her. I was worried sick and knew she was declining. At my husband’s urging, we took her to the veterinarian the next morning. My heart was so heavy. I tried desperately to keep my emotions in check to ease Peppermint’s anxiety. She always hated going to the vet.

We left the vet that morning without Peppermint. The days and weeks that followed were tortuous. It was the first time ever in my life that I couldn’t bear to listen to music. Peppermint loved music and used to lie on the back of the couch listening and sleeping while I played piano.

The clock just kept ticking, I checked the time. 4:30am. I remembered Peppermint, so many memories, and how much I missed her. There was no holding back the tears. In my grief, I began to sense strongly Pepper’s presence. She was comforting me. I could see her sweet face and tiny body. She gave me a message. Many will think it was my imagination, a means to self-soothe in the midst of grief. I think, however, that Pepper was communicating with me, letting me know she was okay and no longer suffering. It’s not the first time I’ve connected with beings that have passed, although such occurrences are rare and only come at certain times. We stayed like that till the morning light broke through. It suddenly dawned on me that Veteran’s Day, four years ago, was the day we said good-bye. Though my wake mind didn’t immediately recall this, my body did. And, It was as though Pepper was paying me a visit on the anniversary of her passing. Why this year and not last or even further back? More on that later. I told Pepper how sorry I was that I didn’t see the pain she suffered long before her last days, not only the physical pain, but emotional, too. She (like so many other dogs) experienced terrible separation anxiety that I’m afraid we failed to pay attention to. I told Pepper that I wish I’d known her suffering and done better so that she would have been better and happier. Guilt, an old friend, came a visiting, too. Pepper reassured me that it was okay.

Why does any of this matter? What I have learned in my healing journey, through therapy, meditation, and particularly through connecting with horses, is how very disconnected from my own body I have been for many, many years. Working with horses brought that to the light and into my awareness in the most profound way. Because I lacked attunement to self, it was rather difficult to be attuned to others, whether animal or human.

That lack of connection to self, shutting down of self, began early in my life, at the very beginning. Adoption, separation, emotional/psychological abuse (across my life), fear, rupture, all of it led to a disappearing of self, a disconnect. While growing up, I learned that it was not safe to speak up when I had a need, or I might get disciplined or worse, dismissed. Despair, fear, anxiety were not safe. Better to hide them. I believe that the despair I experienced as a young child was rooted in loss. Loss, too, is an old friend. I experience it acutely, the separation from a loved one (human and nonhuman) whether in real life, a movie, a book, etc., is intense. And I absolutely hate crying in front of others. Crying is a vulnerable behavior, and I realize now, feels unsafe, embarrassing, in the presence of others. When I was a little girl, I didn’t want to cry in front of my mother. She was not safe. So, when upset, I cried alone, despaired alone, coped alone.

Yesterday, I let myself be sorrowful. As I sat across from my therapist, sharing my sadness, I noticed tears welling up in her eyes, too. She said, “It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry; it’s good. There is healing, physiologically, when we cry. You’ve had so much sorrow and never grieved it. Instead, you buried it. It’s time to let yourself grieve…” Such sorrow and grief is heavy, but to grieve is also freeing. There are some sorrows that stay with us. They may become less vivid with time, but nevertheless remain a part of us.

I think that I was able to have that moment with Peppermint yesterday morning, to notice her presence, because I’m more connected and attuned to self than I’ve ever been, not that I’ve arrived. I learned so long ago to tune out self, to tune out intuition. She was insignificant, small, weak. Sometimes, in those moments when I feel insignificant, I take the hand of my younger self and say to her, “No! You are significant; you are resilient and strong. Don’t let any human trick you into feeling any different.” That strong, resilient, significant, and wise self is becoming more authentic by the day. Some days, I fight really hard for her and hang on tight.

So all of this has to do with connecting to self. Learning, growing, fucking it all up, healing, finding supportive others, and embracing self. But also finding peace in traveling your own journey, not someone else’s. It has taken me a very long time to know that I am good, what I believe is good, where I’m heading is good, what I want for myself is good. May you find (or continue to find) what is meaningful and good for you. And, to my dear, sweet Peppermint, thank you for sharing your unconditional love, wisdom, and care with me. You will be ever present in my heart.

I’m an adopted individual. Like many adoptees, parts of my history are a fill in the blank. I reunited with my first family ten years ago. Despite what many assume, reunion does not always mean that all your questions about your early beginnings get answered. There are still many missing pieces that leave me to wonder. And there are many different reasons why pieces remain missing. Perhaps, the language barrier. And, out of respect for my first family, I don’t ask a lot of questions, as I sense that it’s distressing. I did gain answers to some of my questions. There are still voids. I will never have the opportunity to meet my first parents, as by the time I reunited with my first family, my parents had passed on. I will never know why my adoptive parents told me mistruths about my birth heritage (I learned they were mistruths), as they too have passed on. The wonders feel like a big, dark hole in my heart. I don’t sense into it often; however, I know it’s there, deep down inside. I know it can be triggered unexpectedly in moments when I feel flooded with deep loss and/or threat. So, here are seven wonders that I have around my adoption. Perhaps some of them resonate with you.

1. Did my birth mother ever think about me? I learned from my biological sisters that our father relinquished me to an orphanage secretly. I was adopted at the age of four months from the orphanage. My sisters shared that they remembered visiting me at the babysitter’s after school, holding me and such. Then one day, I wasn’t there anymore. I wonder if my first mother mourned. Did she try to find me? How did my relinquishment impact the family once I was gone? Did she love me? As I write this, I feel that big, dark hole in my heart opening up just a little.
2. Did I attach to my birth mother? Did she hold me, feed me, make eye contact ? Did she take care of me? Knowing what I know now about attachment, I recognize that I didn’t get a whole lot of it during my early years. I can’t recall a single time my adoptive parents ever played with me. There are pictures of them holding me, smiling for the camera, but were there moments of connection? Moments of bonding? I grew up scared most of my childhood and adolescence, so I wonder.
3. What were my first parents like? What was my birth mother’s personality like? I learned from my bio sisters that she was a teacher and loved classical music. Was she kind? Was she loving? Are we similar in any other ways? My sisters told me that I look like our mother when she was younger, although there are no pictures left of her as a young woman. In my memoir, I tell of a time when I “saw” my first and adoptive mothers. It was during a Guided Imagery & Music (GIM-Bonny Method) training I took with some music therapy classmates years ago. It was quite emotional. I remember it like it happened yesterday. During my “traveling” experience, my birth mother told me she gave me the gift of music, and the whole experience was like my adoptive mother telling me, “I want you to know this now.” My adoptive mom purposely hid so much of my adoption history. I often wonder what my first parents were like.
4. Why was I relinquished? On my adoption contract – which stayed hidden in my parents’ attic till after my adoptive mother’s death – it states that “the family was impoverished.” I assume that to be true according to what my bio sisters shared. I believe that there was stress, tension, anxiety in the home of my first family. But what was the breaking point? What may have happened that led up to my going away? I wonder.
5. Did my birth father ever regret relinquishing me, or mourn my absence? I surmise that we never bonded. He must have felt a lot of something to take me away. Was it anger, was it pressure? Did I cry a lot? Was I just another mouth to feed? Was there something wrong with me? I hear that a lot from other adoptees, a resounding, “I don’t belong. I don’t fit in.” Unconsciously, I think other adoptees feel that (not a generalization). It’s a message that gets transmitted nevertheless. A deep sense of unworthiness and shame is often at the core of some of the patterns we develop later in life.
6. What do my extended birth family members think about me now that we have met? I reunited with my extended first family on the Eve of the Lunar New Year, 2012. I met my Uncle, the patriarch of the family, my niece and nephew, and my sisters’ husbands, as well as close family friends. My two biological sisters and brother were also there. I spent daily time with my sisters during my entire visit, and I remember not wanting them to think that I was spoiled in any way, or had an easier life. I maintain contact with my sisters and my niece and nephew via social media and direct messaging. My niece is now married, and she and her husband have two little girls. I’m also connected to my brother on social media. I experienced nothing but kindness and generosity from my family. It was so special to meet them all. I often felt like I was floating. It was one of the happiest times in my life, and of course, life changing. I felt accepted, but I wonder if they too wonder about what happened.
7. Will I ever feel like I fit in? This is the greatest challenge I’ve experienced as a result of being adopted. I’m Asian and grew up in a predominantly white community. Yes, racial teasing. Yes, racism, prejudice, microaggressions, still. Yes, tried so hard to “fit in.” Yes, rejected my cultural roots well into adulthood. Yes, it hurt. In everything I did and do today, the feeling of not fitting in is pervasive. Through therapy, I have learned skills to recognize, befriend (this is a work in progress), and cope with this deeply rooted sense and internal message. Some days, it’s overwhelming and really hard. Most people in my circle, including family and friends, don’t get it. It’s hard for them to understand or empathize. So I cope, alone. Meditation, mindfulness, yoga, drawing, and music help. Music was my first love and remains so at the very core of my being. But I wonder, had I been offered safer connection during my early years, would I be different? Would I struggle less with shame, people pleasing, codependency? I think, yes. I said earlier, therapy has been instrumental in healing, growth, validation, and self-awareness. My therapist is not an adoptee, but she gets it and is very knowledgeable about attachment and trauma.

So, I wonder as I wander. I live each day in hopes that I’ll grow past my wonders. But, I think my wonders will always remain wonders. I have this hope. That perhaps I can offer support to other adoptees who have similar wonders.

Just over a week ago, the Department of State’s Bureau of Consular Affairs with the support of the U.S. Domestic Policy Council hosted a Symposium on Intercountry Adoption (ICA) in Washington DC. The purpose of the Symposium was to bring together a diverse group of ICA stakeholders in order to strengthen the future practice of intercountry adoption. Such stakeholders included professional adoption practitioners; attorneys; government officials from the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) and the Department of State; and Legislators as well as a number of others. Interested adoptive parents also attended, and historically, the Department invited adult adoptees as well as birth parents for the first time, as the Department’s aim was to “create a deeper understanding of the respective views and interests of each stakeholder group.” The Symposium gave a clearer comprehension of the roles of the many different governmental offices in intercountry adoption, and yet there is still much to learn about each entity and their direct roles. It became clear to me that our present system of intercountry adoption and the policies and regulations governing it are far more intricate than I imagined.

All of us care for the safety of children. All of us recognize their vulnerability. All of us want to protect them from those who would do them harm. Bringing all of us together, as this Symposium does, provides us with an opportunity to meet those goals in cooperation rather than in competition.

Carl Rische, Assistant Secretary of State for Consular Affairs

Despite moments of challenge, in the end, all agreed that safety of the children is utmost. For long now, fear, trauma, anger, and disconnect have made it extremely difficult for everyone involved to come together. I believe all members within the adoption constellation, that is birth parents, adoptees, and adoptive parents, have suffered tremendous loss, but those losses and how they are experienced and processed are uniquely individual. However, I’m not the first to say, adoptees have had the least voice and suffered the greatest losses, yet have the most to be learned from because of our lived experience. We all need far greater awareness and acknowledgment of the losses, fears of rejection, feelings of shame and guilt and our own processes of grief for true healing to occur. We have to hear each other’s voices and not be put off by them, find connection through difference. I experienced the Symposium as a step towards changing the current environment, an opportunity for all voices to be listened to, despite great disparity at times among different groups. All in all, if intercountry adoption is to exist and we agree that those who should “benefit” the most – the adopted child, youth, adult adoptee – then we must guarantee long-term healing, safety and permanence for the adoptee through adoption practice and policy that provides greater protections.

What Protections?

Citizenship For ALL Adoptees. Today, an estimated thousands of intercountry adoptees who were adopted by U.S. parents are without U.S. citizenship due to a loophole that exists in current legislation. They remain at risk, unable to access critical services and rights. According to 18 Million Rising, 35 intercountry adoptees have been deported with more being targeted. Current legislation (Child Citizenship Act of 2000) granted citizenship to foreign-born adoptees adopted by U.S. citizens; however, the bill did not take effect until February 27, 2001, and as a result, adoptees who were 18-years old or older at the time were not covered unbeknownst to adoptive parents and adoptees. Deportation causes another significant trauma to those adoptees. They are torn away from family and forced to live in a country where they were relinquished, where they do not speak the language, understand the culture, nor have known family. They were guaranteed a “better life,” one of permanence, and yet have been failed. The Citizenship Act of 2019 would fix the loophole in current legislation and grant automatic citizenship to all adoptees; however, the bill remains tied up in Congress. Adoptee activists continue to engage with Congressmen/women and Senators to advance this bill, yet increased and ongoing Adoptee and Ally support is needed. I urge you to support this bill, get involved by donating, volunteering and/or contacting your legislators. Learn more at Adoptees for Justice, Adoptee Rights Campaign, Adoptee Rights Law. And for a brief history of this legislation, click here.

Ethical Adoption Practices. Regulatory oversight is critical to ensuring the safety and protection of children, as we know that those who would cause harm for profit have existed under unethical adoption practices across the history of intercountry adoption. At the Symposium, adoptive parents, Adam and Jessica Davis, shared their story of adopting a five-year old girl, Namata, from Uganda only to learn a year and a half later, as Namata’s English improved, that she had a loving mommy who cared for her back home. Upon further investigation, the family learned that, indeed Namata was not an orphan. Her mother had been tricked into sending her daughter to a family in the U.S. whom she believed would provide for her education and then be later returned home. The Davis’ did a remarkable thing, eventually vacating the adoption and reuniting Namata with her mother in Uganda. This is one family who stood against those who urged them to keep Namata, despite the injustices again her mother and the abhorrent trafficking that occurred. Jessica stated in an interview with CNN.

After unveiling Namata’s true story and doing extensive research, I feel I have gained an awareness of the realities of corruption occurring across the board within international adoption. This complicated yet beautiful act of opening up a home and a heart to a child in need has become heavily corrupted by greed and saviorism.

Jessica Davis, adoptive parent and activist – quote used with permission.

The U.S. adoption agency the Davis family worked with was later debarred. This is only one story, one family, one example of unethical adoption practice, though others exist. And yet, “Harm to even one adopted child is unacceptable.” (Carl Rische, opening statement). Unregulating standards is not the answer, as some alluded to, but efforts to thoroughly investigate a child’s “orphan” status among other things must continue.

Additionally, unregulated custody transfers (UCTs), also known as rehoming, endanger the lives of adopted children. UCT’s occur when parents transfer the physical custody of their child to a person who is not the child’s parent or other adult relative, or adult friend of the family with whom the child is familiar, with the intent of permanently avoiding responsibility for the child’s care and without taking reasonable steps to ensure the child’s safety or permanency of the placement (Child Welfare Information Gateway). Children adopted through foster care and intercountry adoption are at greater risk for UCT. A recent study found challenges associated with these adoptions – the child’s complex physical and behavioral health needs and difficulties finding and, furthermore, paying for needed health services, may lead families to seek out unregulated transfers (Brown, K., Morrison, E., Hartjes, E., Nguyen, N., Sweet, A. 2015. Steps have been taken to address unregulated custody transfers of adopted children. Washington, DC: Government Accountability Office. Retrieved from http://www.gao.gov/products/GAO-15-733). There is legislation currently pending on unregulated custody transfers.

Post-Adoption Services. At this time, there is no federal or state regulation or oversight guiding implementation of post-adoption services. Adoption service providers across the country are at their own discretion to offer such services. We heard from a number of adoptive parents who expressed great difficulty accessing needed resources and support after the finalization of adoption. Adoption service providers themselves agreed that this is the case. We know that children who are adopted are at higher risk for developing emotional, psychological, and behavioral problems as a result of disrupted attachments, trauma and identity issues, even though physically they may thrive in a safe and loving home. The emotional, psychological, and physical state of the birth mother during pregnancy also has tremendous impact on the child. The child brings all of this trauma into the adoptive family, which impacts every member of the family system, including siblings. With this knowledge comes great responsibility to help that child heal. The adoption journey really begins post-adoption. Most services are terminated at that time, yet ongoing support during the first few months and years following are critical to the healthy development and healing of the child.

Lastly, there is legislation pending related to intercountry adoption, but outcomes remain to be seen. And finally, I want to thank the Department of State for welcoming adoptees and birth parents to the Symposium and for showing support to those of us who attended. Thank you to my fellow adoptees for your passion, determination, and tireless efforts to make our voices heard. Huge thanks to Lynelle Long, who blazed the way for us to attend this event. We’ve reached a pivotal point. It is my hope that Adoptees can work alongside other stakeholders to achieve change that brings increased safety, protection, and healing to adoptees. We do need to get it right because so much is at stake, now more than ever, and the way forward is to include adoptees as part of the process.

To read Carl Rische’s introductory remarks at the Symposium in full, click here.