Take Charge of Aging with Yoga! Splits Are a Bonus.

Splits at 70? Not a big deal. Seriously. Not.
Good party trick? Yes.

I'm taking a quick diversion from Nepal stories to expound about something as near and dear to my heart as travel or gardening. That's yoga. I bring this up because of the hubbub created by a recent photo of me on Facebook doing the splits at my surprise 70th birthday party. (Even though I am 69 for another week!)

I fell into the splits at the mere suggestion that I could. And yes, I am having the time of my life, even with the "older than dirt" birthday hat and the blazing candle sunglasses. And even in full-throttle exhibitionism. I should be ashamed, but I'm not.

The reason I can do the splits, touch my toes, do a push-up, hold a plank position for two minutes, put my socks and jeans on standing up, squat to pick weeds, flush airport toilets with my toe, lift heavy casseroles from the oven,  etc. etc. is because I practice yoga. But my point is, I am nothing special!

I've been in a yoga class with many of the same people-of-my-approximate-age for nearly 15 years.  I've seen them become stronger, more flexible and more balanced, the opposite of what might be expected as the years "just roll by like a broken down van" as Bonnie Raitt sang.

Here's Irene, seventy-something, one of about 15 people who show up regularly for a yoga class in Rogue River, the tiny Oregon burg near where PK and I live. Irene is one of five in the class who easily does the splits.  Many others are close.  The oldest class member is 85, with others in their 50s, 60s or 70s.

Yoga is my fitness strategy, my conditioning regime, my mental health fix. If you've never practiced yoga, you may think it's easy, just a bit of stretching, quiet time with your dreamy thoughts and a bunch of  granola chompers ooommmiinng under dim lights. You would be wrong.

Yoga can be physically and mentally demanding. If taken to its edge, it can be the most challenging thing you've ever done. I'm on the front end of yoga even after practicing for close to 20 years, and am grateful to have discovered it, even as I recognize that I know so little. I'm still on the physical side of yoga practice, but I experience at times, a deeper reality. I'm thinking meditative practice may be in my future.

For now, here's how I see it. Yoga poses go from easy to challenging to seemingly impossible (as doing the splits appears to many people). The objective is to be able to hold poses, which may require significant strength, balance, and flexibility, and separate yourself from the discomfort to concentrate on ..... something else. I'm not there yet. But I am able to breathe and sink more deeply into poses. And it feels good and has made me stronger and more confident all around. The same has happened to people in this class of what could now be called Yoga for Seniors! Although the teacher would never call it that because really, it is yoga for all ages and conditions.

Here's Lori Armstrong, a mere 59, easily doing the splits. But then, she IS a former gymnast.

Kay, 70, is SO close! She'll be doing the full splits sometime soon. It took me about FIVE years! And that's something else about yoga. Regular practice is key to everything that requires mastery. It took me years to do the splits, so how long will it take me to open my hips? I need to work harder.

Lyn, 69, is an accomplished yogi and the splits are no prob!

Teacher Denise Elzea, who is about to turn 65, and former student Lucille Sava, 72, who moved away since this photo was taken, are both super flexible and strong. 

Donn-Glenn Harris, 85,  can't do the full splits, although he is close! But he can hold the plank position for a couple minutes and do many other yoga poses. Did I mention he's being treated for cancer and has other daunting health issues? He is also a former martial arts practitioner, which prepared him for yoga when he started practicing with Denise at age 70. What has yoga done for him? He says: It opens me. Aging makes us tight, closed, drawing inward. Yoga expands the joints, the muscles, the heart and the mind. It gives us room to breathe and to be.

This is a relatively simple pose with the idea being to keep a straight line from your back foot to your extended hand. It's more difficult than it looks. Not to name names, but people in this photo have had, within a few months or few years,  brain surgery, lung cancer surgery, and knee replacement surgery. Others in the class have had heart surgery, and/or are being treated for cancer. One man, not pictured, is deaf. Another is a polio survivor, struggling with its cruel aftermath. At our relatively advanced ages, class participants have chosen to defy their bodies regarding whether it's time to throw in the towel. No towels have been discarded!  These yoga practitioners have taken charge of their own aging. 

I've had many yoga teachers, and I love them all, but Denise is the only one whose classes regularly include the splits. I'm grateful to her for keeping this difficult pose in her repertoire because so many of her students have mastered it, or are coming close. It  isn't that doing the splits is the be-all, end-all yoga pose. Not at all. Many poses are far more difficult, in my opinion. And no single pose is the barometer. But she stuck with splits through the YEARS and hence has a bunch of senior citizens who can either do the splits or are on the verge.

The "boat pose" challenges the abdominal and thigh muscles.

Lori doesn't have a tight muscle in her body.

Kay, 70,  can almost do the splits, plus, she has recovered from a frozen shoulder to be able to do this pose and make it look easy! (It isn't.) 

Teacher Denise loves seeing her students progress.  She says: The amazing thing is, most are stronger, more balanced and flexible than they were many years ago.

Denise has a lot to smile about. She started offering yoga classes in Rogue River about 15 years ago. I was there, and remember many classes with just a few students. Sometimes, just me! She hung in there and now has about 25 people who regularly show up, averaging about 15 per class. Perseverance and stamina are yoga objectives, and she has demonstrated both traits physically and mentally.

A You Tube video about a 94-year-old yoga teacher has been making the rounds, and Denise, 65, fully expects to be teaching in 30 years. She announced this to the class, and said, "I expect you all to be here with me." Jim, whose wife is in her early 70s, said, "I'll be here! Rita will bring me in my urn." 

We all collapsed in laughter. That's part of yoga, too. Not taking yourself too seriously and never missing an opportunity to connect with humor.

Yoga for awesome seniors? Absolutely! Fifty or better? Get thee to a yoga class!
Student Donn-Glenn Harris and yoga instructor Denise Elzea.

Yoga opens me. Aging makes us tight, closed, drawing inward. Yoga expands the joints, the muscles, the heart and the mind. It gives us room to breathe and to be. Donn-Glenn Harris, 85.

Another post about aging avoidance: Is 90 the new 70? Ask Pauline.

Feeling the Love at a Government School in Kathmandu, Nepal

This is one of my all-time favorite photos of PK, taken in a situation we could not have imagined. That's the great thing about foreign travel. It is not unusual to end up in a "situation you could not have imagined."In this case, it was our second day in Nepal, and members of our small group were the guests of honor at a school's graduation ceremony, and PK had just been warmly introduced. The ceremony had, in fact, been POSTPONED for four months in anticipation of our visit. Well, not "our" visit, but the visit of one person. That would be Catherine Wood. Going to Nepal with Catherine was kinda like going to Mexico with the Pope. At every place she's touched in Nepal, she and her entourage are treated like royalty. How did this happen? I'll keep the story short, although it spans nearly 14 years. I will say that our most poignant and meaning-packed experiences in Nepal occurred because we were riding on her coattails, errrr, cape. I plan at least one more post about Catherine's work in Nepal.  More "graduation" photos below.

Catherine Wood being greeted at the Bhotechaur Health Clinic, 2014.

Catherine Wood may seem like a typical fun-loving blond with better than average smarts, but she's not at all your standard pretty woman. She's one of a handful of extraordinary people I know personally whose determination, diligence, leadership and love have profoundly changed lives for the better.

In 2002 I accompanied her to Nepal, expanding my world view, and stretching, at that time, my resources. For Catherine, the trip was key for cultivating cross-cultural relationships and laying the groundwork for longterm change. It was her third visit on behalf of the Rogue Gateway Rotary Club in Grants Pass, of which I was a member, to form an alliance with the Rotary Club of Kathmandu to rebuild, as a medical clinic, a crumbling building in a village called Bhotechaur. Our 2002 trip included hiking seven rigorous miles to the village with an architect to take measurements and confer with village leaders.

Catherine tearing up at sunrise atop the clinic this year, in what may be her last trip to Nepal.

In addition to the clinic, Catherine in 2002 was also at the front end of a separate project that began a year earlier when she was captivated by a bright 10-year-old boy named Samip, whose future she could not bear to contemplate if he, like too many Nepali children, didn't get an education. She founded the Bright Futures Foundation, which continued to support the clinic once Rotary funding ended, and also provides, through sponsorships, a top-notch private education to impoverished kids from Kathmandu and nearby villages. To date, six young people have graduated and another 12 are still enrolled at  the Galaxy School of Kathmandu. (More about this in a separate post.)

The year 2002 was also the occasion of a casual visit by Catherine, and incidentally, by me, to a "government school" in the neighborhood where we were staying with a Nepali family. Government schools are supposedly free, although families must purchase uniforms and school supplies. For most children, however, education stops after grade six, and many families can't afford even primary education.

The school principal showed us, with great pride, small dim classrooms with uniformed kids packed together at long tables with few books or other school supplies. At that time, an open trench carried waste from the school's toilets through a tiny playground. That feature is now absent, I was happy to note. This is the school where we attended, with great fanfare, the 2014 graduation.

What the school needed most, Mr. Nepal told us in 2002, was a computer for record keeping. Catherine and I put our heads and dollars together and delivered to Mr. Nepal the school's first computer.

Over the next 12 years, Catherine returned to Nepal annually (at her own expense) to shepherd along the clinic, oversee the sponsored kids in private school, and improve the public school presided over by Mr. Nepal. Through her foundation, the school was provided a computer lab, books and equipment for a science lab, a sound system for the auditorium, and scholarships for 50 girls for one year.

To say that Mr. Nepal and his school community are grateful to Catherine and the Bright Futures Foundation is an understatement. I'll let pictures tell the story.

That's me, overcome with emotion talking with Catherine, who knew what to expect but was still teary-eyed. The moment our small group entered the room, a thunderous roar issued from the students, staff, and parents. It went on and on. I got the seat-of-honor next to Catherine because I was with her the first time she visited the school. Other than that, I was completely unworthy. (Photo credit, PK.)

Bright Futures board member and Michigan resident Polly Hudson reacts to being introduced. Polly is a longtime Bright Futures Foundation board member who has taken a crucial leadership role as Catherine, for family-related reasons, steps away from the helm.

Jeff Bossler, board member and former student sponsor, from the state of Washington, reacts to being introduced. Following our introductions, the graduation ceremony began, and PK and I were stunned to be called up to the stage! Everyone in our group was, in turn, to perform graduation tasks No photos of PK or me, but I was able to capture the emotions when others in our group were called upon so unexpectedly.

 Oregon resident, Kathy Krause, who sponsors a student at the Galaxy School, participates, as we all did, in the graduation ceremony. Her job—bedeck grads with scarves.

After a dozen or so diplomas were handed out, we were treated to
impressive student performances before the ceremony resumed.

Board member and student sponsor, Charla Rolph, left, prepares to apply a bindi, a red dot, to a student's forehead. The bindi is traditional mark in some Asian cultures applied to the middle of the forehead of both women and men . It has multiple meanings, all of them positive.

Another student performance. These two wowed the audience with a Nepalese version of hip-hop

Bonnie Bossler, Orcas Island, Washington,  helps with the scarf detail.

Catherine Wood applies a bindi.

In the audience, beautiful young girls.....

And a beautiful elder,  enjoy the moment.

And like parents and friends everywhere, the phones came out for graduation photos and videos.

Previous posts about Nepal:
Fear, and the Truth About Ziplines

Fear, and the Truth About Ziplines

PK and me getting ready to ride the zipline. Whoo hooo! Obligatory photo with Himalayan mountain background.  Photo credit: Jeff Bossler.

PK approaching the landing.

Me trying to take in the gorgeous scenery as the zipline ride is about to end.

They're inviting students? What about the old people?

I didn't travel all the way to Nepal to go on my first zipline adventure, but that's what happened. I had no interest in ziplines, and was, in fact, leery. Scared is what you'd call it. But what happened is I got sick. (More about this in a future post.) I had been down for a couple days and weakened. I'd missed a wonderful seven-mile hike in the terraced Himalayan foothills, about which I was ticked and disappointed, and still am. I didn't want to miss another thing. 

PK and me, Jeff and Bonnie Bossler, and Charla Rolph ready to take the plunge. Does it look like Charla has an attitude? She does! I love my new-found friends.

So, while our little band of travelers was in Pokhara, a pleasant city at the base of the Annapurna range of the Himalayas, and plans to ride the "world's longest, steepest, fastest" zipline were underway, I decided to go. This decision was easy, as I determined that riding a zipline requires little more than holding on and trusting the engineering.  Plus getting your hairdo ruined at speeds up to 75 mph.

But before you judge me brave, foolish, or otherwise, consider one of my companions, Bonnie Bossler, whose fear of heights is debilitating. Her husband reports, and she agrees, that she has trouble taking more than two steps up a ladder. She had NO intention of ziplining, but she came to say goodbye at the office where we paid, got weighed, and readied ourselves for the trip to where the zipline plunges across a deep valley.

While waiting, we watched a short video, during which I mentioned that it looked like all you had to do was hold tight for two minutes, the duration of the ride. Anybody could do it, even a sick person, I said with a touch of bravado. Then came the announcement that there was room for one more rider. To her husband's amazement and joy, Bonnie signed up. A few minutes later, we were en route to the zipline.

In truth, the hour-long ride up the mountain on a one-lane road with heavy two-way traffic including buses, chicken trucks, a funeral procession, stalled vehicles, impromptu traffic directors, blaring horns, meandering sacred cows, and skittish school children was more entertaining, not to mention harrowing, than the zipline itself.

Our driver pays heed to the road's edge and our hair's breadth proximity with a dump truck.

Bumper to bumper going up, and same thing coming down. How passing lanes of traffic headed in opposite directions manage without mishap is worthy of a study in human cooperation. And luck.

Once at the zipline take-off, we were greeted with views that make Nepal world famous. The Himalayas are an ever-present source of awe.

In the valley below, country/mountain life goes on as it has for centuries with herding and tasks of everyday living. I wonder what they think of crazy tourists flying overhead paying $65 each for a couple minutes of fun, intruding on their peace and privacy. I wonder if they have been compensated for the blow to their quality of life. A bungee jumping base is also located here. 

It was all worth it for Bonnie, who had confronted one of her deepest fears, and traded heartfelt "namastes" with zipline staff.

Yes! She did it! Jeff and Bonnie Bossler.

To return to this post's title, we all fear something—heights, strangers, water, the unknown. Especially the unknown. I was more afraid of missing something than of the zipline itself, so I am not to be congratulated. But a shout out to Bonnie the Brave for stepping way outside her comfort zone to ride the "world's longest, fastest, steepest" zipline. (Not the first or last zipline to claim this, by the way.) 

The truth about ziplines? I don't know about the rest of them, but this one was not scary and safety precautions seemed more than adequate. It's true that if you fit the weight requirement to be between 85 and 235 pounds, you could do it. Maybe you should. Especially if you're afraid. 

Note: This is the first in a series of posts about 18 wonder-filled days in Nepal with Catherine Wood and sponsors of the Bright Futures Foundation.  Many of those days were spent with Nepali people in their homes, schools, and a very special clinic.  Lots of stories to come.

Applesauce or Apple Butter? Butter is Better.

Golden delicious apples make outstanding sauce. This year we mixed Jonathon and red delicious types with golden.  No sugar. No salt or cinnamon. Just apples. Easy. Delicious. 

Then there's apple butter, beyond delicious, alongside late season (October  27!) super sweet cantaloupe. I know, I know. Toast! All slathered up with peanut and apple butters. Sometimes we low-carbers just gotta go for it. The bread is sorta virtuous though, Dave's Killer Bread, thin-sliced, only 9 carbs and 60 calories.  Apple butter is too carb dense to count. It's a special treat. And a pint tied with a bow makes a great hostess gift. Perfect apple butter is richly fragrant and deep brown.

I am relieved and refreshed to be back to sweet and simple stuff after an excruciating six weeks of nitpicking a post about my mom's passing and the magical people who helped ease her into the beyond. It felt good to get it out, but I am so done with the topic. At least for now.

Maybe something later about who the hell wants to live to 100? And how accumulating stuff throughout a lifetime makes no sense. And all the  people I know who are dealing with a parent's decline and are asking questions like, Why doesn't mom act like an adult? and  Can dad keep driving? But for now, I'm headed to the orchard! Happy talk!

We have apples in ridiculous abundance. We bought this triangular 3.5 acre property about 40 years ago when it was  a young orchard of 375 red and golden delicious trees with a burned out ratty old mobile home squatting near the road. The mobile home was marginally livable, and the property was only $17,000 when we moved in. After seven years, when the mortgage was paid, we built a stick house. We've never left, except for when we rented it out and relocated to Grants Pass for four years so the youngest kid could benefit from a "big town" high school. Good decision, it turns out. But living in the same place for more than 40 years? Who does that any more!? Around here, it's not that unusual.

The orchard in the 1970s. The trees were young. We were young. You can see they're bowed with apples. They're old now and not as productive. And they're not bowed either. But us? Well.....

Click here for One of several posts dipping into our history on the land.

We've made tons of applesauce through the years. It requires most of an afternoon. But apple butter, due to its lengthy cooking-down time, is a relative newcomer to our preserving repertoire. It requires a few days.

How to make applesauce and apple butter guides are below. It's all about the process.

Move the operation outside. It's messy. When it's over, clean-up can be done with a garden hose. You can see what we use. One of the buckets is full of water as the apples must be rinsed. The other must-haves are a camp stove and a large pot to boil the apples. 

It really helps to have a Victorio Stainer, that unit on the left with the white funnel. It saves hours of work by separating the apple flesh from the cores and peels. We used a mix of apples this year, but goldens alone make a great sauce. Our apples are unsprayed so require serious sorting.

Use the largest pot you have to boil the quartered apples until soft enough to process. This stainless steel pot is from a set of nesting pots that we take on river trips. The pot on top of the white bucket is catching the sauce from the strainer. That pot holds seven quarts and goes directly from the outside stove to the inside stove to begin the canning process.

The fruit must be soft enough to press through the strainer's funnel to separate skins and cores from apple flesh. I'm too old to ever make sauce again without this tool. 

We keep a steady flow going from stove to strainer.

As you can see, the sauce goes one way and the cores and peels go another. Love it!

In all we processed around 60 pounds (guessing) and canned 14 quarts in a boiling water bath. We had lots of sauce left so decided to make apple butter. You'll need a crockpot or two.

Apple Butter Recipe
5 to 6 quarts of homemade applesauce. (Don't waste your time using commercial applesauce.) Increase spices accordingly if your crockpot holds 6 quarts. We roughly tripled this recipe.
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon all spice
2 cups sugar. May also use equivalent amount of Splenda or  one 12 oz. can of frozen concentrated apple juice.

This crockpot holds five quarts of applesauce. We had enough sauce to use two crockpots this size and one that holds three quarts. Use wooden or metal thingies to keep the lid from being a tight fit. The moisture needs to escape. 

We turned our pots off at night out of paranoia, but kept them on LOW for three full days until the desired consistency was achieved. PK used the grinder to pulverize whole cloves. 

A few days later, we're getting close to canning pints in a boiling water bath.

Pints filled carefully with hot apple butter leaving room to expand.

PARTING SHOT: Here's a young  PK, still in his twenties, pruning trees after eight hours at his paying job. He always wanted to be a farmer, and  here he was. We started with 375 trees and now have around 30. Still too many apples.

PARTING SHOT 2. The miniature horses across the road head to the fence when I come outside because they want apples. I happily oblige them. Here they are, begging, knickering, jockeying for position. They continue this behavior for several months after the apples are gone. Don't worry. They're happy little horses, well looked after by their owner, with whom we trade apples for eggs.