Inspirational
It’s truly remarkable how a spark of ingenuity can create shockwaves to change destinies that would have otherwise been cemented in ruin.
Such is the story of a prison located in Cebu, Philippines; where the majority of the inmates are awaiting trial or have been convicted of violent crime. Every moment in the prison was etched in tension and turmoil with corruption by the guards fuelling episodes of violence after violence.
Enter Byron Garcia.
Heading the once notorious prison housing the nation’s most violent group of prisoners, he chanced upon footage of a typical afternoon march. He innocently thought it would be fun to inject an element of dance into it and then introduced this idea to the inmates.
That eureka moment transformed lives.
The dance exercises occupied the idle minds of the inmates and soon eroded animosity between the rival gang members within the grey washed walls of the prison.
How can you be my enemy when you are my friend?
Thus the seed was sowed.
In the process, violence within the walls plunged to zero and joy started sprouting from within the inmates. Every month, the inmates will perform a routine for visitors at the monthly show. Each mass collaboration is videoed and posted online on youtube for the world to enjoy.
Nobody hides their face (nor the pride they feel) because they are genuinely proud of the work they’ve done. Each step, paves the way to a lighter soul, even if it does little to change their grim reality.
Watching their dance routines online, you sincerely feel the joy that radiates from a soul finally freed from the troubles of the secular world. And it’s difficult to not be moved by something so innocent as carefree dance.
Inspirational.
It doesn’t take a hell lot of money to make change. It doesn’t matter if it costs a dollar or 10 cents. All that matters is that change does occur. You just need to let it happen.
I'm going to break into song and embrace dance too! So don't be alarmed if I walk with a jiggle and a step lighter the next time you happen to spot me! I'm allowing myself to experience joy.
Support the Cebu Prison project and spread the word.
Hope truly exists.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
cherlosophy's playlist
1. Ban Qing Ge - Yuan Ruo Lan
2. Ru Yan - Olivia Ong
3. Very Heartbreaking Words - Alex Ft Jisun
4. Can You Hear Me Now - Lee Seung Chul
5. What Do I Do - Jisun
6. Remember - Kim Sung Tae
7. Be Nice To Me Please - Kim Hyung Joong
8. Love You - Howl
9. Fight The Bad Feeling - T-Max
10. Sha Gua - Landy
11. Sometime - SS501
12. Do You Know - Someday
1. Ban Qing Ge - Yuan Ruo Lan
2. Ru Yan - Olivia Ong
3. Very Heartbreaking Words - Alex Ft Jisun
4. Can You Hear Me Now - Lee Seung Chul
5. What Do I Do - Jisun
6. Remember - Kim Sung Tae
7. Be Nice To Me Please - Kim Hyung Joong
8. Love You - Howl
9. Fight The Bad Feeling - T-Max
10. Sha Gua - Landy
11. Sometime - SS501
12. Do You Know - Someday
Friday, August 14, 2009
Deo Juvente
The haziness between life and death never fails to baffle me. Teetering among the living and the dead at work most days of the year reminds me incessantly about the importance of life that I would have otherwise taken for granted had God not siphoned me into nursing.
Of course there are days (and sometimes even weeks on end), where I feel jaded and sick of the job with the shit I have to shoulder from irritating patients and colleagues with hormonal imbalances and/or psychological dysfunction.
Then God intervenes.
My blunted senses become astute as the neurons kick into action with rapid fire. And without fail, a lesson unfolds.
The ward received a case a new case recently. Enter Rm37, labeled as uncommunicative and DIL (dangerously ill list) on MWM (maximum ward management), he came to us with the smell of death encircling. The palliative team in charge of his care ordered no observations necessary. Yes, not even OM parameters.
“just maintain the IV fent”
It was clear that our role was solely to provide comfort in his final stretch.
He was breathing with the aid of a tracheostomy, had end stage renal failure with dialysis stopped and an active bleeding gastrointestinal tract. Modern medicine had pinballed him from the ICU to a general ward, from hospital to hospital, postponing this man’s imminent death for approximately half a year since his collapse.
I found to my surprise that despite his condition, he was quite lucid. And with that revelation, came a wave of irrepressible empathy as I cupped his cold fingers in my warm hands.
A reflection of the vigor of my own life.
I asked him about his tattoo on his arm, the adventures in his youth and whether he wanted us to reinsert the nasogastric tube that he had pulled out earlier. Through the whole conversation (well, I talked while he mouthed his words slowly and at times repeatedly), he remained engaged and displayed no sense of frustration at my feeble attempts to match lip movements with words.
In fact, his pale face even broke into broad smiles occassionally and slipped into slumber as I patted him.
Whatever hatred I felt for my problems in my world faded into the distance as I acknowledged the opportunity God has granted to comfort another.
The haziness between life and death never fails to baffle me. Teetering among the living and the dead at work most days of the year reminds me incessantly about the importance of life that I would have otherwise taken for granted had God not siphoned me into nursing.
Of course there are days (and sometimes even weeks on end), where I feel jaded and sick of the job with the shit I have to shoulder from irritating patients and colleagues with hormonal imbalances and/or psychological dysfunction.
Then God intervenes.
My blunted senses become astute as the neurons kick into action with rapid fire. And without fail, a lesson unfolds.
The ward received a case a new case recently. Enter Rm37, labeled as uncommunicative and DIL (dangerously ill list) on MWM (maximum ward management), he came to us with the smell of death encircling. The palliative team in charge of his care ordered no observations necessary. Yes, not even OM parameters.
“just maintain the IV fent”
It was clear that our role was solely to provide comfort in his final stretch.
He was breathing with the aid of a tracheostomy, had end stage renal failure with dialysis stopped and an active bleeding gastrointestinal tract. Modern medicine had pinballed him from the ICU to a general ward, from hospital to hospital, postponing this man’s imminent death for approximately half a year since his collapse.
I found to my surprise that despite his condition, he was quite lucid. And with that revelation, came a wave of irrepressible empathy as I cupped his cold fingers in my warm hands.
A reflection of the vigor of my own life.
I asked him about his tattoo on his arm, the adventures in his youth and whether he wanted us to reinsert the nasogastric tube that he had pulled out earlier. Through the whole conversation (well, I talked while he mouthed his words slowly and at times repeatedly), he remained engaged and displayed no sense of frustration at my feeble attempts to match lip movements with words.
In fact, his pale face even broke into broad smiles occassionally and slipped into slumber as I patted him.
Whatever hatred I felt for my problems in my world faded into the distance as I acknowledged the opportunity God has granted to comfort another.
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