what are we missing?

14 01 2009

“what are we missing?”
Mamiya C3 + Fuji Velvia 100F
© 2008 Don Abrigo

A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousand of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule. A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.

A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work. The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition. No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars. Two days before his playing in the subway, tickets for Joshua Bell’s performance at a theater in Boston were sold out and the seats averaged $100.

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of an social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context? One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing ???

~~~~

The above post was received in an email from one of my colleague and I though it was worth sharing. It pays to take life slowly sometimes and appreciate what God gave us.





Life is a Gift

15 12 2008

Here’s another story forwarded in my email.  Read on…

~~~~~

fall

There was a blind girl who hated herself because she was blind.
She hated everyone, except her loving boyfriend.
He was always there for her.
She told her boyfriend, ‘If I could only see the world, I will marry you.’

One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her.
When the bandages came off, she was able to see everything, including her boyfriend.

He asked her, ‘Now that you can see the world, will you marry me?’
The girl looked at her boyfriend and saw that he was blind.
The sight of his closed eyelids shocked her.  She hadn’t expected that.
The thought of looking at them the rest of her life led her to refuse to marry him.

Her boyfriend left in tears and days later wrote a note to her saying:
‘Take good care of your eyes, my dear, for before they were yours, they were mine.’

This is how the human brain often works when our status changes.
Only a very few remember what life was like before,
and who was always by their side in the most painful situations.

~~~~~

Life Is a
Gift

Today before you say an unkind word,
Think of someone who can’t speak.

Before you complain about the taste of your food,
Think of someone who has nothing to eat.

Before you complain about your husband or wife,
Think of someone who’s crying out to GOD for a companion.

Today before you complain about life,
Think of someone who died too early on this earth.

Before you complain about your children,
Think of someone who desires children but they’re barren.

Before you argue about your dirty house someone didn’t clean or sweep,
Think of the people who are living in the streets.

Before whining about the distance you drive,
Think of someone who walks the same distance with their feet.

And when you are tired and complain about your job,
Think of the unemployed, the disabled, and those who wish they had your job.

But before you think of pointing the finger or condemning another,
Remember that not one of us is without sin.

And when depressing thoughts seem to get you down,
Put a smile on your face and think: you’re alive and still around.

~~~~~

I PRAY THIS MOVES AROUND THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE…





Daddy’s Poem

3 04 2008
Her hair was up in a pony  tail,  her favorite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy’s Day at school,  and she couldn’t wait to go.
But her mommy tried to tell  her,  that she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,  if she went to school alone.
But she was not afraid;  she knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates of why he wasn’t there today.
But still her mother worried,  for her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,  she tried to keep her daughter home.
But the little girl went to school,  eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees, a dad who never calls.
There were daddies along the wall in back, for everyone to meet.
Children were squirming impatiently, anxious in their seats.
One by one the teacher called, a student from the class, to introduce their daddy.
As seconds slowly passed, at last the teacher called her name,
every child turned to stare. Each of them was searching,
for a man who wasn’t there.  “Where’s her daddy at?”
she heard a boy call out. “She probably doesn’t have one,”
another student dared to shout.   And from somewhere near the back,
she heard a daddy say, “Looks like another deadbeat dad,
too busy to waste his day. “The words did not offend her,
as she smiled up at her Mom. And looked back at her teacher,
who told her to go on. And with hands behind her back, slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child, came words incredibly unique.
“My Daddy couldn’t be here, because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be, since this is such a special day.
And though you cannot meet him,  I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy, and how much he loves me so. He loved to tell me stories
he taught me to ride my bike. He surprised me with pink roses, and taught me to fly a kite.
We used to share fudge sundaes, and ice cream in a cone. And though you cannot see him,
I’m not standing here alone. “Cause my daddy’s always with me, even though we are apart.
I know because he told me, he’ll forever be in my heart. ” With that, her little hand reached up,
and lay across her chest. Feeling her own heartbeat, beneath her favorite dress.
And from somewhere in the crowd of dads, her mother stood in tears.  Proudly watching

her daughter, who was wise beyond her years. For she stood up for the love
of a man not in her life. Doing what was best for her, doing what was right.
And when she dropped her hand back down, staring straight into the crowd,

she finished with a voice so soft, but its message clear and loud.  “I love my daddy very much,
he’s my shining star. And if he could, he’d be here,  but heaven’s just too far!
You see he was a fireman and died just this past year
when airplanes hit the towers and taught Americans to fear.
“But sometimes when I close my eyes, it’s like he never went away.”
And then she closed her eyes,  and saw him there that day. And to her mother’s amazement,
she witnessed with surprise, a room full of daddies and children,
all starting to close their eyes. Who knows what they saw before them, who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second, they saw him at her side. “I know you’re with me Daddy,”
to the silence she called out.  And what happened next made believers, of those once filled with doubt.
Not one in that room could explain it, for each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her, was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.
And a child was blessed, if only for a moment, by the love of her shining bright star.
And given the gift of believing, that heaven is never too far.

this was sent to me by my older sister 




lomopalooza

29 11 2007

lomopalooza

lomopalooza, the culminating activity of the month-long lomolovetoo activities of lomomanila, is set to explode, louder than the opening (i hope), on saturday, the first of december at the lomofamous place in cubao, cubao x.

gfx credits | jonas asistio





A World Without Filipinos

4 10 2007

Got this from an e-mail… a post script to the Desperate Housewives controversial episode… I just thought it’s worth sharing…

~~~~

Let’s imagine then, not just California, but the entire world, waking up one day to discover Filipinos have disappeared. I’m talking here about the six or seven million Filipinos currently working overseas in countries with names that run the entire alphabet, from Angola to Zimbabwe .

Let’s not worry first about why or how the Filipinos disappeared; in fact, it becomes academic whether it’s a day or a week. Just imagine a world without Filipinos.

Think of the homes that are dependent on Filipino housekeepers, nannies, caregivers. The homes would be chaotic as kids cry out for their nannies. Hong Kong and Singaporean and Taiwanese yuppie couples are now forced to sta y home and realizing, goodness, there’s so much of housework that has to be handled and how demanding their kids can be and hey, what’s this strange language they’re babbling in?

It’s not just the children that are affected. The problems are even more serious with the elderly in homes and nursing institutions, because Filipino caregivers have provided so much of the critical services they need. When temporary contractual workers are brought in from among non-Filipinos, the elderly complain. They want their Filipino caregivers back because they have that special touch, that extra patience and willingness to stay an hour more when needed.

Hospitals, too, are adversely affected because so many of the disappeared Filipinos were physicians, nurses and other health professionals. All appointments for rehabilitation services, from children with speech problems to stroke survivors, are indefinitely postponed because of disappeared speech pathologists, occupational and physical therapists!

Eventually, the hospital administrators announce they won’t take in any more patients unless the conditions are serious. Patients are told to follow their doctors’ written orders and, if they have questions, to seek advice on several Internet medical sites. But within two days, the hospitals are swamped with new complaints. The web sites aren’t working because of missing Filipino web designers and web site managers.

Service establishments throughout the world — restaurants, supermarkets, hotels — all close down because of their missing key staff involved in management and maintenance. In Asia , hotels complain about the missing bands and singers.

In the United States , many commercial establishments have to close shop, not just because of the missing Filipino sales staff but because their suppliers have all been sending in notices about delays in shipments. Yup, the shipping industry has gone into a crisis because of missing Filipino seafarers.

The shipping firms begin to look into the emergency recruitment of non-Filipino seafarers but then declare another crisis: They’re running out of supplies of oil for their ships because the Middle Eastern countries have come to a standstill without their Filipino workers, including quite a few working for the oil industry.

Frantic presidents and prime ministers call on the United Nations to convene a special session of the Security Council but Kofi Annan says he can’t do that because the UN system itself is on the edge, with so many of their secretarial and clerical staff, as well as translators, having disappeared from their main headquarters in New York and Geneva, as well as their regional offices throughout the world. Quite a number of UN services, especially refugee camps, are also in danger of closing down because of missing Filipino health professionals and teachers.

Annan also explains that he can’t convene UN meetings because the airports in New York , Washington and other major US cities have been shut down. The reason? The disappeared Filipinos included quite a few airport security personnel who used to check passengers and their baggage.

Annan calls on the World Bank and international private foundations for assistance but they’re crippled, too, because their Filipino consultants and staff are nowhere to be seen. Funds can’t be rem itted and projects can’t run without the technical assistance provided for by Filipinos.

An exasperated Annan calls on religious leaders to pray, and pray hard. But when he phones the Pope, he is told the Catholic Church, too, is in crisis because the disappeared include the many Filipino priests and nuns in Rome who help run day-to-day activities, as well as missionaries in the front lines of remote posts, often the only ones providing basic social services.

As they converse, Annan and the Pope agree on one thing: the world has become a quieter place since the Filipinos disappeared. It isn’t just the silencing of work and office equipment formerly handled by Filipinos; no, it seems there’s much less laughter now that the Filipinos aren’t around, both the laughter of the Filipinos and those they served.

I know, I know, I’m exaggerating the contributions of Filipinos to the world but I’m doing what the producers of “A Day without Mexicans” had in mind: using a bit of hyperbole to shake people up.
As their blurb for the film goes: “How do you make the invisible, visible? Make them invisible.”

As I wrote this column, I did realize I was doing this not so much for the Hong Kong Chinese and Taiwanese and Singaporeans and Americans who don’t appreciate us enough, than for us, who as Filipinos, are pretty good at putting ourselves down, at making ourselves invisible.

Fr. Jess E. Briones, SVD
Superior
Delegatus Argentina
Oficina: Calle Mansilla 3865
Residencia: Calle Paraguay 3901 – Tel.: 4824-0270 ext 43
celular: (011) 15-5024-0751