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Here's a video of my first therapy dog, Bella. She was recused from Dead Dog Beach in Puerto Rico and we adopted her when she was four months old. She was super active and my vet suggested that she needed a job. We tried agility but it wasn't the right fit. But when she became a therapy dog at age five, we were all set. Bella was intuitive and curious and knew just what to do whether working with students or visiting patients in the hospital. This volunteer work provided the perfect balance to writing, and I'm still at it, now with my second therapy dog, Rudy. My book about Bella is titled "Joy Unleashed: The Story of Bella, the Unlikely Therapy Dog." It's done really well and is in its third printing. Enjoy!
The moment I was brought into this world, I was instantly branded developmentally-stunted, narcissistic and lazy. Apart from being a lethargic preemie (who forced doctors to take him out weeks early), my other crime was being born in the 80's. While newer evidence from psychology (mercifully) defends my generation as suffering from the dual struggles of discovering identity while enduring growing pains of the most rapidly-changing socioeconomic environment in human history, impulsive prejudice built up against Millennials towers over us like Mount Olympus (which, ironically, few detractors would ever climb such pre-conceptual heights to find out whether we fit their expectations). To our elders, strangers (elder strangers or was it strange elders?), we would instinctually be graced as “Generation Me”. Deep in my bones, I knew I wasn't this kind of person. Much of the joy in my youth, for instance, came from volunteering at the hospital or performing songs to soothe weary audiences of their troubles. Partying was a worthless social obligation (starting with boredom and ending with anxiety for the time I wasted). Whether my young mind knew it or not, I was determined to be something other than the selfish, entitled brats Gen Me were destined (by society) to be. It's probably why, at 24, I faced a quarter-life crisis. Days before my 25th birthday, I was unstoppable. Fresh off of earning my black belt in Shorin Ryu karate (a feat some believed beyond me), I raced to the wall in my room, placing the half-English, half-Japanese certificate above my ARCT in piano performance and my medical science degree. I gazed up at my trinity gleefully, only for my pride to vaporize instantly. I had accomplished nothing. Emptiness welled up inside me as I questioned the truth behind those certified proclamations. For all the blood, sweat, tears, time and effort I had poured into those milestones, my patient friend, Walter, from my hospital days (who always blessed me as a ‘good man' whenever we parted) was still dead. My musical performances were little more than transient pleasures. But shaking me most was that a tech at school (I had just finished my 3rd year of pharmacy) died suddenly from cancer. Surrounded by medical practitioners - and all we could offer were our sincerest condolences. Her death was the last straw: fueling me to choose cancer to cure since there's not a single person whose life hasn't been touched by the disease. Unfortunately, continuing to champion destructive treatments (yes, even Nobel Prize-winning immune therapies) in this civil war against our distorted cells (or selves, as it were) will still claim 1/4 of all Canadian cancer patients. With the impending arrival of the largest cancer patient population in history (due to aging baby boomers), 1.2 million baby boomers will die while the luckier 3.5 million boomer survivors will be forever cursed by a myriad of progressive chronic diseases. Three guesses whose generation bears this other impossible burden. Einstein once wrote: “A new type of thinking is essential if mankind is to survive and move towards higher levels”. To me, the answer was easy: non-destructive cures. If cancer isn't threatened, it won't desperately evolve against treatment. Sadly, humans have been killing cancer for centuries. Researching otherwise would be like growing a third head (a second being normal by contrast). Witnessing my (supposedly superior) assessor degrade patients with outdated data for her ego proved that my field also wasn't a solution. This left me one avenue to convey my theories somewhat seriously. Sci-Fi. The sting of incredible backlash still ails me to this day. My parents called me crazy. My colleagues shied away from my radical logic. Even my girlfriend dumped me, thinking I'd choose writing over pharmacy. All they saw was another selfish dreamer enticed by fame and fortune. All I could dream about were a hundred thousand terminal Canadian cancer patients pleading for euthanasia each year. What else could I have done? I shut out my heartache: setting out alone to show people that non-destructive cancer cures can solve this imminent medical genocide. At times I wonder whether publishing Destructive Salvation was worth it. I struggled through rejection, isolation and dark times when I believed my passing might be better on my parents. But in my waking nightmares, I uncovered strength within me: pushing me through crippling anxiety and fatigue I once thought unconquerable. Regardless of my gains or losses, my fire burns brighter than ever to make non-destructive cancer cures a reality. Whether my novel makes a difference is not just up to me anymore, (though I have faith good people will agree with me and want to help). In the meantime, my promise to all cancer patients past, present and future still stands: I'll never stop fighting to cure this disease properly. Not a bad calling for defying one's (preordained) destiny.
I went out with my family relief worker... the new one. She want me to be a volunteer to get out to see people and get work experience. So today we had lunch where I learned that my iq 196 was close to 200 - limitless genius. Then we went to get my criminal clearance at the police station which turned out I am clean. And I got to take some pictures of Internet safety posters which I will post later. We then we to library to take a course able disabled people and how to dream them and a few free non returning books. Which I get to keep. This was one of the better afternoons I had.
A year ago, the Philippines faced a devastating terrorist attack in the Islamic City of Marawi, Lanao del Sur. This attack came to be known as the “Marawi Siege”. It went on for months ending in November 2017 when President Duterte announced the city's liberation. Days after the siege begun on May 2017, in a volunteers' group chat of our NGO, we were asked if we're available to join a peace mission in an evacuation center located in Lanao del Sur. The slots were filled immediately and although I fiercely wanted to join the said mission I didn't have the opportunity. Nevertheless, I did what I could to support the team. Yet, even now, as Marawi begins to build its city, there is still a piece of me that wishes to have been part of that peace mission, to have been able to bring joy and support to the children of Marawi while the siege is ongoing. Weeks turned into months and Marawi City was liberated from the terrorist group but it left part of the city, near Lanao lake, completely obliterated. Back in Manila on March 2018, I was asked by my friends if I'm available to join a month-long peace mission in Mindanao; I had mixed feeling about it. I felt like this maybe a blessing since I've already wanted to resign from my job, but, this may also be a test, to see if I am brave enough to resign from my job without another work lined up when I get back from Mindanao. Add in the fact that volunteering is my passion and the feeling that I'm wasting away in the office helped me reached my decision. Turns out, I did have the guts to resign without another job lined up and the trip really was a blessing. The peace mission was a blessing due to a number of reasons. First, I was able to live in Mindanao for a month and immersed in their culture and lifestyle. Second, I was able to see the battle ground or what we like to call “Ground Zero” in Marawi City from afar. “Ground Zero” is still prohibited to civilians because the armed forces is presently in the process of clearing out the areas of undetonated bombs and IEDs. Lastly, I was able to act as a support to the children of Marawi, at least for those in the group I facilitated in. The peace mission we conducted in Mindanao was in the conflict areas of Maguindanao and Marawi City. We taught the children and their parents peace education. In Marawi, I was given the chance to act as lead facilitator for one of the 10 groups. Together with me is a member of the “Hijab Troopers”, they are women soldiers who wears white hijab. Our group was composed of 3 boys and 4 girls, all coming from 4 different schools. Despite being strangers, our group was able to form a bond like that of a family. I was their big sister who helped them with their activities such as writing and drawing. But, there was 1 kid who was extremely shy. He would not answer my questions (that were spoken in Filipino) and at first I thought that he could only understand Maranao so I asked the other kids to translate for him, but he still wouldn't participate in our activities. In that case, I told him that it was alright if he doesn't share his thoughts but if he wants to share then his new friends can translate for him. During the 2nd day, as I was observing all my kids, I felt elated on the fact that everyone is bonding, they maybe strangers yesterday but now, they've accepted each other as friends. I also found out that the shy kid can understand and speak Filipino well but he adamantly refuses to share his answers in the group. Accordingly, after an activity where everyone had to share their drawings, I went to him and asked him to share his drawings to me, he started telling me the reason behind his drawings and I felt like I was going to cry at that moment because finally, I was able to get through his walls even if it was just a little. Indeed, those 3-days were the best but they were also the most exhausting. Handling 7 kids is draining emotionally and physically. It made me really appreciate the kindergarten and elementary school teachers all over the world for their limitless patience and energy in handling hundreds of kids in their career life. On our last day in Marawi City, we visited an area near Lanao Lake where “Ground Zero” can be observed. The only word that came to mind when I saw it was destroyed. The battle ground area was completely and utterly destroyed. The whole area was colored gray by ashes. Mosques that were once magnificent now had huge gaping holes in them and houses that were home to thousands of Maranaos were reduced to piles of rocks. As I watch the scene before me, I felt anger and the thirst to find out the answer to my questions, “why? Why do this? What did it accomplish?” And as our group continues to hear the stories of the Marawi Siege, one person shouted “look, there's a rainbow” and as we all turn to gaze at the breathtaking beauty of the rainbow, I said to myself “how ironic.”
“In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth.” Genesis 1:1. “Allah creates the creation in the beginning, and then brings it forth anew: and, in the end, to Him you all will re- turn” Quran 30:11. A question was posed to me “What is square one and can you ever return to it?” The first thing that came to mind was the dichotomy I am currently living. A dichotomy of east and west, Christian vs Muslim I must start at the very beginning. My life began in a dichotomy, conceived as the child of Uyghur parents. The Uyghur are a tribe and racial group split by the borders of China and Kyrgyzstan. We are a persecuted racial minority in China and a racial minority in Kyrgyzstan. The Uyghur are neither Chinese nor Caucasian but a unique racial and tribal group, comparable to the Native American Indians. Sadly fewer and fewer speak my native language, even I speak mainly Russian and was educated in Russian as Kyrgyzstan was part of the former Soviet Union. My people are torn between countries and languages. My story begins in 1999 in the capital of Kyrgyzstan Bishkek where I spent just 3-4 years and then went to a small town Karakol with my mom and my younger sister. My dad doesn't live with us. Now I want talk about a very important event that had happened to me. On March 28th 2016 a lot of things have changed. I won a scholarship for a Future Leaders Exchange program. It is a scholarship based exchange program that helps high school students from Middle Eastern countries study in an American High School and exchange their cultural experiences with the American people. Nobody can imagine how happy I was to be a finalist of this exchange program. I have been dreaming of seeing America since I was in the 6th grade. There are four thousand applicants in my city alone and only ninety students from all of Kyrgyzstan get selected. I had applied three times and this was my last chance. They do not tell you why you do not get accepted. I was president of my class and academically first in my class but didn't make it the first two times. My uncle filled out my paperwork the third time because the first two times when I wasn't selected my father told me it was because no one wanted me and they never would and I should stop applying. I studied incredibly hard and tried again because I couldn't give up on my dream. This time, my very last chance, I made it. What has impressed me the most, is how much charity work the church does. I volunteer in the food pantry, serving dinners and with the nurseries. I was really impressed by how there are so many people that want to be useful to their community. At home I volunteer with Kyrgyzstani Orphans. I have written grants to create curriculum to tutor them in English. Having lived in the US my desire to be useful to my community has grown. It is really important to understand that every help is appreciated. I remember one story that my teacher told me. He told us that one time there was a fire in the city and people were trying to get water in order to put out a fire, so one man saw that a small ant was carrying some water and he asked him if he thought that this much water can put out the fire and then ant replied:” The amount is not very important, your intentions are more important” In conclusion I want to say that we people should be kind to each other. We should always be willing to help each other. “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness”- Galatians 5:22 Another message of my essay is that all people are equal. It does not matter if you are Christian or Muslim, black or white, Asian or Hispanic. I uploaded the picture where there are girls from different countries and continents who have different religions and ethnicity but that is not a problem for them, because there is kindness in their heart.
Scrolled down one more popular biography and the comments section was full of words that appreciated author and congratulate on how author beautifully pictured a mesmerizing life experience. I was not moved honestly from the story, for me it was like another story that took the majority of readers into a fantasy world and readers imagining themselves in author's shoe and enjoying. I'll never ever say that it was not up to my standards or have heard of before but in my sight, this world needs to focus on some important topics. My childhood, your childhood or any guy's childhood who was born in the 90s knows our generation was completely different, we never heard of a word climate change or terrorism. I got a chance to share my point of view at some forum and I spoke about issues of environmental issues, climate change and social awareness in this regard, while other members discussed the other beautiful side of life i.e. travelling, parties and fun. I was not welcomed as they were later on and not because I hate the other side of life, in fact, I love it but we were ignoring the harsh reality and I was after that. It was like ' I have a home why I discuss homeless people'. I must admit, I'm a fail guy who tried to entirely focus on global issues and put his part while inviting his fellow young personals from every field of life i.e. science, arts, humanitarians and law etc. but, failed to draw their attention cause we want to ignore the harsh reality and just completely wants to look on bright side. Or bright side for me they, the audience didn't understand my message because of my low English speaking skills (optimism). Either the case rather than living happily in the world of fantasies, it is time to write and create social awareness about the issues, about the topics those needs to resolve quickly as possible else, it will hunt us down without differentiating us on behalf of territories or cultural or linguistics but humans.
