MAKING A DIFFERENCE IN PARADISE

by Jan Cornall
July 1, 2008
In years gone by individuals seeking escape and meaning in their lives would join the French Foreign Legion or become missionaries in the Amazon. Chances are they were so successful they were never seen again! But in today’s socially and politically aware world there are numerous options available for combining holiday escape with meaningful action. With a click of the mouse you can volunteer to help refugees in strife-torn Darfur or teach English in a Nepalese orphanage. You can choose to give the French ski resort a miss for a season, and pay the same for an eco holiday in an environmental hotspot or endangered forest, saving rare turtles or tropical butterflies. Or you can adopt a worthy cause in a country or region close by.

Last time I was in Bali I met two couples from Perth who have adopted Yayasan Bumi Sehat, a not-for-profit natural childbirth and health clinic in the artisan hill town of Ubud. Tucked away in the village of Nyu Kuning just behind Ubud’s famous Monkey Forest, this centre receives regular visits from travellers bringing donations of vitamins, medicines, clothing, and requested items from their current wish list.

The Perth group travel to Bali every year and always pad their luggage with useful gifts for the centre. It’s a way of giving something back to a community that doesn’t always benefit from tourist dollar, they explained to me in the small Bumi Sehat office, as they unpacked a cache of much needed homeopathic medicines, donated by the South Australian company, Brauer.

Filipino/American Robin Lim, founder and head midwife of the centre (also a talented author and poet), laughed as they remarked how much better she was looking this year. Last time they visited, Robin had just returned from a gruelling stint at Bumi Sehat’s Aceh Clinic, set up in the days following the 2004 Tsunami.

What started out as a tarpaulin shack is now a two  story clinic sponsored by Rotary Bali Ubud. The land was purchased by an old friend of Robins, (not an uncommon source of income for Bumi Sehat), from a man who had lost his whole family in the tsunami. Manned by western volunteers and local paid staff it now provides an essential and accessible service for mothers, babies, and their families.

The word  ‘accessible’ is operative here, as medical care of any kind in Indonesia, unless you have health insurance, or can pay cash up front, is definitely ‘inaccessible’. If you give birth in hospital and can’t pay the bill, they keep the baby until you can. If there are complications, as there often are, family members must sell land, houses and hock everything they can, taking on a cycle of debt they will never resolve.

Combine this with the fact that maternal mortality in Bali and Aceh is unusually high, it is easy to understand where the staff and supporters of Bumi Sehat get the passion and drive to carry on. Their unswerving belief that – somehow, the money or resources will come from somewhere - means that getting by on a month-to-month basis is a daily reality. Thus every bit of support from travellers passing through or the next shift of volunteers arriving is an event to be celebrated.
In fact the atmosphere at the Bumi Sehat’s Ubud clinic is not unlike a continuous family party, as village patients, young and old, arrive for treatments, volunteers gather to swap notes, a friend drops in to celebrate their birthday with cake for all, and an impromptu sing along strikes up. Meanwhile in the birthing rooms nearby, women labour on, as staff and relatives come and go and the cries of the newborn join the buzz. And if you hang around long enough on any given day on the comfy couch outside the birthing rooms, as I did, you will be called in to help.

On a seven baby day, (their record so far), I was privileged to attend two births as observer and record taker. It was my job to stand by with a clipboard, and note the times of crowning, birth, placenta passing and first feed. Both water births, with floating frangipanni blooms, incense and the sounds of the soft Balinese mantra intoned by the midwives, were simple, quiet and extraordinary events. Soon the mothers were receiving their stitches, feeding their babies and my job was over. The team rotated and volunteers caught up with sleep in their rooming house across the way, while in the open-air treatment room, the bi-weekly holistic clinic was just getting going.  A traditional medicine doctor, two homeopaths, a cranial specialist and chiropractor from Australia, Canada and the U.S. ministered their skill to local patients through the smoky haze of chinese moxa herb.

Dr Bobbie Aqua, from the United States, a  traditional chinese medicine doctor who arrived at the clinic in 2003, is just one of many volunteers from all over the world who have become a permanent part of the Bumi Sehat family. Like Robin, she is speedy and talks at a rapid pace, multi tasking and making decisions on the hop as she moves between medical and administrative tasks, always taking time, as good doctors do, to enquire with genuine care after your well being.
Travellers who once found the clinic by chance have become lifelong friends and supporters, responding to Yayasan Bumi Sehat’s atmosphere of generous care by returning again and again to help out. “It’s hard not to become addicted to these people and their cause,” one volunteer told me, “as they show us what is really possible when you stop talking about taking action, and simply - take action.”

During my short stay I admit yes, I too became a Bumi Sehat addict. On my next trip to Bali, I know I will be going back for more, with a big fat suitcase of supplies. Care to join me?
Jan Cornall is a regular traveller to Bali. Her novel “Take Me To Paradise” is set in Ubud.

Extra Info

Yayasan Bumi Sehat – Gentle Births for a Peaceful Future, was voted best Yayasan (not-for-profit) in Bali in 2006 from 700 other not-for-profit organisations.

Volunteers needed are health professionals, midwives, nursing assistants, student interns, fund raisers, non profit experts, graphic designers, youth workers and English teachers. Volunteers must commit to a minimum of six weeks with longer stays being preferable. Donation, volunteer info and wish list  http://www.bumisehatbali.org/

LEARN TO RELAX

by Jan Cornall

June 1, 2008

RELAXED is  the state I will be aspiring for in ‘08. I’m planning to slow down a notch by doing everything I normally do, but  in slow motion. So join me if you will. Try it around the house at first. Pretend you are walking under water or on the moon. Do it for 15 mins or so, while you eat your breakfast and see how you feel (apart from very silly!) Try it when you are walking down the street, in the park or on the way to the water cooler ( muttering “a giant step for mankind, a slow step for me,” he he).

Why am I going on about relaxation you ask?

In the middle of the year between all my teaching and comings and goings I decided to go for all those regular medical you put off when you are too busy. You know - the mole check, pap smear, mammogram round, with a few blood tests thrown in for good measure.

The mammogram caught a little fish and I ended up having a lumpectomy (more like a slice-ectomy) with radiotherapy to follow. Don’t be alarmed. It’s only DCIS - that’s non invasive abnormal cells in the milk duct - really nothing to worry about UNLESS it decides to come back as invasive cancer which it does in 30% on women, which is why they excise it and blast the shite out of the site with radio.

I said to them “can’t I do DIY  radio therapy at home?”  Just holding a radio with John Laws Toxic Talkback  to my breast every day for 6 weeks – would kill anything for sure! They said “yes that could  help,  but didn’t you know he’s retired?” I said “oh that’s too bad, what about Alan Jones?”  They said “Laws has optimal toxicity and can only be taken live, so it will be down to the X ray room for you I’m afraid.”

As you can see I have discovered a new topic for my bent writers mind - DCIS Ductal Carcinoma In Situ, is the confused, unrecognised, misunderstood underdog of all the  breast cancers, and I am planning to MILK IT for all its worth, so stay tuned!

The Power of Connection

by Alison Nancye

May 7, 2008 

I wrote this story back on 5 April 2005, and I thought it would be a great one to share with anyone who wanted to read a real life experience of the incredible 'connection' we have with others, if we stay open to it. It's also a great story, for pregnant mums, birthing mums and new mums. Enjoy :)
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Many of us have experienced a ‘co-incidence’. An example might be when we think of someone we haven’t spoken to in a while and sure enough, they call. We usually say something like, ‘what a co-incidence, I was just thinking about you’, and the person often responds acknowledging the ‘co-incidence’. But if millions of people all around the world have had this same experience, then surely there must be more to it than mere co-incidence!

A couple of years ago I embarked on a training journey (Living from Greatness now called The Magician's Way) in spiritual awareness, creating your life using your Intuition, and the authentic self.  The program introduced various meditative and visualisation processes, much like that of the Buddhist teachings. It also enlightened each participant in the development of our innate intuition. The processes enabled us to strip away our current thoughts and feelings, which are often associated with our ego and rational mind, and connect with the spirit inside ourselves - our innocent and authentic self.

I further learned that our spirit is able to ‘connect’ with other people’s spirits. It is a common turn of phrase to suggest egos and personalities clash, yet in our modern world we are still less likely to propose that our sprits ‘connect’ or communicate with each other. But they do. And nothing would prepare me for how much, until recently when I gave birth to my daughter.

I had a dream pregnancy with no morning sickness to complain of so expected a relatively straightforward and uncomplicated labour. But when my due date came and went, my stress levels increased. Adding to this stress was the thought of intervention through inducement. Something about this felt quite unnatural to me so I wanted to do whatever I could to avoid it. I decided to take action in to my own hands.

Friday afternoon arrived and I was determined for my baby to be born on the weekend instead of the hospital intervening Monday as scheduled. I decided it was time to ‘connect’ with my baby and disconnect with the rest of the world. I turned off my mobile phone, didn’t answer the door and chose to spend the afternoon soaking in a hot bath, meditating and imagining I was talking to my unborn baby.  I kept repeating phrases such as ‘how much I was looking forward to being its mummy’, ‘how much I loved and wanted it’, ‘how much love its parents had for each other’, and ‘how ready we were for it to be born’.

I asked my husband that evening if we could meditate together and ‘bring the baby on’.  We placed our hands on my big pregnant belly and spoke to our unborn baby, first as individuals and then as a couple.  Letting our baby know we were ready, that we wanted it to come that weekend and instead of being unnaturally induced. The meditative process took my husband and I about 20 minutes and later we settled down for the evening.

3.30am that morning, I experienced my first contraction. An unfamiliar sharp and surging pain that woke me from my deep sleep, forcing me to leap out of bed. I grabbed hold of the wall and took a breath to move through it.  “What was that?” I thought to myself. “Was that a contraction?” surely it couldn’t be.  “I’ll just check the time and make a note.” I went back to bed. The contractions repeated themselves, each 25 minutes apart, and finally I woke my husband with excitement and said, “honey I think I’m in labour”. Over the next little while, in between leaping toward the wall with frequent and surging pains, I kept asking him if he thought I was in labour. He laughed and replied, “of course you are”, wondering why I doubted it.

I doubted the uncanny ‘co-incidence’ of going in to labour so soon after connecting with our baby. Strange it would seem, that I would doubt the ‘power of connection’ when I had spent the past two years allowing these principles to significantly guide me to my new and amazing life.  But I doubted myself more than I doubted it.

So the labour continued slowly until 5pm when my contractions grew to five minutes apart. We were really excited now. However, after arriving at the hospital my excitement was crushed and my fears kicked in again. The midwife said I was only 1cm dilated, my waters hadn’t broken and I had a long way to go. She also said she was concerned because I was severely dehydrated and as a result my baby was in foetal distress. Now this was not how I envisaged my labour. So my perfect pregnancy was definitely a thing of the past and my not so perfect labour was very clearly my current reality.

The midwife hooked me up to a machine that allowed her to monitor the progress of both me and my baby. She explained to my husband and friend (my birthing partners) that she needed the baby to start moving and how this would be represented on the machine printout.

My birthing partners then asked me what I needed. “I want to connect with the baby”, I replied. “Let’s mediate and visualise together. Read me one of those meditative mantras I found on the Internet”.  And as my friend repeated the mantras, my husband held my hand and fuelled me with love and fluids. “Let’s tell the baby that we need it to start moving like the midwife instructed”, I added before closing my eyes and imagining this was now happening.

About 20 minutes later I noticed my friend had welled up with tears. “Look”, she said emotionally, “ it’s doing it, the monitor has moved, the baby is doing what we needed it to do.” All three of us grew teary with excitement. The midwife arrived soon after, confirming our claims. She turned to us and said, “well I don’t know what you people have been doing in here, but this baby is right where we need it to be”. None of us could believe it. We went from a very critical medical situation to everything back on track again.  Now, that is the ‘power of connection’. The whole time I was talking to my unborn baby it heard me. I went on to deliver a healthy baby that weekend after 30 hours of labour.

My daughter is now nine weeks old and there’s not a single day now that I doubt the ‘power of connection’. She knows all my moods and in turn they affect hers.  She smiles every time I read her a story and stops to look in the direction of her daddy’s voice when he comes home each evening. She is ‘connected’ to us yet hasn’t uttered a single word to tell us she understands what we are saying.

So the next time I’m thinking about someone and they call, I’ll know that it’s not a ‘co-incidence’ at all but in fact ‘the power of connection’, as if telling them I’d love to hear from them.

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OVERCOMING GRIEF

Life after loosing my best friend to suicide

 

by Amanda Turnbull

February 18, 2008 

Eight months ago my ex-boyfriend, decided to take his own life. Adrian's death came as a tremendous shock to all who knew him. When you lose someone to suicide, despite knowing on a conscious level that they had made their decision, it does not bring you peace of mind. You still struggle to truly accept that there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.

If only 

Like a broken record your mind replays the “If only…”
“If only I had been more attentive last time I saw him.”
“If only I had sent my text message a few hours earlier.”
“If only I had told him how much he meant to me.”
“If only I hadn’t left him.”
“If only…”

Too young to die 

My grief was exacerbated further by the fact that he was so young. To lose one of my peers caused me great introspection. I realised that for all of my worrying about the future, analysing my life and trying to avoid pain and avoid making mistakes… Ultimately, I did not decide on my life’s agenda.

Pain can not be avoided. It sounds so simple in theory, yet how often do we try to avoid it? How many of us can say we’re entirely comfortable with uncertainty, entirely comfortable with being vulnerable and completely unfazed by the unknown?

Life lesson to remember 

I felt so helpless about not being able to help him. I also felt a greater sense of helplessness now that I had learnt how ephemeral and unpredictable life really was. This was not a life lesson I wanted to forget. I needed to take action, to do something…

Helping those less fortunate helped me in the healing process

A few months later, I realised one way I could possibly overcome my feelings of helplessness. I had met Adrian in a share house in Redfern two years ago, during a particularly difficult period in my own life. His maturity and insight into the world taught me a lot during the time we spent together. In particular, his acceptance of people from all walks of life and his sense of fun and spontaneity made a significant impact upon my own world views.

I wanted to use what he had taught me and reconnect with the neighbourhood of which we were a part. So I started to think about how I could possibly help others in the area. I admit – I was partly motivated by a desire to feel close to him in the only way I knew how. I thought that maybe if I could actively contribute to improving our community, I could replace my painful memories with some new, happier ones.

I began to research charities and organisations in the area that were advertising for volunteers. Eventually I decided upon a homeless shelter that was seeking individuals to assist them in the evenings by cooking dinner and conversing with the guests.

Now I give a few hours of my time each fortnight to the shelter. I sacrifice a bit of my time, but what I am rewarded with is far greater. It is difficult to explain, but when I am at the shelter any fears or anxieties I walk in with quickly dissipate. I am completely present. There are more important things to focus on – namely, the other people I am surrounded with.

Underneath it all, we are all equal

They may be some of societies most disadvantaged (not only because they’re homeless – there is also a high incidence of mental illness, drug dependency, etc) but they accept me without question just as I accept them. For a few fleeting hours we are all equal – united by the simple fact that we are all human beings.

In the process, it has helped me immeasurably with my own grief. I occasionally suffered nightmares about his death, which have since ceased. Similarly, my feelings of helplessness have been abated as I am now regularly reminded that I can make a difference to the quality of life for someone else. I am also reminded of how fortunate I am and of what truly matters.

Make the most of the time we have 

You can not solve another person’s problems or shelter them entirely from pain. In fact, you can not protect yourself from these things completely either. We can only try and make the most of the time that we have because – as anyone who has lost someone can tell you – it’s all too fleeting.

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