Backstage, two deaf and mute dancers,

Nearby, a metal gong rested on the lap of a musician, 15-year-old Wang Bin (王賓). As his left hand touched the center of the gong, his right hand lightly tapped it, and he turned his head to one side to listen more clearly to the sound. Vocalist Yang Hai-tao (楊海濤), who was also blind, suddenly asked, "Who will lead me to the stage later on?"

Zumu Laiti (祖木來提), a folksinger who belongs to the Hui, a Chinese Muslim minority group, finished applying her makeup and turned her attention to Yang. Standing up on one foot she reached out to smooth the wrinkles from Yang's costume, and then she lightly touched a powder puff to his cheeks and gently wiped away beads of sweat from his forehead. The beautiful young lady, with her fine, Caucasian features, spoke softly to Yang, "Don't worry, you won't be left behind."

This scenario was permeated with a relaxed and cordial atmosphere. Although all of the members were handicapped, no one was waiting to be attended to. In contrast, all of the performers were busily attending to one task or another--some were ironing, sewing and changing clothes, others were setting up instruments or rehearsing. Everything was in order and flowing smoothly, each person attuned to helping the other if needed.

Li Hai-ying (李海穎), a singer with polio, was skillfully sewing buttons onto a peacock-feathered dance dress. The mother of a six-year-old child, Li, 31, displayed the elegant charm of a mature lady. When asked how the team members shared these jobs, she replied, "Each of us does what we can according to our level of disability." She added that troupe members were very united and not afraid of hard work or getting their hands dirty. Every member always did what they saw needed to be done.

"The unspoken consensus between us makes us one big family, just like Tzu Chi people who are willing to give of themselves for others," said Li. "When people are impressed by the help that others give, they also want to give of themselves by helping others."

Li combed the hair of Zhao Li-gang (趙立綱), a deaf male dancer. Yang Hai-tao and Wang Bin were both blind, but these two men helped each other to correctly adorn their costume hats. The performers did indeed treat one another like family members, even helping each other to get on and off the stage.

When Jin Yuan-hui (金元輝), a pianist, was preparing to be guided onto the stage, an assistant noticed that the front of Jin's dress was slightly marked. Wiping it clean with a piece of tissue paper, the assistant reminded Jin, "When you wash your clothes tomorrow, remember to rub the second button hole a little harder."

"Yuan-hui, do you always wash your own clothes?" I asked.

"Yes, I always do it myself."

During the intermission, a few girls in butterfly costumes gathered together to decide which of the bookmarks inscribed with phrases from Master Cheng Yen's Still Thoughts Aphorisms they would like to keep. The bookmarks were written by Lin Mei-e (林美娥), a Tzu Chi volunteer calligrapher, and the girls finally decided on this one: "The difficulties and the torments in our lives are necessary tests for our growth."

Life is indeed like a stage, I thought, with both its front and back sections. Onstage, the applause for a good performance is only temporary. But without the support of friends backstage, no amount of applause can fill the emptiness of one's heart.

I read the following comments on the program from one of their performances:

Every time they eat, the deaf always prepare the rice for the blind first before they themselves eat. Each time they go out to have fun, the deaf always hold the hands of the blind so they can touch this world. The combination of the deaf and the blind is disheartening, because even though they are together every day, they can't really talk to each other. It's hard to imagine that many times the deaf mumble when they talk, but only the blind can understand them; on the other hand, a gesture from the blind is only understandable to the deaf.

They don't have any professional makeup artist, so before every performance, female performers put on makeup for the male performers, and the deaf help the blind with their makeup. They also correct each other and practice their movements, so they can present the best on the stage.

Their rehearsals are the quietest in the whole world. Without music or oral cues, these young people feel the joy of dance in a world of silence that no ordinary people can comprehend. Only their smiles and concentration make us forget they are a little bit different from us.

Their performances display the linkage of minds, whether onstage or offstage. Their confidence, passion, persistence, and mutual help glow with the zealous light of life.