Friday, January 20, 2017

Goat-Fuckers, Drug Abuse and Canadian Values

The  Trudeau family  changed forever  Canada’s values regarding  public profanity.  First Fuddle duck Trudeau senior blurted out the word “fuck!” in the once hallowed  House of Commons.   Like the dirty little boy he was he later lied about it, but the die was cast.  His very impressionable  shirtless selfie son, known for getting away with  his elitist abuses of  marijuana , followed his dead Daddy, shoutingt  “Get the fuck out of my way” and  titting an attractive opposition member just to get his point across what it means to be  feminist man.
Meanwhile the Clintons and their supporters have been involved in so many sexual shenanigans that one really asks how can one talk about American politics of the left without using evocative words.
I, therefore ,might have in the past, to protect sensitive ,ever ready to be offended, little lady feminists,  alluded only to  goat-fornication. However, it is the 21st Century.
The CIA , Canadian and American military have  extensively reported on "goat fuckers". Cluster fuck, once a military speciality is now hardly heard of since the rise of  goat fuckers.  The capture of  masses of pornographic literature and pictures  in the Middle East and Africa exposed that the main attraction of radical muslim terrorists is for goats.  The virgins in heaven is indeed a ‘beard’ . A beard refers to the the women who used to marry homosexuals to allow them to fit in mainstream society.    Radical muslim terrorists are quite simply goat fuckers who would have the world believe that they want virgin women, but only in heaven.  
Personally I’ve never, to my knowledge, met a goat fucker.  Indeed they are a deceitful lot so if I had met one they probably would not have declared themselves.   In my work I’ve met  horse fornicators and cow fornicators. Bestiality,  though not common here, does exist.  Fornication with goats and the desire to fornicate with goats apparently goes hand and hoof with radical muslim terrorisms.  There have been other terrorists such as the IRA but they never associated with goat fucking.     The IRA weren’t’ even associated in the comedy with sheep as the poor down under Australians are.  Now though, if  I met a radical muslim terrorist, based on the latest findings  I would consider him  as likely to  be a goat fucker.
Goat fuckers might be be welcome in some countries and  selected mosques  but nowhere in Canada and especially not in Canadian Christian churches could a goat fucker feel reasonably   at home. The fact is, Canadians don’t tolerate goat fuckers. It’s a central and fundamental Canadian value.
I have used the term “goat fucker'  in my work.   I have told patients who have stopped using drugs, like  heroin,  fentanyl,  cocaine,and crystal meth,  that those,  who remain successfully abstinent for five years , have a fundamental  change in attitude towards drugs.   It is so significant that if they were offered a drug five years abstinent they’d still say something like,  “No thank you,  I’m not into goat fucking anymore.”  Drug addicts commonly normalize their drug addiction behaviour and forget how shocking and  radically wrong it is to healthy Canadians.  
There have been nearly a thousand  drug overdose deaths here this last year.  Other  nations, cultures and  religions  might not consider this  the cluster fuck it is.  That's because they don’t share Canadian values.  Canadians  collectively are angered and ashamed that our most vulnerable are being killed by criminal greed driven heartless  drug dealers.
The Canadian band, Steppenwolf, wrote and sang the song “Goddam the Pusherman” to millions of Canadians. Canadians value individual lives. They do not respect criminals.  And they value those with the greatest clarity, men like Canadian astronaut, Colonel Hatfield.
Perhaps terrorists who indiscriminately blow up children with their bombs see goat fucking as normal. Canadian  men and women on earth and in heaven , virgins or not,  do not accept goat fuckers or goat fucking as acceptable.     In Canada we value the individual, love all children, denounce terrorism and  respect women.
There are those who do not know Canadian values.  The sad legacy of the uncultured Trudeaus leaves this false impression.  Thanks to the leadership of Dr. Kellie Leitch,  Canadians are being reminded of what Canadians truly do value and what they do not.
It seems sad that we have to clarify this. Say no to goat fucking.  Value Canada.
And welcome President Donald Trump, whose inauguration as the 45th President occurs today.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

A better way to pray

A colleague game me Andrew Wommack’s book, A Better Way to Pray.  I’m reading it.  I try to set aside a little time for spiritual reading each eay. I was reading the Bible cover to cover again but the app I was using began messing up so I stopped that.  I was reading a daily reflections book but it just wore out.  A bathroom spiritual book I’d rescued once too often from the sink or toilet or floor.  So I picked up Andrew Wommack.  He’s  with Charis Bible College in Colorado Springs.  Right off his way of writing, American colloquial, the buddy talk of a guy you meet in a diner, kind of pissed me off. I’m a bit more intellectual and prefer less ‘glad hand’ salesman writing. Yet the friend who gave me this book is not at all like that.  So I continued on till I struck gold.
"Prayer is communing with God,”  Now that I can wrap my mind around. There’s formal times when I pray, in church, out walking in the woods, on the beach.  I actually stop and talk to God by name. I say Jesus, because my God is called Jesus, when I’m praying like that. Mostly I speak to God as “my father’, or ‘my lord’ or even sometimes, God of Gods.  And alright, the guy who was knocking the glad hand salesman talk also calls God, look dude.  Our relationship is fluid.  It’s like a father and son or like brothers.  I know about those relationships. I don’t really know how one is supposed to communicate with the Creator, the Lord of All ,the Great Kahoonah, the Emperor God, the Mastermind behind it all, the Holy Spirit, the Higher Power. There’s no real, ‘right way’.
But Andrew Wommack, who by his writing has obviously done a lot of praying and read and listened a lot on praying, to my mind has some really good ideas about prayer. He quotes the Holy Scripture a lot. And who but Jesus knew the most about prayer.  Thy Will Be Done.
Right now I’m asking God for a new truck and the wealth to purchase this without loss to myself.  I want to manifest a truck. I want to have a truck show up outside my door with angels and horns and hallelujahs.
It’s okay that I want anew  truck. It’s okay that I ask God for a new truck.  I certainly don’t want to ask the devil.  I might ride like the devil but I don’t want to ride a truck from the devil.  Besides I might argue I have my motorcycle for all those shenanigans. What I want the truck for is to drive people about. This weekend I’d pick up a family and their kids if I had a truck.  I mostly need a truck to pull my RV and to haul my ATV out into the woods.
But I don’t spend all day, begging Jesus for a truck.  It would even be better if I was praying for a truck for someone else. That’s more unselfish prayer.  The motive in the prayer counts. Andrew Wommack talks about that. If I was praying for a truck to bomb the Trump inauguration God simply wouldn’t give me a truck for that purpose. The devil might but not God.  Jesus is all about creation not destruction.  He might want to destroy my addiction but his way of lifting my desire for negative things is through attracting me to positive things. I think of exercise. I have to eat less and exercise more so God isn’t beating me up about my expanding girth as much as he’s inviting me to enjoy less weight and more mobility. Today I loved walking the dog in the rain, mostly.  I did hurt picking up his shit and that reminded me that I’m too much at my desk and need to do more stretching and moving about. I actually did some stretching last night.  God wants me to be healthy.  He wants me to live long and well if that is my desire.
Mostly God wants my companionship.  James Houston of Regent College wrote a book on prayer and it really emphasized that idea of being a companion to God. Sometimes I just talk over my day and what’s going on with God.  I do the same with my dog and in many ways my relationship with my dog mirrors my relationship with God.  My dog is with me most of the day. He’s often lying under my desk while I’m working. I’m always communing with my dog in that way. We’re together. I reach out and touch him to reassure myself he’s there. I sometimes just look over at him and feel good that he’s there.
I’m a God seeker.  Be Still and Know That I am God is one of my favourite prayers.  Sometimes we say meditation is listening to God and prayer is talking to God. I like meditating too. I like to let my mind focus on some positive word or thought or phrase from the Bible and repeat ‘come holy spirit come’.  Something like that. Anything to take my mind off all the chatter and anxiety and worry and regret that it can sometimes get into. Often I just repeat Jesus Christ over and over to myself. I like the Hail Mary Prayer and Lord’s Prayer and All Shall Be Well. But I use those prayers to distract my mind when I’m afraid or sad.  I think at those times my mind is going in reverse or in  the wrong gear and I just need to get it in neutral for a bit before I can shift into the right gear forward.
Other times I’m just registering the beauty of God in creation, like the smells this morning in the fresh rain.
Andrew Womack said Prayer is Communing with God. I like that. Probably because I like communing with God. It’s like being in community with God. It’s like having God in my heart.  God’s not out there distant but near like my dog under the desk. I like that.
So even though I didn’t like the ‘authority’ talk of Andrew Wommack, he talks like he knows God, which he really seems to, but I thought ‘he talks like he knows God more than me’ and that wasn’t a particularly Godly thought. Not that I know God more than the next guy but I am pretty prickly these days.  I know from the scripture I’m supposed to be slow to anger. I know I have a whole lot of character defects and I do ask God to remove these from me.  I ask God to make me a better a person. I ask God always to make me a better doctor. I’m studying and learning and reflecting and practicing but I’m also just asking God, please God mould me. I think of a potter’s wheel and ask god to make me more what I might be best to serve his goals.  I swear too much I think I have tourette’s syndrome. I beat myself up something fiercer and I’m lazy and don’t do nearly enough good stuff.  I’m often just going along on automatic rather than celebrating the time and the day.  God is in the present.  God is known in the now. God is here and now. God is always and ever.  God is with me and in me above and below and beside me. God is all.
I like Andrew Wommack and I like the friend who gave me his book.
Yesterday a patient gave me a picture of a Mother with a heart of love from Romania. His sister has given her life to the service of God and sent this back with him as a gift for me.  I was touched by this. It’s on my wall now so I can look up and be reminded that God’s love for me is like a mother’s love.  I miss my mother who is now in heaven but I can know God’s love as her love was for me.  I am forgiven. I am loved.
Prayer is communing with God.  Thank you Andrew Wommack

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Let there be light (in the bathroom)

Normally I’d just phone Eric at Starfleet Repairs.  He’s amazing. Comes out and fixes something like this and charges me a hundred dollars or so, given he drives out and does the repairs. However he’d solved my frozen water line problem before Christmas.
Then I was away in New York City so I’d not sent him the cheque for this.   I figured I’d just fix it myself rather than asking Eric to do something before he’d received the cheque. The cheque really was in the mail. First thing I did when I got back to the office.
I like to keep my hand in too. I’ve done all these kind of repairs since fixing things with my father and my brother as a kid.  It’s like bicycling. You don’t forget. It just takes time to remember.
The light was fried.  Darkness. Eric has replaced a couple of these overhead lamps with newer better ones.
I looked up on the internet where the closest RV supply store was.
North Shore RV Ltd was the closest.  Beautiful young woman in charge.  Confused me with a a whole lot of choices.  She had bathroom lights in stock. She had a catalogue of alternatives. She asked me if I wanted incandescent bulb or LED. I was confused and thankful she showed me the two choices.

"Which is brightest?  I need light to shave?”  I asked.
“LED, maybe. They’re about the same. But the LED  doesn’t get hot  like incandescent so less risk of fire.”
“Sold.”  I didn’t know.  Fire scares me.

Now I go home.   I learned years ago to turn off the breakers.  (I won’t get into that story.)
I love my screw driver. I have Pickwick 6 pack plus all over the place. A couple on the boat, in truck, in the garage, in the kitchen drawer. Pickwick is my favourite.
 I like screwing.  Unscrewing is fun too.
I had the old light off the ceiling in no time.  They hid the screws under the clear plastic bit but I found them.
Now I had wires. I have spliced and crimped connectors on wires by the hundreds on my boat.  It turns out now turns that my crimper and the connectors are all on the boat.
So I have to go to Lordco to get a crimper and  connectors. The trouble is the truck wouldn't start. It’s not been used in weeks and the diesel engine is a pig in cold.  I used my Miata to charge the battery but it didn't start.

It’s been 31 years since Barbara did heroin. Randy and a whole lot of other people were going for dinner to celebrate but I didn’t want to drive the sportscar on the ice last night when I couldn’t get the truck to start because the battery was dead.  It’s still dead.  Walking Gilbert along the trail today was more like skating. Some mallards flew up when we went by.  Gilbert thinks all of this is an adventure. I'd  thrown the yellow squeaky tennis ball for him for a bit and that made his day. He’s talked with a three other dogs today.

Yesterday I talked with an older guy who lived in Smithers about trucks.
“Diesel don’t like the cold.”
“Some Fords’ are really good but I’ve always liked my GMC."
“I’m thinking of trading my Ford Diesel in for a GMC gas.  If I was getting another diesel I’d go Dodge for the Cummings engine but I think I’m going back to gas. Used to like diesel when the fuel was cheap and the engines didn’t have all the environmental extras."
“I like my GMC. It’s diesel but the glow plugs are the best. Still my friend’s gas always starts faster.  Don’t have block heaters down here like we do up north. I still think I’ll go gas next time. "


The Lordco Store  is on North Road  in Burnaby.  Lordco people are always friendly.   Two guys and girl offered suggestions on which crimper and which box of connectors to get. I was the only customer at that time.   I spend $26 bucks.

Gilbert loves all this driving about and walking and pissing everywhere.  He’s my buddy.

Back in the bathroom,  with the breaker still off, I cut the wires.  I am always surprised that I don’t electrocute myself. Having electrocuted myself, a little personal shock therapy for my own insanity moment (forgetting to turn off breakers) , I’m always really happy not to be dancing and jumping up and down like I’ve tazered myself.   I use the wire cutting par tof the crimping tool.  The crimping tool is like a swiss army knife for electricians.
Oh oh. The wire coming out of the ceiling is black and white and the wire in the new lamp is black and red.  Normally you’d think black to black.
However,  electricians all belong to the Freemasons and were Lawyers at one time and now are Bildernbergs so they have this whole gnostic thing going on.  If it’s AC like house wiring black to black might work and red is red but with DC it’s different.  So I clean away some insulation on the wire and tie the wire bits together , black to black and white to red.  I think about this and look it up on the internet which is really confusing because there's all this  FAKE NEWS all over the internet especially in the electrical sections. Now this is  about the simplest of wiring problems so it's where they do try to kill off the stupid.
There’s wiring for liberals and wiring for conservatives, Tory and Whig wiring and Republican and Democrat wiring. There are diagrams put together by philosophy students. It’s all utter bullshit.  I don’t trust any of it.
 I pull on the wire. I like pulling on wires.
Sure enough the black wire is attached to a white red wire.  Pretty sneaky. Maybe it’s a DC thing. Or Ottawa.  It could just be the guy who put in the lamp was left handed or an Australian.  Often with wiring the guy who does the repair has the wrong colour of wire but uses it anyway.  It pays to double check everything when it comes to the simplest wiring task.
So now with a little tape I try putting together different wiring combinations and turning on the breakers. Amazingly one combination the red to the black to the red actually works. There is light. Light, glorious light!!!
So now I crimp the connectors together,   Yes I remembered to turn off the breakers.  Then I crimp the other ground wire together. I ‘m really thankful there are no green wires this time. The Green Wire folk are energy conscious or something.  Green wires are often sneaky useless redundant wires.  I’m confused enough but I pray the wires are connected.  I turn the breakers on. By Gods’ grace I'm not electrocuted, there is no arc and I don't set the bathroom on fire
I’m ready to finish it up but I need electrical tape. I especially love the liquid electrical tape.  But I don’t seem to have either.
I have duct tape. I consider Duct Tape an essential life ingredient but normally I have black electrical tape too. There’s none in the tool box, none in the junk drawer, none in the garage. I actually get dressed and take Gilbert for another walk and don’t find any in the truck. I am amazed because I always have electrical tape. I know where. It’s on the boat with the crimping tools and electrical connectors. But I can’t find any here. I walk to the local store and they have Duct tape but no electrical tape.

Walking home I meet Mac.
“Happy New Year,” he says and ,”Hi Gilbert”.
Mac has a dog and Gilbert and his dog play together. Like all dog owners we acknowledge the dogs of their owners.  Mac  pets Gilbert while talking to me.
“Have you got any electrical tape, really handy.”  I ask.
“In my truck."
“No don’t bother.”  Mac’s always helping me. He keeps an eye on things. I don’t want him to go out of his way. I have the duct tape.
“It’s no bother,” Mac says. He’s dressed like me in a parka and mits and togue and it’s cold. We can see each other’s breath. You aren’t supposed to see breath in Vancouver. This isn't a Winnipeg or Edmonton.  It’s too damn cold for Vancouver.
“I’ve got duct tape." I say, " I’ve already crimped the connectors.  I just wanted to tape it up too. Duct tape is non conductible, isn’t it?"
“Yea, duct tape would work."

I part.  I take Gilbert and go into the warm.  I love the warm. I take off 100 lbs of clothing and feel great back in shorts and t shirt. I get the Duct Tape and prepare to wrap.
Then I remember.
I have electrical tape in the motorcycle bags.  I just have to find the motorcycle keys. I hide them.  Sometimes it takes me a while to find them.
I put on some sweat pants and slip ons and go outside in my t shirt with Gilbert . He's delighted to have another chance to pee  and sniff stuff. I look in the Harley luggage.  Sure enough, there’s the black electrical tape.
Back in the warm, I wrapped the wires I’ve connected with connectors with black electrical tape.
Next I can’t get the clear plastic top off the dome lights and break a tab before I can get both out.
The mounting holes are purposely hidden inside the light.
I'm pleased with myself because I haven’t lost the screws I took out earlier. I actually remembered to put a towel in the sink so I didn’t clog the sink with falling screws. There are so many things in life you know to do from having done the wrong thing in the past.  I created a plumbing problem once working over my sink. Not this time.
I like screwing. I  screwed the new lamp to the ceiling after pushing the wires up in the hole.  I actually put the breakers back on and tested the light to see it actually still worked before I finalized the job.  Wow!
I actually have light, in my bathroom.  I have light in my bathroom. It's brighter and it shows the dirt more.
It took me about  three hours.  I started before noon and it’s now nearly 4 pm.
I did change the propane tank because the heat went off while I was working.
 also stopped for lunch. I’d boiled some eggs this week so I squished up three of them in a bowl.  I mixed them with salt and pepper and mayonnaise and buttered some toast to put around this concoction. I had these egg salad sandwiches sitting looking out the window while Gilbert had a little caesar beef dish.
I have shaved with a flash light since the light packed it in on Tuesday.  I showered in candlelight. That was kind of romantic, except I was alone.
I’m rather pleased with the light.  Changing a light fixture is about the simplest most basic job a guy can do with electrical wiring but it is really fulfilling.  It’s almost as much fun as target shooting bottles at the gravel pit.

Eric would have done this in 15 minutes. He’s amazing.  Tom was supposed to come over today and we were going to replace the light and go look at trucks. Tom’s an engineer and can fix anything mechanical or electrical. He finds hearts and souls a challenge but if it’s governed by the laws of physics, he’s got it beat.
He phoned me to say that he got a flat on the way to the highway, changed his tire and then got another flat with his spare so he’s packing it in. He’s gone back to his cabin in the country and isn’t going to venture out again today. Having to fix two flats in this winter weather after only your first cup of coffee is enough to send anyone back to the house.

I called Kevin on my iPhone to coordinate after church lunch time.  It's Laura's birthday and we want to celebrate.  He was out with Anna and the kids.They’ve taken them to the bird sanctuary down south. I told Kevin the last time I was there was with my brother.  We were taking pictures of sand hillcranes. The call ended with him saying, “I”ve got to go. A sand hill crane is attacking Anna and the kids.”
I wouldn’t think any of the people I talked to would have voted Justin Trudeau and the Liberals. I suspect one listens Barry Mannilow.
I liked all the people I talked to today.
God is good. God is good all of the time.
Let there be light (in my bathroom). And there was!!!!

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Friday, January 13, 2017

Journal - Jan 13, 2017 - cold day but still grateful

I woke at 5 am.  I had a great dream.  I was in this perfect little coffee shop with mixture of old English and Turkish decor.  Dark leather couches and seats with deep red carpets, fine art on the wall.  I was talking politics with JJ McCullough. I’d read his Washington Post piece before going to sleep and had been reading about early last centuries rebellion of Arab tribes near Mecca against the Turkish Ottoman Empire.  The outcome of that late night activity was this very pleasant dream of rich conversation and pleasant surroundings. I awoke feeling blessed.  I really am blessed to have such a rich intellectual environment.
There is this issue of ‘fake news’ which has affected the world because the ‘rhetoric’ ‘appeal to authority’ is fizzling in face of the lies and propaganda. I studied logic and rhetoric and literally am appalled at the ignorance of the supposed learned ‘arts crowd’ who persist daily in all the media making errors of reason.  the cognitive distortion in the media and courts is utterly defeating. With the hard sciences and the soft arts the arts has depended more and more on a ‘gun’ or ‘money’ to lay it’s claims. In science the issue is does the thing fly.  Does it blow up something. It’s pretty apparent.  The scientific progress has far outstepped the political and legal environment.  Indeed the need for political and legal reform follows the scientic explosion.
Did anyone consider that the election was an amazingly costly entertainment with fortunes spent on silly hats and banners?  Can we really afford to do this mass hysteria every 4 years. Obviously there is a need for a democratic process and oversight but the whole campaign process seemed unusual in retrospect considering the cost and the amount of time lost in attendance.  Of course compared to a football matter or a Hollywood porn event it’s admirable. We gather for rock stars and productions so perhaps.  Really?  Imagine 2070.  Will this nonsense still be carrying on.
The computer survey and voting mechanisms are not tamper proof. That’s the solution.  Everyone everywhere referendum by computer. Consumer corporations are doing this as we speak.  Trying to find what people like to provide it at profit. Competing as politically there is competion'
But this last election was painful.
I guess trusting in God protects me.  God is good all of the time is a reassurance. This world may be harsh.  Life may get me down but at the centre there is love and concern. God is all and God is love.  The principal anxiety and fear is about the future.  Yet there’s a great book, the Holy Book, and it says, we win in the end.  Heaven is a gift and a reassurance to the Christian and spiritual.  Most religions believe in afterlife and living a good life is rewarded in a good after life. Life goes on, better.  Hell is a consequence of unloving acts. Theres’ a sense that the slate will be sorted out too.  The rich psychopath will suffer and the innocent will be rewarded.  It may be an Easter Bunny dream or for those who choose an Easter promise.
Today my proof in afterlife is my awakening from sleep. What better evidence of the birth death rebirth cycle than the daily reality of my own perceived existence. I am alive. I have this day. Just for today.  God is omniscient so time is an illusion of the bicameral brain.  The separation of the flow is a perceptual process.  Reality is streaming and we make sense of it.  In the now we meet God.  The practice of the presence of God is here and now.  In meditation and prayer I am with God not yesterday or tomorrow but today.  I have no fear in this moment. The closer to the centre of the centre of the centre I become the less I fear and the more I love.I repeat the holy name. Lord Jeus Christ. I call on the Holy Spirit to come. Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me.  I beg. I cajole. I wait.  It’s not that God is an emperor or king but rather he is a friend. My little dog seeks my attention so I will throw his yellow tennis ball for him. I call on god like a baby in humility. I don’t command god. I am like a child with a mother. I am with Jesus, a friend.  I speak to God as all.  There is no wrong way to speak to God.  Just as there is no wrong way for a baby to cry or coo in a crib. It is a mystery. This life is so much unknown. I’m in the cloud of unknowing.  I am alone with God or alone ‘waiting for godot’. There’s a sensate world, that which I experience with senses and an inner castle as St. Theresa describes the spiritual life.
I have just awoken from a dream world and in meditation I actively seek the presence of God by listening to the inner most thoughts and feeling beginning by awareness of my breathing, this thing so essential but which I take for granted. All that is ‘automatic in life I take for granted yet give so much importance to the little stitches and twists and touches I add to the whole of creation. I am present for God. I am with God in all but the automatic is god.  St. Francis called his body Brother Ass.  God is carrying me.  God is all this unseen proces that I take for granted.  It’s the other. It’s Thou.
I have a day ahead of me and have already walked my dog in the bitter cold of today along the icy sidewalk uneven with caked snow and ice.  He is quicker about his business these days of freezing temperature. There’s less lolly gagging. I clean up his poop into a poop bag and drop  it into a back lane bin. Then the two of us hurry back in doors.  Laura is up and makes coffee before she goes to bath.  Gilbert is asleep on her bed. I’m on my second cup of coffee. I’ve eaten the bacon cheese quiche I bought last night at Max’s .
Life is already good. I’ve woken warm inside with a fond dream compared to a nightmare remembrance of the state of passing.  I’ve had indoor plumbing. I’ve a friend beside me and a dog who is really a God send. His enthusiasm in the morning is palpable. My face has already been licked. Now he’s sleeping again.  Visually there’s colour and texture to the surroundings. Somewhere there’s a cat.  I’ve clothing. I’ll shower soon and dress and have a car to drive to work. I’m thankful for my office and work.  There is an anxiety.
The landlady leased me an office without proper zoning and the City has said I have to stop practice. I’m sadly telling everyone I have to move, giving notice with the provincial beaurocracy saying I need to give three months notice but I’ve only had a week or two myself.  I’m literally unsettled. There is hostility and danger in the work. It’s always been dangerous.  I’m afraid often with the threats and bullying and belligerence and lies and demands increasingly unrealistic. There’s no support either or ambiguous support. The ‘authorities’ are no longer protective of anyone but a little elite.  It’s often terrifying to think how far out one’s own neck is with such cowardice and failure at the helm. Being on the front lines I see the rage and fear and know that those far removed are losing. They were surprised by the election. They were lucky they didn’t get a war. The desert spring is happening here.  I’m watching a revolution. And in the middle of it is this drug and welfare set.
Addiction and idolatry are at the centre.
The consumer engine has me.
I’m looking for a new truck which requires payment and maintenance and replaces the last one which has been unreliable in cold and is the wrong truck for the work I do.  I want a new one to pull my RV where I live right now in fear of cold. There’s an illusion that the apartment and house dwellers have about heat and water. My water pipes froze this year and my propane ran out once. I’ve that sense of being very close to the elements.  There are homeless who know what I know and more.  Survival skills.
I celebrate a friend’s 31 years of sobriety today. A small group will gather and listen to her tale. We’ll go for dinner and celebrate. It’s a good day. I was paid yesterday so will have money for my gas and dinner.   There’s money going in to cover what is going out, not the truck costs but the maintenance cost. I paid for the vacation in the fall but there’s been so many surprises, so many demands and if I miss an hour of work I don’t get paid. I have no ‘guaranteed income’. I have no certainty. I am what they call a ‘wage nigger’.  It’s not a government job. It's not a union job. We are always threatened by the government individually and collectively.  Then people cough on me and bring guns and knives into the waiting room, raise their voices and show me their fists.   The security is with my knowledge and skill but there are increasingly monopolies and lock outs and restrictions. I’d be glad to cut out lumps and bumps again having so enjoyed that aspect of general practice but there’s so many loops to jump through. I sometimes think I’d just like to do ‘assessment’s’ like I did in the hospital and asylum. Meeting the new frightened strangers and recording their life over and hour or two and suggesting what could benefit. Everyone is into this ‘consultation’ process. No one wants to do the work of actually seeing if the ideas change matters. I like ‘selling’ sobriety.  I like pushing participation and confronting non adherence or non compliance but the government won’t hold people accountable or responsible because frankly the government itself won’t be responsible or accountable.  So everyone looks for money without accountability. Daily I'm asked to rubber stamp people's bullshit and collude with sociopaths but when I refuse I am punished personally and financially.
I enjoyed watching the Accountant last night. I think I like shows like that because the bad guys get their dues. It's like sophisticated westerns.
I am thankful for hollywood, the actors and directors and the movies and the entertainment. I want to see the new Star wars.  I had a lovely meal last night and watched a movie with my beautiful friend Laura and my lovely dog.
If I would resist the jumping forward into the threats of the day of work. The unknowns.  I fear the threats and the constant criticism…no resources.  No time. demands and demands for more time and more results.  I saw a fellow who continues to drink but insists it’s my problem that he hans’t stopped drinking. I’m always being blamed. No matter how often I remind a person I can’t be blamed for their not taking a pill. Another person angry because they’re still angry but they’ve not taken the medication i recommended and the courts have not punished their victimizer.  That’s so often the case. There’s horrible injustice and we’re supposed to comfort the victims of the victimizers who are only angry that they are caught and go out again to do the same.  Bullies abound.
Yet I can remember New York where millions of people got along.  Mayor Guliani’s approach to his city has resulted in an amazing success yet here we are slipping.  I can think that.
But really I’m just aging.  A clean bill of health but perhaps I have ‘gun ear’.  Decreased hearing in my ear which comes from three sources, ‘shooting’ , rock and roll’, and medications for tuberculosis as a consequence of working in the north with the reserves, where no doctors could be found for years because of fear of tb and I went there and got tb supposedly.  X-rays are clear but a year of medication that hurts the body.  I sometimes think I’m the stupidest doctor in the class because I do the shittiest stuff which smart doctors wouldn’t do.  I am usually not alone though so there’s other stupid doctors like me and we’re fun to be around.  It’s ‘the others’ . the ee cummings ‘them guys’ position. We’re okay, you’re not.  We celebrate ourselves.
I’m thankful to have work. I’m so beaten down by the bureaucracy so repeativeily criticized by the self serving authorities who are so far removed from earth they live in a space station and yet I keep trying. I think of death more and more.
I have a whole lot of skills and surprise myself with what I know and remember how little I knew as a young doctor. Their ‘confidence’ or is it ‘ignorance’ astounds me.  I was taking to another old doctor and we were both amazed at the complex cases with old people and multiple diseases we just seem to know what to do with despite the fact that they’re not in journals or textbooks. We have accumulated this mass of experience and it’s all seems to pass so fast.
Rituals and incantations.
I think of going to Africa. I think of missionary medicine again.  Psychiatry is the most complex and I do addiction psychiatry but there are all these beurocrats and walls and barriers and the lies and the broken promises.  I have a boat and want to go out to sea again. Those 25 days alone at sea in the Pacific , in the doldrums and the storms, I am ready for that again but this time the Atlantic.  I’d like to sail away.  But I haven’t the ‘money’ I say. But I’ve done so much without resources. Even now they are taking away my office. Barriers and interference.
I once jumped on a plane and got a job overseas.  Maybe it would be fun to be a secretary again.
I really do want to have a new truck though. So I ‘ll keep going and be amused at the whole idea of the ‘truck’. My ex wife blew the head gasket in a coke rage on the truck and I was at my bottom riding a bicycle wondering how I’d put my trust in another. Today I am single. I talked about being single with a sponsor yesterday and how I’d ‘trusted’ finances in marriage twice and both times their greed and drug addiction and rapaciousness had caused me losses. Of course my actions were responsible.  But that goes to the failure of the ‘partnership’ in business in addition to 50% divorce rates. The weakness of business partnerships was the reason for the development of corporations. Maybe marriages should become marital corporations to reduce the loss.
The courts destroyed the marriage business with their politics, greed and favouritism. The State is in the business of ruining couples and marriages and families for profits.  I could be sad and grieve this past too. But perception looks at a ‘slice’ and my mind defines the ‘terms of reference’. I look at her cocaine addiction or her marijuana abuse and alcohol abuse and don’t say that I was there too …I drank and smoked marijuana.  I pride myself in not getting into the coke and that I didn’t like it and that I drew the line and had a psychiatrist I was consulting with about my use, this consultant monitoring and supporting and agreeing with my action whereas she and they lied and cheated and stole.  I can say this but what was I doing picking these people. They had huge histories of drug and alcohol and families that had died from drugs and alcohol and my parents had warned me and I didn’t listen to any of the warnings or care about the abortions. I was so head strong. I was convinced it was love.
I was an idiot, a saint or a fool and they were goddesses or saints. It's all a good back story. It's all an adventure. It's all in the telling. Tragedy or comedy as they say in the theatre..  I had to learn about the via negativa. This all brought me closer to God.  I am today further along the path and never thought to live this long.  I actually have a truck and want a better newer truck.  I remember the day I was riding the bicycle and realizing that she and my friends were all a lie. My life at the time was a lie.  I was clean and sober and was riding a bicycle and that bicycle saved my life.  That exercise 40 miles a day cycling restored my lungs I'd been hurt by smoking legal tobacco.   I am so thankful that I don’t smoke cigarettes or tobacco but there I was the bitch of the tobacco company and government killing myself with substances they supported all the while I thought I was cool.
Today is so much better than that. Today I have this great friend and dog and it just keeps going along. I really am thankful. I have to let go and forgive. I have to increasingly see the positive. I have to have greater faith and more trust in God.  There have been so many near death experiences.  I am blessed and protected and so very thankful.
Really. Thank you Jesus. Thank you God. Thank you. Thank you.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Justin Trudeau,Spirituality and Politics

After my Baptist Aunt Sally died I asked everyone who knew her,  “Did you ever hear Sarah say anything bad about anyone?”  Everyone reflected for a moment, looked puzzled and then replied, “No, come to think of it. I never did.”  As a Christian she truly believed that “if you have nothing good to say about a person, you should say nothing.”  I owe Justin Trudeau an amends. I’ve been bad mouthing him ever since he admitted to smoking dope when he was a teacher and when he was a member of parliament.  Even now I believe he is smoking dope by his behaviour.  Further his wasteful wanton spending of Canada’s money overseas scares me. Neither reason is sufficient cause for me to denigrate him. It would be sufficient to say I disagree with his policies.
 Yet, it is as if I can’t resist ‘ad hominem’.  I denigrate him, the man, believing he may be possessed by Satan or a drug addicted sociopath.  Neither is true.  They may be but I don’t know.  I just find everytime he speaks his voice literally is like nails on a chalkboard. It’s effete and whining and entitled to me.  But Christianity that makes him my angel.  In Christianity I am to love my enemy.  Spirituality I am at most to think of him as a sick person, not hating him for his error and disgusting behaviour but rather understanding it and forgiving it as one would a sick person.  At most he suffers a spiritual disease and it is my job not to return like for like but to love him.  I call him my angel because he teaches me the limits of my own spiritual growth and shows me how I might think I’m growing spiritually but put to the test of Justin Trudeau I’m a babe in arms.  Love your enemy.  Obviously he is my enemy and I believe he is the enemy of the Canadian people but that is the nature of politics.  Politics divides and looks at the world in paranoid terms, us and them.
It’s easy to be spiritual on a mountain, or meditating on an island. It’s the most difficult to be spiritual faced with politics.
When one is offensive oneself then it’s important to note this.  As a Christian I ask forgiveness of God for my fear and anger towards Justin Trudeau. His dope smoking has made my life as an addiction medicine doctor a nightmare.  When I try to get young people off marijuana because they are now doing oxycontin and heroins and cocaine and stopping everything results in the greatest success, they say, the Prime Minister smokes marijuana and so do all the Hollywood actors actress and the rock stars.  And I say, it’s not okay for you. You nearly died of an overdose last night. You’re only 20 years old. I don’t want to see you die.  I don’t want to see you die. There are tears in my eyes these days.  There are so many deaths.  The examples we set have lead to this. I once did drugs and I tell people it was wrong. I was breaking the law and I shouldn’t have broken the law for something so childish and ultimately dangerous.  I have made amends for my error and continue to pay immensely for my wrong.  I heard of two more deaths of people I knew yesterday.  They were so young.
When I hear of Canada’s inflation and see how little I can buy with the money I have, I am afraid.  Yet, anxiety is a measure of my distance from God. If I truly have faith I will put my trust in God not in money or banks or pensions.  Yet, I see Justin Trudeau squandering the hard earned Canadian money overseas, giving it to corrupt tyrannies where all the knowledge I have tells me so very little of the money will help people. It will only make deceitful treacherous corrupt people richer and give them more power to betray and enslave their people.  Canadians frustrate me because they are reasonably upset that the Charboneau enquiry finds that Quebec’s government is run by biker gangs and mafia with millions of dollars going to corrupt French Canadian politicians. Yet they don’t seem to grasp that there are not even Charboneau enquiries in the countries where Justin Trudeau is giving away billions of Canadian dollars.
But my fear for my own aging future causes me to hate this little shit. I call the poor man that. A little turd and then ask.  Did Jesus call even Herod a little turd.  No even though Jesus threw the money lenders out of the temple asked about money he said, “give unto Cesar, cesar’s due’. He said that a bird doesn’t worry about whether God will love it so doesn’t God care for his children at least as much as he does for a bird.  So the problem isn’t Justin Trudeau but rather it’s with me.  Again Justin Trudeau is my angel because he teaches me how little faith I have and how much more prayer and meditation I must do to become spiritually “fit’.
Some of my Christian friends have their own politicians that they struggle with , Donald Trump, Merkel, Obama, Clinton.  That is for them to face.
I must remember my aunt.  I must hold my head high in politics and not descend into the scrapping and mudslinging that goes on in that realm.  I can retreat to the mountain. But the Dalai Lama saw his people killed as a child. The Chinese invaded Tibet and slaughtered all the holy men and women, mowing them down with machine guns in an act of genocide that continues today.  I visitted Cappadocia to see how Christians had built underground cities and churches to escape to when the Islamic hoards invaded their land killing all the Christians there.  We hear of the Palestinian and Israel but the  Muslim massacre of the Armenian Christians is never talked about because political correctness is the language of lying and selection.  The whole of the middeeast once a land of churches and Christians in the hundreds of thousands were decimated and slaughter by the Muslim invasion just as the HIndus and Sikhs were slaughtered in Indian.  Just as aboriginals were slaughtered in Australia, America and Canada.  The question is when do we ‘start history’, when do we set the ‘terms of reference’.  In Ireland the Normans conquered the Celts. These displacements have gone on through history but today we don’t really seem to have somewhere to escape too.
There is talk that the elite have built colony world’s in space.  There are all kinds of conspiracy theories many of which have proved true.  But I visitted the Monasteries of Meterora where the Christians fled to escape the pillaging barbarians who raped the women and slaughter the men and took the Christian children into slavery.  There is no high place where we can hide. The Tibetans are still being killed by the Communist chinese and the Christians all over the world are being persecuted.
CS Lewis and Churchill encouraged the Christians to fight back.  Even Jesus limitted the abuse a Christian must take to 70 times 70.  I feel I personally have turned my cheek that much at least by now.  Yet the issue is not defending oneself. Because we are taught, love thy neighbour as thyself.  So if an enemy who is childish and sick and ignorant by definition were to attempt to kill me I must not let him because my own death would not be loving myself and making him a murderer would not be loving him. So I am spiritually and as a Christian beholden to protect myself and my neighbour from violence and homicide. Life is sacred to Christians.  That’s why we disagree with the Aboritonists and the Euthanasia gangs.  That’s why I found Hillary Clinton so wrong.  I find Justin Trudeau’s death policies wrong as well.
As I Christian I believe in life and believe that there is a morality, actions that promote life and actions that promote death. Even Freud described these drivers as Eros, life drive and Thanatos, death drive.  The idea of light and dark, good and evil is embedded in the Torah and ancient history, to the best of my knowledge , in all religions and all people.  The idea of social relativism is an intellectual construct which doesn’t have any history to speak of and much destruction to it’s name.
The issue lies not with my enemy but rather with my action and my fear.  Spirituality I am behaving badly. I admit that watching my brother struggling with cancer and eventually dying shook me to the core because he was such a good man who gave his life for his family and served his country.  I prayed that God would take me in his stead because really I’m not a particularly good man. He was a steady Eddy. I’m kind of a spiritual fool. I’ve been a doubting Thomas. I learn mostly by mistakes and I whine and complain and fear and hate.  My brother by comparison was a rock.  He cared for his family and loved fully.
I have been overwhelmed. I’m still grieving. And when one is hurt they tend to revert to earlier mechanisms of coping. I have coped with Justin Trudeau much like an adolescent. I think I’ve come down to the political level. I watched Justin Trudeau with his attack campaign against Mr. Harper who I knew is a good man, one who doesnt do drugs , who loves and supports his family , is a stead Eddy, a man much like my brother.  A good man, a Christian. Justin Trudeau by contrast is much like me. An evil twin or what I was like when I was smoking dope and arrogant and so easily deceived by exotic psychopaths with such silly ideas about finances and economy and believing that the ‘grand ideas’ were so important.  I know today that the ‘devil is in the details’ and I’ve read with enlightenment Paul Johnson’s enlightening book called the “intellectuals’.  The proof is in the pudding.
Well, my spiritual plan is to make amends and clean up my side of the street. I will henceforth try to emulate my aunt and say less hateful things about Justin Trudeau and consider him a sick child who needs love and nurturing.  I will do my best to avoid being hurt by him. I certainly disagree with his policies.  But I will instead look and support those who are doing good.  I like Kelly Leitch’s appreciation of values and can say good things about her rather than disparaging Trudeau. I don’t need to put down a bad restaurant as much as I need to praise a good restaurant.  Just because I got diarrhea eating at the Trudeau cafe doesn’t mean I have to focus on that but instead should celebrate the marvellous dinner I got at the Conservative restaurant.  I must be more like my aunt.
Thank you Justin Trudeau for teaching me to be a better man.  Please Lord forgive me and help me to be a better man. Help me to focus on those who are doing good and celebrate their contributions.  Help me to keep my eyes on the light and be more steady in my path.  Thank you for all your Grace.  Thank you Lord Jesus for your sacrifice.  Thank you for the Cross. Guide me in being a better person.

Monday, January 9, 2017

Gratitude , Vancouver 2017

Thank you Lord for heat. Especially thank you for electric blankets and electric heater fans. Thank you for propane heat too. Thank you for the heat of a little dogs body lying next to yours in the chilly northern night.
Thank you for the hot coffee. Thank you for the cream and honey. Thank you for the porridge and yoghurt.  Thank you for clothing and showers and shaving utensils .Thank you for the little things I take for granted.
Thank you for this day. Thank you for my relationship with a higher power and sobriety. Thank you for this new year.
Thank you that my ‘cold’ isn’t worse.  Thank you for work and routine and ways to be of service. Thank you for this body.
Thank you for the computer and keyboard. Thank you for a place to record, the memories, the mind, the neurological connections, the learning, the whole 'gone before' stuff.
Thank you for writing. Thank you for blogging. Thank you for poetry. Thank you for my old love of journalism. Will I get back to writing stories? Will I write the novel? Thank you for the Canadian Authors Association. Thank you for BlueWater Cruising Association. Thank you for the Baptist Church, the Pentecostal Church, the United Church, the Catholic Church, the Orthodox Church, the Community church. Thank you for all the pastors and holy teaching that I have been so blessed to be apart of .
Thank you for the Canadian Society of Addiction Medicine, the Canadian Medical Association and the BCMA and the Royal Canadian Society of specialists.
Thank you for science. Thank you for neurochemistry. Thank you for anatomy and physiology and all that I have learned.
Thank you for friends. Thank you for family.Especially thank you for this little dog Gilbert.
Thank you for vehicles . Thank you for my Miata.  It’s been such a happy little car.  Thank you for my Harley and please bring the weather that will enable me to ride it. Thank you for Charles. Thank you for the SV Girl.
Thank you for everything Lord. Help me to see you in all of creation. Help me to see you in the light and the dark. Guide me today in what it is that I would do to most serve you. Help me to know the way Lord.  Help me to be  better  in all my endeavours.
Thy will be done. Not my will.
Protect me Lord from Lies and False Allegations, from the dangerously insane.  I know that is my work but really Lord I am so tired of the attacks from all over. I am like a medic in a war and please Lord let me treat the wounded and not be forever watching out for snipers and bombs and rabid dogs.  Help me to be a better doctor. Help me to be more honest and true. Help me to be discerning. Help me to be loving of my fellow man and woman and more patient and kind.  Guide me Lord.  Protect me.
Help me Lord. I am so afraid at times . I am in so much pain at times.  I am thankful for your solace and sustenance.  Help me Lord to see you in all and to have greater faith and trust.
Thank you for this day Lord.  Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on me.  Holy Spirit come.

Saturday, January 7, 2017

Returning to Vancouver from New York City

Laura and I returned home from New York at 3 am this week.  First we were very thankful that we got to JFK on time. Redbury Hotel staff were very helpful and the taxi driver was a delightful Punjab young man who discussed spirituality and humour the whole ride with us.
Next we were thankful to get through security without trouble.  In the past it’s been a  major kerfuffle when they've found Laura or I carrying guns, ammunition, or hunting knives in our baggage. Laura really likes having her own luggage now and resists borrowing any of mine. .
I was thankful to have my aisle seat. I do like to stretch my long legs. Having been in a plane crass I always feel less claustrophobic. Older I like to pee and remember this young woman on a flight back from London saying to me, “Do you have to go again. You just peed.”  I had got up twice in an 8 hour flight and did not kill her outright because she was young, stupid, ugly,  and unlikely to be good eating.
I was thankful too to have our luggage overhead and the Philippine Airline Staff so helpful and pleasant and solicitous.  It was really gratifying when the plane took off so well and we didn’t have to Scully in the Hudson River. I really just wanted to have an uneventful flight.  They even served us a lovely meal.  Philippine Airlines is truly delightful to fly with.
I slept some. Watched a couple of television episodes. Took a couple of trips to the loo.  5 hours passed before we knew it.  I was then thankful that the unloading went quickly and smoothly and that customs didn’t delay us.  The best part  was getting our luggage off the carousel. It arrived in tact.  I am just really thankful when I see my luggage and feel the relief that comes with that.
Vancouver from the taxi looked great. It was all still there.Ugly with snow and ice but known.  When I’ve been in  the strange I feel really good coming home to the known.
I actually got a few hours of sleep before finding enough clean clothes to go out to work.  I loved driving in my little Miata.  It’s just such a friendly little car.  Then I was at work and all the people there were great to see. I really am blessed to work with some of the finest doctors and staff around.  It’s comforting and reassuring.  I liked seeing my patients and getting back into the routine.
I was thankful then to see my home was still there. No terrorists bombs, fires or floods had taken it away.  There was heat.  The water lines weren’t frozen.  I changed the propane tank and turned up the heat  to make the place cozy and warm.  It hadn’t been burglarized.  It was still untidy and disorganized and desperately in need of a cleaning lady. I blame Gilbert but his contribution is only to the toy and ball strewn floor.
Then Kaloo Kalay I drove over to pick up Gilbert from Mida.  Mida Hannah and Hannah’s brother,  the whole family and his dog girlfriend Hacchi had cared for Gilbert while we were away.  Gilbert was excited to see me as usual.  He’s a bit shocked for a moment and then goes nuts.  Lots of barking and running about in circles.  Lovely to see Mida. Just great to be reunited with Gilbert.
In the car ride home he was licking my ears and snuggling. A real suck. At home I was throwing ball and he was fetching. Then he was lying on top of me whenever I tried to read. He slept the night with his little body pressed up against mine.
I was thankful too for the electric blanket. I turned the heat down. The electric blanket is a god send.  It really was cold outside. I
I was thankful for sleep. While I loved the Redbury Hotel and the modern shiny bathroom it really was great to be home with my own toilet and sink and shower.  It’s comforting. I especially loved making my own stove top expresso coffee and sitting on my own couch and relaxing before getting ready for work.
I’ve said a whole lot of prayers and meditated a bit too.  It really was a blessing to go to New York. It was a wonderful vacation and a thorough joy to see the amazing creativity of my fellow man and woman in the shows and museums and galleries. I still can’t get over telling people how millions of people from every race and culture interacted together with respect and civility. We were wall to wall in bodies but no one was having road rage or being obnoxious. It was wonderful.  Some of it was the Christmas season. People were collectively thinking of the baby Jesus. But even in the Pagan New Year’s celebration there was no attacking of women en mass like they did in Cologne. The New York police were the very best in the world.  New York is an amazing city.
I really am thankful to be back in Vancouver. Despite the perfection of the shows in New York I really can say I love the Symphony, Opera, Early Music, theatre and our Art Gallery really does have excellent visitting works. We have shows like U2 that come here. There’s culture and art and It really is world class.  There’s a profound ‘excellence’ that one encounters in New York, an A+ team of the best of the best on Broadway but we get glimpses of that here and overall aren’t deprived.
I remember a story my friend ,who was Canada’s leading ballet dancer, told me 40 years ago.  “I was standing in a Broadway audition line feeling pretty sure of myself as the foremost dancer of Canada until I asked the guy ahead of me, what he did. He told me he was the lead dancer for the Russian Ballet and the guy behind me was the lead dancer for Germany.  It turned out everyone of the hundred people in that line were the leads from their countries. Frankly I didn’t feel too badly I didn’t get the job. Getting the audition was a pretty big thing..”
CATS in New York will forever be the most ‘perfect’ production I have ever seen.  The dance and song and acting were simply incredible.
I loved the architecture of New York.  I loved the churches of New York: Trinity, St.Paul’s, St. Patrick’s and Riverside I loved the galleries and museums:  the MET, the Neue, the Guggenheim, MoMA,  The Museum of Sex was fun as well.  I loved being able to go into the historic and beautiful Trump tower.  I loved standing again on top of the Empire State Building.  I loved the Ferry Ride to Staten Island and the Statue of Liberty. It was moving to  visit the 9-11 memorial. I loved walking around New York, 5th Avenue,Park, and Madison, Central Park, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, Bowery, Midtown.  I loved our Redbury Hotel and the local Bread and Butter,nearby MacDonald’s and the Churchill.  I am so thankful the weather was so good. I’m thankful for the taxi and subways.   I am so thankful for sobriety,spirituality and service.
I am very thankful to have such a beautiful, exciting, caring companion in Laura as well. Her joy and enthusiasm and good spirit made everything so much richer.
There was one thing I haven’t seen in Vancouver that I appreciated in New York, and London and Dublin before. It’s ‘big theatre’.  I love the excellence of little Pacific Theatre but was thoroughly moved by Chekhov’s Present with Cate Blanchet. Part of the charm was the number of characters,all of who were great and I realized I’ve not seen such a memorable play here. The other thing that really moved me was the Lincoln Centre. What a truly outrageously perfect opera and symphony centre.  I expect Vancouver would do well to consider an arts and cultural centre because we truly have the talent.  Enough with the bike lanes!
Yes, I’m thankful to be back.  I was really thankful to see my friend George. It was great to see Dave. I love known faces and the reassurance that comes with realizing after such novelty of vacation, that here I have friends.   I liked talking with my nephews and loved getting another  wonderful warm sweater from my sister in law Adell. I’ve been feeling truly cherished every time I wear Anna’s hand made scarf and realize how much love I’ve been blessed to know.  It’s a good life.  Getting thousands of miles away and returning really does wonders for gratitude.
No doubt bureaucrats and wankers will begin again to suck the very life out of me, people will threaten my life and my dog, liars will tell lies, takers will take,  but at least for a day or two I really  can feel relaxed and  alive again.  Today I  am truly grateful for this life.  I think some of the relief too is getting through the ‘holiday season’ when the drunkeness and drug abuse in Vancouver maxes out.  I’ll never forget Laura saying how much she enjoyed New York because there wasn’t marijuana smoke everywhere.  I loved the smell of fine perfumes and colognes walking through the crowds and sitting on the subway.
Now I’m thankful for this Saturday and the sunny blue sky day.  My truck engine wouldn’t turn over. I have to  jump the battery.  That means I have to get off this couch.   Maybe I'll make another coffee before showering and shaving. But really, isn’t God great.
Thank you Jesus for all your blessings!  Thank you Thank you Thank you.

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