Friday, February 21, 2020

Valentine’s Day Harrison Hotsprings Resort

Laura and I had a great time at Harrison Hotsprings Resort.  Gilbert loved it as usual.  Laura was the best looking girl there  I told her after our first night there that she was too young for me. I was going to have to date older women. The hotsprings was essential but they really need an in house  chiropracter. I retrospect I could have booked a massage. It really was a fun time for an old guy.
I walked Gilbert around the lake in the morning picking up coffee and our breakfast sandwiches from Suzy’s Cafe.  
We so enjoyed returning to the the hotsprings each day. . So many young people in love and a few of us good looking  older  folk.  Gilbert loved the walks around the lake. The geese and ducks were returning. I played  with the Go Pro and IPhone Pro 11 cameras.    We loved room service. The pepper corn steak was superb.
We watched Parasites and truly loved it, a Korean movies subtitled about a con artist family that moved in on an architect and his wife encountering another con artist couple competing over the same family. Incredible plot and great acting. The next night we watched 1917 and also loved it. Superb stark cinematography. Moving true story.  A splendid weekend.  Typical of Harrison’s .  The Harrison Resort is the best, so elegant and such great service and dog friendly. Before Gilbert we used to love dining and dancing at the Copper Room. 
I’ve been going to Harrison’s every year for decades. I’ve camped in the campgrounds or along the lake. We stayed in many of the hotels and cabins. Last year we came up with the camper. Then we use the public hot springs pool. The resort is the most elegant.  Special. 
Harrison Hotsprings, Harrison Lake and the environs is just a never ending wonderland so close to Vancouver but another world away.
Valentines’ with Laura and Gilbert was the best.  Thank you Harrison Hotsprings Resort.  









































Thursday, February 13, 2020

Gratitude Thursday on a February Morning

Thank you Lord God of Creation, my higher power, the essence of being, the friend I talk to and feel I am heard by. Thank you for prayer and meditation. Give me the strength and sustenance and focus to do my time with you more often and more lovingly.  I’m quite bad at the soul gymnasium thing. I make the time for communion much as I shower and shave. I’m tired too often and self absorbed and egotistical. Thank you for your love and toleralance.
Thank you for my family, as odd and peculiar as they are, remarkable and unique, and my friends who are quite beyond me. They are truly extraordinary and I’m blessed to know them. Thank you for my meeting last night and the opportunity to see the souls who had hidden from themselves and others in the cloak of darkness of addiction and fear. Thank you that there was enough love and hope that they poked their heads out of the abyss and hell to see if the sun was shining. Thank you for the laughter and support of countless men and the reminder of community and village and care and soulfulness. Thank you for the opportunity to watch the fog lifting and the numbness of lost experience departing from another wounded and trapped soul seeking freedom. Thank you for those who were there for me when I too was so beat up by psychopaths and life and stupidity.  

Thank you for innocence and experience.  May the journey be safer and less raw but thank you too for the adrenaline and the rush. Thank you for the wind in the sails and the wind in my hair. Thank you for  motorcycles, boats,  trucks and cars and bicycles. Thank you for movement. Thank you for my legs and my complaining knees and woeful back and distracting shoulders and my self absorbed neck. Thank you for the knuckles on my hands that scream and cry out like life is torture when it’s really just a lark.  Thank you for the blossomoning of flowers and the morning light. Thank you for the stars and moon.  Thank you for the sun.

Thank you for all the blessings. Thank you for today. Thank you for Gilbert. Thank you for creation and the relationship of us in his multidimensional reality that gave us Jesus and the Kardasians. Thank you for Dr. Houston and his newest book. I so look forward to reading his ‘Worldly Christian’. What an amazing optimistic man and what a great follower of Christ.  I am truly blessed to know such inspirational loving people despite my own worm like existence and love of mud.

Thank you for the dance and music. Thank you for the mystery. Thank you for all your blessings, for grace and spirituality.  

Thank you Lord Jesus.  










Saturday, February 8, 2020

Saturday Morning in February

I am grateful. I’ve walked Gilbert along the Brunette River.  It’s not raining.  There’s even blue sky and some sunshine breaking through the clouds. I’ve stretched on the fences along the path.  The water is down from the days of the torrential rains. I’d never seen the river so high as last week. Laura says all the crocuses and snow drops and tulips are appearing in the West End. I’m in Burnaby and they were just appearing before another dump of snow.  Now the snow is gone. I’m thinking of riding my motorcycle. As kids we’d just go for rides on our bicycles.  It was fun to explore the parks.  The motorcycle rides in the city aren’t as pleasant.  I’d have to go out to the country to get that feeling of relaxation. Winding roads and little traffic.
President Trump was acquitted this week. It’s been years of the Democrats not getting beyond the election, constantly playing legal and bureaucratic games to restore themselves to power.  I see it as free world and capitalism versus communism.  There are no communists or people wanting sharia law in America in the Republican Party. Bernie, though is a card carrying communist and at least 4 democrats are in favour of the Muslim Brotherhood, the international terrorist group. Trudeau and his family are communists.  Fidel Castro and China. I struggle with the notion of ‘One World Order’.  The central government in theory sounds good but historically they’ve been like the Tower of Babel.  Corruption and control.  
Brexit has finally happened. Another good thing. The EU was increasingly satanic. 
The UN politically is lost with their muslim anti Israel block voting.  Such despicable lies. Now the whole history of WWII is being rewritten by the Sharia Communists.  
I feel old.  I only worried about war as a youth. Give Peace a Chance.  Love.  I stood in the middle.  War for defence but not for offence.  I had no difficulty with the British Empire. In an age of empires it was certainly superior to the Dutch, French and Turkish.
As Aryan Celts we could argue the same way the blacks do and demand compensation for the Arab, Black and Chinese and Slavic invasions.  Our people reigned from Indian, through Persia to Russia and Ireland. The Kurds are Indo European people. We were the blue eye blond aryans and the black haired light dark skinned aryans.  Invasions and conquering went on throughout history until this bizarre retrospective legal ‘compensation’ business and the idea of selected ‘terms of reference’.  We can talk about the Civil War but we can’t talk about Culloden or more importantly Vienna.  The Irish Potato famine. The Soviet massacre of the Ukraine. The Turkish genocide of the Armenians. The Pol Pot genocide of Cambodia. The Chinese invasion and barbaric destruction of the Buddhists of Tibet.
I’m weary of the selected narratives of the media.  That’s One World Order.  The media with it’s very limited ‘choice’ of stories’.  The funny Reuter displays of a hundred media personnel parrotting the same story in the same way.  Propaganda.  
Meanwhile I’ve continued to seek God.  Each day I begin with prayer and meditation asking to know God’s will and to have the power to carry it out. I allign my breathing and being with the OM, One Mind.  I am the bubble make me the sea.  I’m seeking the inner reality of Jung’s Collective Unconscious. I’m repeating the name of Jesus, what a beautiful name it is.  It means God within and Christ means God will come again. Ive taken to repeating the part in the St. Patrick Breastplate prayer , Christ in front of me, Christ behind me, Christ to the right of me, Christ to the left of me, Christ above me, Christ below me, Christ within me, Christ in the words and thoughts of everyone I meet today and Christ in my words and thoughts. I’ve asked daily to be a better God to be a Channel for Christ as in the St. Francis prayer, make me a channel for your peace.  I’ve tried to impart whatever knowledge and care I can to comfort and help those people who come to me. I feel oddly like I’m on the bench waiting for God to play me. I’m past the age of retirement but have no desire to do anything else immediately. I love the people I work with. They really are stirling  characters and overall I feel like I am contributing. It’s important work not like I’ve done in the past. At times in my career I’ve felt very strongly drawn and driven but now I’m kind of coasting.  The College of Physicians and Surgeons Assistant Registrar said ,”It’s just a job”.  I was told not to be a doctor but to act like a doctor. I’m encouraged to be a ‘drug pusher for the multinationals’.  I used to believe my role as physician and psychiatrist was to help people be the best they could be but mostly people just want me to sign their papers so they can get money or get out of work. Fewer and fewer want me to treat even their symptons .There’s so much secondary gain and the whole industry has shifted sideways. Doctors are no longer professionals in the Osler sense but defined as ‘health care workers.”  One of the beurocrats hired by the Minister of Health told me medicine was a ‘consumer product and that I was just there to assist in their consumption. Another told me it’s all ‘just entertainment’ and that I should be entertaining.  I struggle with paying taxes because billions of Canada’s money is now going to promote abortion and euthanasia.  I preferred when we just killed as Canadians in the old politically incorrect ways of war.  This politically correct killing of the helpless and defenceless is disheartening.
I have days when I’m so overwhelmed with doubt i just want to die.
The masculine in me fought the killing.  I look back on a life of fighting the corruption and unethical and immoral abuses mostly of government.  Bad men and bad women in government. The hijacking of the good apparatusof law and order by communists and killers. Now we have Sharia and 15th century Muslim military religion coupling with western legal institutions. I see invasion and parasitolgy. There seems no symmetry.  Such aggressive threatening jihadism and arrogance. ISIS is pure.  But that’s all just the propaganda.
 On an individual basis I’m delighted with my Persian Zorastrians friends and Muslims who are akin to the Chstmas and Easter Christians. I’ve all these moderate friends and colleagues and we huddle in the midst of raving lunatics all promoted and protected by government apparently intent on reviving either the Brown Shirts or the Bolsheviks or the Jihadists.
I think of sex changes as a way to get out of the front lines. I’d like to sit by a campfire and worry about marshmallows. I’d rather be raped again than be shot at again or to face the Burocratic Borg of the Corrupt Establishment with their unholy alliances and authoritarian stupidity. I think without testosterone I’d not frighten these castrated government leaders in medicine.
 I think in a skirt I’d not be attacked.  Sadly transgenders are most attacked. The world is simply not a safe place. Better to trust in Jesus.
I like skirts. I’ve just ordered another kilt. It’s healthy not to have your balls bound in tight pants.  I liked the David Bowie big baggy pants I used to wear.  I should get back to dance. When I was in the world of dance I was far from the life and death of fentanyl and AIDS. Now there’s a new virus.  I am of an age where in so many societies and throughout the ages I was considered a survivor and wise but here today I’m mocked with ‘shut up, boomer’.  Women constantly  tell me that since I haven’t a womb I should shut up. All the diversity cult tell me to die. I ate Chinese take out last night and thought of my brother. We sat and ate and talked in Yan’s.
I dream of getting on my boat and heading out to sea. The world was no better with me gone for 25 days alone at sea.  I’d gladly be back on my boat in the ocean breezes following the tropical winds.  But it’s all hard work. What I really like doing is lying on the couch with my nearby refridgerator and the Ethiopian coffee and the netflix tv and this ipad and keyboard. T camper is calling to me.  Thank you God and Brother Lawrence for this time and place, Thank you for every time you help me get my head in the same room as my ass. Be here now. Hallelujah.
I ask God what I am to do. Ill muddle along. There’s no burning bush.  Gilbert’s licking his privates. Laura is coming later. I got us Carmen Tickets. Tomorrow we’ll go to church. I don’t know they’ll have an answer. I love that the kids are having children and raising little humans.  I love the living.










Monday, February 3, 2020

Locus of Control

Locus of Control is a central concept of clinical psychiatry.  Developmentally a child moves from a magical sense of omnipotence where needs are received from a magical mommy being to increasing separation and frustration with the universe not being as understanding.  Ultimately with old age an individual gains humility and acceptance and realizes how little ‘control’ they have in a multibillion competing universe.  Anna Freud, the daughter of Sigmond, worked as a child psychiatrist and enveloped these ‘lines of development’ eg Narcissism to Altruism.  Jung described the “hero’s jouney’ which Joseph Campbell showed was a cross cultural normative process.

The recovery process shares these features.  An individual begins able to ‘control’ their addiction. Indeed for many the relationship doesn’t even involve a consideration of control and when the issue of ‘control’ arises they are too often deep in the rabbit hole already.    The relationship with the ‘false god’, or ‘substance’ is at first occasional. Eventually the person feels ‘controled’ by the substance and is increasingly unable to say ‘no’.   As Tom Waits so aptly said before he sought help for his addiction ,  he didn’t know who was writing the songs.

Locus of control describes the sense of autonomy and freedom a person feels and their sense of being an individual with choice.  Politically the historic Tory, conservative or even classical liberal position was that the individual rather than the government or external circumstances needed to change.  The original AA movement adopted the Christian Serenity Prayer, God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.  In the studies of change dynamics it was recognized that the individual must have a sense of control and decision making and ‘want’ to change.  Until then they ‘blamed’ the substance and external circumstances for their condition.  In marriage therapy as long as a person ‘blames’ the other then they themselves don’t need to change.  In the spiritual path the loving God is seen as always there but that the individual has turned away.  

Addiction is seen as alienation.  C.S. Lewis the great Christian theologian used to quip, ‘stop looking for the architect in the wall.  We say addiction and alcoholism are looking for love in all the wrong places.

As long as the problem is someone else’s as in the Hitchhiker’s Guide Acronym “SEP” (Somebody Else’s Problem) I didn’t have to do anything about it. Character is a conservative consideration.  We change our focus from food to well being to address our food addiction, that which was called gluttony in ancient days.  However if I consider the problem to be the government’s or Hollywood advertising , things I have the least control over, I don’t have to address my own individual problem. The so called  ‘Progressive movement’ today , a rather mundane historic retread, sees everything in terms of the collective whereas William James, father of American pragmatism, saw the world through the lense of the power of individual to change.  Collectivism, most known as ‘communism’ or it’s lesser variant ‘socialism’ sees the problems as ‘collective rather than individual’.  

In medicine we accept there are public health and individual health considerations. Both need to be addressed but initially the individual clinically must accept their need to change, whether it be an attitude or a behaviour before they can heal.

That’s the essence of ‘locus of control’.  At the mental health fulcrum the schizophrenic or paranoid feels the problem is you and you alone. Martin Buber say them as having an I and It understanding of the world rather than an I and You or I and Thou.  The locus of control is with the ‘it’ or the ‘feared object’.  

This is seen individually and politically.  Nitze promoted the individual as ‘superman’ . He marketed his ideas to the elite.  Marx claimed that ‘religion was the opiate of the masses’ yet religion said that the individual had the power of God within and has always been the most potent revolutionary force for change in history.  

Jung described the ‘collective unconscious’ and the individuals means of tapping into the ‘flow’ or what he called ‘synchronicity.  There is a sense of ‘Thy will’ as opposed to ‘my will’ a safer mainstream high way of tradition and custom which has been found through out the ages by trial and error in the same way as what is safe to eat has been learned.  The Conservative argues that we shouldn’t throw the baby out with the bath water and that one should keep an open mind but no so open as to let all one’s marble’s fall out.  Spiritually one seeks to align one’s own feelings with this greater source of feelings. The word yoga was to yolk the self with the greater self.  ‘God’s will, not my will’ described the obedience which underlay the most creative. Discipline and freedom are faces of the same coin. People often want license but claim they want freedom.  In revolution everyone acts with ‘license’ , the last of accountability which results in pillage rape and crime.  What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.  Change dynamics suggest that war is a consequence of so many people rejecting the idea of discipline and wanting the Bachanalian night, the return to the primitive self.  It has been described as the ‘unleashing of the dogs of war’.  

The Beatles song , “We don’t want a revolution’ followed their observation that tyranny followed tyranny but that growth and development progressed most in peace.  

In spiritual practice , the wise man attempts to change his behaviour, leading by example, giving up alcohol for a year or five before demanding the world stop selling alcohol.  Today the adolescent movements manipulated by corporations are marketting their various consumer products to the most mental impaired and youngest while hypocritically doing the opposite themselves of the very campaign they are promoting for others for their own profit. The world has always been divided into those who lead from behind or lead from in front.  There are the ‘front line’ worker and the workers so far distant from the reality.  The Monday morning quarterbacks and the people who actually have a dog in the race.

Locus of control is central to all of these situations and fundamental cornerstone of what is called ‘cooperative behaviour’.  Unfortunately “Prisoner’s Dilemna’ studies find that ‘cooperative behaivour’ does not come ‘naturally’ and politically it is most often achieved by coercision.  

Where that line’ 

Sunday, February 2, 2020

Meeting baby Will

A lovely day meeting Anna and Kevin’s new baby, William James. He’s just perfect and truly adorable.
Anna, Kevin, Will, and their other children were at the Church of Ascension the traditional family centered Anglican Church in Langley.
Anna and Kevin asked Laura and I to be Will’s godparents so we attended baptism preparation with a fine young man whose daughter, Maija is to be baptized too. The mother and daughter hadn’t made it because of a nasty cold but the father was there representing his family. Kevin and Anna love the clergy who were definitely Godly and loved the Bible and The Christian communion. 
We all learned lots but it just good to hear each other share what baptism and joining  the family of Christ meant for us. 
After, our little group of half adults and half kids moved on to feast at the nearby Whitespot. Burgers and fish and chips. Discussions of God, spirituality, hunting, fishing, movies, photography and childbirth. We talked about it all, from breaking waters  to Trudeau’s latest embarrassment.
It was an honour to hold sleeping William while Kendra , Izek and Alex played,  ate and talked about the new microscope.
































Laura and I came home to walk our fur baby Gilbert.

Saturday, February 1, 2020

Holy Spirit Come

‘God calling,’ he said, ‘That’s what prayer is.’

Sometimes I feel so intimate with God its like talking to myself. Sometimes it’s like I’m so deep in the forest that I’m just calling.  I don’t feel alone when I speak his name.  Jesus.

I know others call God with different names. Yahweh. Elohim.  Christ. Master. Friend. My Lord. My sweet lord. Lover. 

God calling. 

Holy Spirit come

I know God is here and I’m the one circling. Better to say Human Come.  It’s like sighting in a rifle or a bow. The word sin means to miss the mark. I’m usually just trying to get into the day.  Get into the moment. 

Meditation,  when I’m just trying to focus on my breathing and my mind is dancing about doing anything but going where I say.  They called it monkey mind.Some called it ego.

Self is the term for that which is in touch with God. The nieu was a term of the mystical medieval days , the place of the heart where the heart of man met the heart of God.  The language was clear then differentiating sentimentalism from intuition.  This synchronistic place of being in the flow.  Rocketed to the 4th dimension, the old Jungian term of feeling no longer separate and apart, but together and ‘at - one’.  Atonement.  

I begin this day in prayer. I pray for your presence and protection. I’m afraid these days. Afraid mostly of the government , this corrupt Borg like presence. The Modor.  But really it’s mostly intellectual.  A fear state from Facebook and Internet news. Constant punishment of increasing taxes on the hard working and honest while criminals prosper. White collar crime. blue collar crime. Public and private sector crime. My hard fought for and barely won dollars taken by a corrupt government and given to dictatorships and corrupt countries with the claim of helping the people. Ludicrous. Disgusting journalism protecting government malefaction. Billions ‘lost’ overseas and I’m struggling with 40% taxes and another 20% taxes on taxes. Paying for terrorists, euthanasia, and the big money abortion industry. 

I have to let it go. I feel how people in communist, fascist and dictatorship countries feel knowing I’m partially complicit with with deeply evil, corrupt and decadent leadership of the country. Yet the government workers, beaurcrats and local city and provincial governments are doing okay. I really have yet to learn to look on the bright side. Remember the Monty Python song:)

Here my dog is resting peacefully waiting for the walk of the morning. We’ve played. Down on my knees in his space, butting heads rolling about. He gets me to scratching his back and give belly rubs.  That’s okay. Life is good.  When the dogs asleep.  Napping dogs mean safety.  He barks at the door when he’s afraid.  He looks confused when he hears or smells a strangeness.

I’m okay.  No critical aches and pain. I look the vehicle over and kick the tires. I’m thankful for the human and this spirit both relaxed today. I’m thankful for the propane and running water and heat. I’m thankful for the light.  I guess my next activity will be to shave and put on outdoor clothes.

It’s Saturday.  Saturday’s are truly blessings.  I dream of camping. This is good. The winter receding. The spring flowers appearing.  The rain has stopped. I’d better get ready and take this reprieve as a time to walk the little fellow. My body needs the exercise.  Exercise is still untaxed and not fattening. It’s really good for me.  Time to go outside.  Getting outside is good too. Doing good is good.  I aim for that each day.

Doing Good. The target. I feel I’m more on the bench watching the game. I’m not courageous. I don’t like to suffer.  I want to be cared for and coddled .  I fear no one will do for me what I’ve done for all. But if a dog doesn’t wag his tail no one will do it for him.  I’m needing exercise.  I’d like to win the Lottery but rarely buy tickets. I’ve done pretty well. Ive had so many blessings. This day is grace.  Time to get out.  

Go outside and play, Billy!  I remember my mother telling me when I was happy to read books all day.

Thank you Jesus.  Thank you lover, lover, lover, come back to me.







Wednesday, January 29, 2020

Snowdrops and Crocuses

I love snowdrops and crocuses, the signs of spring and harbingers of summer to come. .  The days grow longer with increasing light. I hear more bird songs as returning species join in the morning choirs. .  I love most the buds and sprouts, poking up from the soil with snow still on the ground. They’re as mpatient as me to lap up the new rays of sunshine.
I long for my T-shirts, shorts and sandals. I love to see the  lady butterflies divest  their  winter clothings cocoons,  leggings and nylons,  shed like old snake skins. 
Everyone smiles more. Steps are lighter. Sensual. 
I believe.I have hope.  My  faith grows stronger.  I relax.  I struggle less. It’s all just coming along.  Each day a little more light. A little more spring.  Life is all so much more appealing.   Even now, in the morning I see the sky lighten  sooner. More  days there’s  blue sky, no snow,  less  rain.
The Bagpipes of Robbie Burns Dinner have heralded the new spring.   Next we’ll have Valentine’s Day. The great spring love fest, kisses and skin to skin contact. That long awaited precurser to the autumn baby boom.  The songs of birds returning, the rumble of street motorcycles.  The  Tulip Festival.  Frazer Valley. Skagit Valley.   The explosion of colour that wakens the mind.  Finally the Cherry blossoms that turn the universe a forgiving pink. 
Hiking,  camping, all the outdoor summer activities begin again. Fireworks. Fishing. Lake and ocean swimming, beach bathing,  lawn chairs and summer books, read in the late day sun. Kool aid.  It all begins with snowdrops and crocuses.