Early Morning Wakening

At least it wasn’t a nightmare. I don’t think I needed even to pee. I just woke from a dream of Kubrick’s puzzles and IQ tests, swirling swirling shapes. And I thought the computer in my mind had failed somehow.  Pixelations on the screen of thought.  Perhaps I had insight into early dementia.  A glimpse of the destruction and healing.  Wondering now what memory was lost or what future capability is gone. Not that it matters. There are billions of cray available. I could piggy back a thought on another yet it’s 3 30 am and I can’t fall back to sleep.  In my self pity I worry.  I’ve been worrying about backing up RV’s. The crash and subsequent cost and time consuming disruption of a minor rainy cold tired night’s event wakes me now a year later. Like the face of a baby that did not live to be born came back over and over again till today I hardly recall the image. It no longer frightens me. I’m still recovering from the man who proudly talked of multiple murders but wanted his day in the sun too.  Entitlement is what it is.  I smoke a joint and forget the rules or past but want the ice cream as much if not more than the next guy. And it’s hard to kill.
I feel so far from suburbia.
I feel so far from the comfort of ignorance and security.
Each day I meet the face of reptilian rage and the anger of wolves in packs.  I remember the coyote female who tried to lure my little dog back to the pack for the ritual of canine cannibalism. I saw her face in passing today.
Eyes are haunting me.  So much to read.  So much horror.
People have even stopped shaking hands. Bumping knuckles.
I’m overwhelmed.  Finances, health, family, friends, work, demands. Each day, the alarm rings, I drink coffee, wash, do a day in the life, feel the tunnel of work like a garbage shute.  I slide down it and pop out the end in some dumpster.  Pick myself up and drive home to enter the aloneness of books and tv, Netflix, wifi, Facebook and comments. Bit pieces.  I love my fridge. I love the running water. I sometimes sit outside and love the air.  The dog is happy for our walk by the river.  It cleared some of the garbage smell away.  Unclean bodies.  Streets washed by water but needing soap. Too many needles.  Old tents. Bits of cardboard.  I could have sworn I saw a van dump an old sofa and garbage in a lane for someone else to clean away.  So many people don’t know to use the toilet.
Yet it’s all getting better. It’s all moving forward. Only in my mind is their revolution and death.  The big bang was yesterday. Today is actually pleasant. If I slip into the present, wear the day a little, then it’s not so heavy.  Winter clothing changing to spring and summer. A frock here.  Colours there. Buds and flowers.  I carry too many parcels on my shoulders. My hands are weighted down with things. I’ve a storage locker I’ve not dug through in a year or two. What are mementos when they hold us back.  I’m on the verge of purging.
Dreaming of the freedom and fear of the Pacific.  Prayer in the daily uncertainty of ship and sea.  I said I’d only come ashore to outfit. That was years ago. I’ve more than enough to escape. Yet I stay knowing I can cut a line but never could trust in bricks and mortar again.  Abortions take place where there are such wall. She kills babies and blames it on him.  He’s always at fault. It was ever thus.  Despite stories of apples they can’t come together to get to Mars. NASA is already asking for colonists and we can’t even making babies anymore. The courts are insane with suicide solutions and a few rich men.
I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
I have helped as best I can.  Been a healer.  Saved so many lives. Held so many hands in nightmares. Calmed so many hearts.  Even today I cured a body part threatening to leave an unkind human.  There’s need for maintenance.  And I was looking for the oil. My bicycle sits un used. I’ve got to find the tarp.  In the meantime I have WD40 in another place. It’s not here. There’s a guitar too and I planned to sing. But the Bible in the other room.  I miss the cockpit. I miss the easy reachability of critical things.  Like the dog on the bed when I wake in the night. Where is he now.  I reach out to him for comfort and he’s lying on the floor. We snuggled before bed. He came to me for assurance.  The end of the day belly scratch.
I sometimes miss the cat. Her uncanny appearances.  She moved between dimensions.
And did I meditate as I promised myself.  Sitting cross legged chanting for hours as I did in an earlier day when there seemed more time in the day and less phone calls and less demands.  So many people want a piece of me.  And yet I’d feel worse unwanted.  Popularity has it’s merits.  I’m blessed beyond belief and yet I am never satisfied.
I call to God and he or she or it, the god program, sends me people, and I want a holy space man rocket ship pilot with wizard powers and magical capabilities.  I want the devil really with his promises of earthly experience yet believe I want what Jesus wanted, solitude and silence.  He shouted away the devil. Materialism and life are so much more immediate and sensual than the spiritual.
I would have sex and chocolate and my heaven would be a place where I could smoke and drink like in youth when forgetfulness was desired not now when its inevitable.
I want to know what I want to do. I want to have a purpose beyond myself.  I am more than a consumer and yet I am just that.  A consumer.  To the consumer everything is consumption even God.
I ate God this weekend and drank his blood.  The sacrifice is ever there before me.  So when does one suicide.  Physician assisted suicide is to be legalized and encouraged and yet I resisted suicide after the abortion when she wanted me dead and would not believe in life. She hid so deep in her fear and hatred of her parents and her own life that she would not give birth to tomorrow.  Now there is Kate and the royal new born.  Somewhere my future is dead in a drain and I am celebrating the children of those who believed when all I ever meet are those who wish to die and I am somehow entrusted in keeping them alive.
I’ve had my thumb in the  hole in the damn for decades now and instead of a replacement they’re saying we all should do it.  Like Justin Troudeau and his mother smoking pot. I can’t tell anyone how wrong I felt it was to smoke pot and break the law and as a boy scout and a Christian I believed in the law before I learned that the Judge was a drunken intellectual who couldn’t stand up to read what he’d written.  And now I know that what I wrote stoned and drunk was somehow off, like meditations on LSD.
I figured out one day that drugs and alcohol were like sneaking over the walls of heaven as thieves, like the fools in Pilgrims Progress.  Heaven is invitational only. It’s not to be taken by force. I am a beggar at the gate. I am a second nano second after the thought. God is the first.  I’m a reaction. Thought is something later. Experience is first.  Grok.
God I long for you. I pray for you. I beg you to come into my life. Light up my night.  Raise me from ignorance. Fill me with your love and wisdom. Show me your way. Thy will be done not my will.  Guide me. Help me.
Thank you for this day. Thank you for the daily bread. Thank you for awakening and sleep. Thank you for all your blessings. Thank you for food and water and air and this life. Thank you for this ‘game’ of pixels and keyboard and help me win to a higher level.  Help me to get from this bottom of consumer materialism accounting financial quandary where I want and need to that higher power place of faith and trust and living in the flow.  I’ve cared for so many people through you. I’ve given with all my heart as those I’ve given to have counted ventricle and vessels to be certain I’m not short changing them an atrium.
Lift me out of this place of fear and sorrow into that world of freedom and prayer and meditation and certainty of you where there isn’t the constant negativity.
It’s my work. Lord.  Help me help those who are daily in the grip of delusions. Help me help those who are the pawns of the government psychopaths who enable addictions and write off the many for the profit of the few. Help me help each and every person who comes to me for solace. Help me give them hope and lead them from the darkness. Help me be a better healer so I can work myself out of a job. Help me end this life of constant service in insanity where there seems no end to the business. Help me make a difference,is that what it is, no I don’t think I’m that naive. I just want to move forward an inch at most, a nano second.  Help me to change myself and my attitude and help me to pray and love more deeply. Help me to help others more fully and show me the way.  The Way. The Way.
Life is a journey.  I’m feeling like I’m staggering about in the ditch lost in a forest when there must be a trail or some easier way forward.  Some place where tax men don’t threaten and bully like the men who bring guns to their doctors visits and the girls who see you as disposable ass wipe.
And I know too late how much my mother and father loved me and how I never loved or appreciated them enough. The dead call to me. I miss them so much. I regret I couldn’t have enjoyed the silences we shared more. I miss the packs and tribes and nations and groups. I understand the Salvation Army, their good work, their platoons.  I would know that there are others when I feel my back to the wall. I call out to you Jesus. I repeat your holy name. I pray that I am not alone.
Yet I feel alone. I feel separate and apart. I feel alien to the heard. I feel judged by my financial tag. I’m worth only what the bank says I’m worth and it’s a fixed game in a gambling casino and the tattoo on my arm was put there by someone sometime who said I was worth only this much. Arbitrarily someone else was worth more and I’m struggling to pay the rent when I think I should have a rocket ship.
But I don’t really want a rocket ship.
I want Luxor and Cleopatra and grapes and mommy.
Really I want back in the womb.
I’ve been expelled from eden for eating the fucking apple and I want back in the garden.
I am at war with God because that fat old man with a white beard won’t let me in his garden.  I named everything as I was told and even listened to her prattle on about the fucking snake. The snake says this the snake did this.  I ‘m without a rib and all I hear is what a shit I am.
I need a new publicist.
I want the role of God next time round.  Even Jesus didn’t have to live out a whole life. He kicked the can in his 20’s .  I used to worry about the crucifixion till I worked in intensive care and saw that people dying at 90 could suffer like a saint. Death and dying could be unpleasant any time.  the Good died young. The lucky went with a bullet.  War wasn’t such a bad thing as months in hospital. I felt saddest for the fistulas and the genetic ward.  Theres the rheumatism and arthritis. There’s the fatigue of damaged hearts. Theres the insane.
I’ve spent my life in disease and sickness with Donovan’s song, “looking through crystal spectacles, I can see I’ve had your fun, the doctor bit was so far out’ revolving around in my brain as those drug dealers are laughing at me for my silly words like integrity and duty.
Even the judge twisted the truth and lied and lied and lied.  Our big brains are not for honesty but for deceit the scientist says as with a bigger brain we can plan hunts better and sneak up together on wholly mammoths. But maybe we need our even bigger brains to learn our own self deception. To understand the deceit of State and Rulers and Bankers and the Media and the ……oldest law of the world is the Chinese Law of the Fish….there are big fish and little fish and the little fish must be fast and numerous.

I’m just a little fish.

Despilte all the self esteem training I can’t find it in me to think I’m a big fish. To be a big fish I’d need my own army and a rocket ship and mistresses.  Lots of mistresses. An a movie company and a license to kill and super powers.
I’d like to raise the dead and heal like Jesus.
I’d like to heal like Jesus.
I’d like to be a better doctor. After all these years I still can’t convince a drug addict to stop killing themselves.  I’ve stopped the suicidals but not the ones on drugs. Even the schizophrenics stopped killing themselves in my care but the drug addicts …..well….I failed…..he hung himself last year…..he was alone in the end…..family friends work all gone. ….and now they’re telling me it was a win….he hung himself but in the future I can ‘whack’ him with heroin and let him drift away.
A kid came in on heroin though. He was only 20. Should I whack him.
Do no harm.
And the judge and the college and the government laughed and laughed at me for saying I took the hippocratic oath and believed in it.  I want to die in the wee hours of the morning and leave this nightmare where the doublespeak of 1984 is all about us, where the promises of Clockwork Orange are here today and I’m unable to do anything about even one life who insisted that smoking marijuana he’s a genius. And I tell him he’s a fool.  He’s not enlightened. He’s a slave. and I wish I could sit another night with bikers screaming along the words to Goddam the Pusherman with Steppenwolf on the stage.
I’m grieving.
I want to raise the dead.
I want to walk on water.
I want to have telepathy.
I want a rocket ship and a license to kill.
I don’t want to kill my patients but I do want to kill the man and women who stole the money for the medicine and the man and women who gave the heroin for profit and didn’t include an insurance policy.  Justin Troudeau and his mom can smoke dope all they want. Why are there so many bureaucrats getting on about ‘prevention’ when the police won’t even keep the streets clear of drug addict zombies looking to bounce off a car just trying to get to work each day in the insanity of the city.
And what am I doing in the city.  She insisted that we had to return to the city. Twice I’ve escaped to the country, going with wives who have said they wanted to ride horses and have fresh air and do all that other country shit but once I was there with them they insisted they couldn’t be so far from their mothers and the shopping. I’ve tired of shoppaholics as well.  And what am I doing here when I could be alone in the wilderness or alone at sea.
I’m here as one small voice.
I’m Isaiah.  I’m the salt. I’m a spice. I believe the hysteria would run rampant with anti vexers and luddites and ISIS if not for a few who hold true to the delusion of democracy and all for one and one for all.
I’m silly.
I will go to work and do my bit.  Stiff upper lip.  My fear for family will pass.  I am a cog in the wheel.  I’m insignificantly significant and significantly insignificant.
The rioters don’t clean up after themselves.  The journalists and bureaucrats and all the paper pushers and talkers condemn the police and nurses and all those others who work in front lines.  We’re all plumbers.  Were Jesus to return he’d not go to the fishermen but rather he’d come and say “Be a plumber”.  Clean up shit.  Constipation is the problem.  The need is not in getting food but rather in getting rid of waste. And yes Jesus, ‘give unto cesar cesar’s due’ but really that was when taxes were 10% not the 50% today. Government is a cancer on the work of men. I see horrendous waste of resources in the DTES. Government funded crack pipes and government funded programs upon programs with little understanding of history or change put forward like kids who get a bag of gold and spend it on their friends and their ideas. Well I’m tired of seeing this waste and working to help individuals only to see things like school debt slavery for those who would have and education or costs of medications only the rich can afford.
I feel at times I just have to squeeze the pus out of my head.  There’s the fear and resentment and I’m not able to stay in the day and work as a cog in the wheel because I’m lost in the illusions remembering the promises of politicians and how we all worked for this health care and education and one day found that all the money was going to CEO”s . When did a government manager need millions . When did the CEO of the CBC get off getting millions in perks and I’m a doctor working 12 hours a day and that shit is putting out the news that propagandizes the country and i’m sup[posd to tell the truth and he’s allowed to lie with impunity. When will the CEO OF the CBC be held accountable for the shit he puts out when all of us drive to and from work and listen to rank propaganda not from our government but from some insanity I heard 40 years ago.
I pay taxes for the news and I have to go to BBC to learn what’s going on in the world. I drive to work every day and want to hear the ’news’s but I have to have Facebook to learn about Tesla’s new home battery. I have a half hour when  I could hear the ’news’ but instead I listen to the symphony because my taxes are being wasted on programmers who are propagandists and their bias and misinformation is unforgivable. I can only believe that those who write the news for CBC are living in the security and wealth of Luxor on some space station but their Canada is so far removed from what I experience.
All day long i see patients who are struggling financially in the richest country in the world. These are people who work and have worked and are good people but they can’t afford houses and they can’t pay student loans and they’re afraid for their kids and
I miss speakers corner.
In london, there was this shoe box.
I went at lunch with a sandwich and heard the ranters.
I loved the ranters.
Sometimes they’d sound just like the adorable CBC program called the Debaters.
In my head there’s rarely this mess. I block my negative thoughts with constant prayer. I’m focussed all day on solving problems .I’m teaching and showing and celebrating and elevating and explaining and encouraging and struggling to transfer experience and knowledge of disease and cure to people who have so many obligations and so little time.  I’m other focused all day.
Then I wake in the night and can’t sleep.
And this is the Laing Knot that’s blocking the sleep. This is the despair and fear and worry. This is the sense of failure. This is the despite the big brain and all my effort I can’t keep people alive forever. This is the fear of losing another person or even another dog. I don’t do well with dead fish. I tear up inside. I literally fall apart when I see sickness or death and I blame myself.  I blame myself all the time for the failure of life. This planet should be perfection. Everyone comes to me and complains. It’s a day long experience of complaints and I personalize it. I’m the cause of all disease and all failure . I ‘m the second law of physics. I’m supposed to be able to fix everything or at least reduce the pain.
I am daily given suffering and pain. All day long I’m faced with people blaming me for their pain which they caused by slashing their wrists and wanting to feel good slashing their wrists. I miss the simplicity and reasonableness of main stream general practice and the lie that it’s not as insanity  as psychiatry.
I miss the collusion.
I miss the confabulation.
 I am in the raw reality of life sucks. I want to die. Help me.
And all the fucking supreme court has to offer is physician assisted suicide. And all the government has to offer is pot.
Most of my patients would be a whole lot better with half the taxes and a little more money and jobs.  Where are the jobs. Why did the university sell women’s studies degrees when there are no jobs for any more fine arts students.  Shouldn’t those with women’s studies degrees be able to demand they be paid back their tuition and get to take accounting and engineering and plumbing course because that’s what the state is paying for.  Could we half the cancer of baurocracy and reward entrepreneurs or admit we really no longer want ‘universal health care’ but only ‘health care for the useful’ and give physician assisted suicide to anyone who is unfashionable this month. The communists ran their countries by killing off half the people and letting the rest share the illusion of progress because they were double wealthy overnight.
There are these thought loops in the brain. Cognitive behavioural therapy helps to identify them. Buddhism and Christian mysticism, ala the Dark Night of the Sout worked on identifying these computer ’trojans’ which had somehow burrowed into ones’ brain and interfered with normal functioning.
Most of the fear is self created.
Most of the suffering is caused by lack of presence.
Most of the problems I think are problems are above my pay grade.
I’ve no useful information about the climate change or the life of the planet. The nonsense the media put outs and what’s available on the internet is quite silly. As a scientist I know the answer is in the ‘stacks’ but the ‘stacks’ aren’t readily available on the internet because they begin around 100 or 200 pages in as all the early internet stuff is propaganda and what stupid people want to know on a topic.There’s also the dark web.
Follow the money trails.
Whenever I research anything I find conflicting accounts and these are competing. For instance the destruction of Alberta which gave rise to the change in government followed the successful Warren Buffet fight against the Keystone Pipeline on the grounds that it would damage the environment. Warren Buffet moves oil by train. It costs 3 x as much and is highly dangerous , far worse than pipeline spills.  But blocking keystone kept this monopoly and Canada suffered.  Collectively Canada has been rich because of Alberta’s ‘transfer’ payments.  Alberta has been condemned much as the police and much as scientists have been.  The NDP win in Alberta.  Canada is a ‘resource’ source for the mighty US. New York raped indiana.  Canada can expect to bend over.  There are big fish and little fish.  Our enemy is not the US but rather China which is the new Russia.  Russia is the new Germany and 60 is not the new 40.  Old people are fighting yesterdays wars with yesterdays knowledge.
We’re due for a war.
In Europe their a major wars every 50 years.
Economic recessions are like tides.
Without a miracle we’re hooped.
The atheists and intellectuals are declining. They hope to fill their ranks with pot smokers.  A study of the rationalists showed so many were emotionally immature due to addictions.
The enlightened can avoid war and recession. There is hope in God and spirituality.
I have to fight the demon of depression within me. The black dog. The part that just wants to give up. And I wrestle with the devil or god till the tiredness recurs and I get a possibility of sleep. I'm tired now. I've got out all the pus. All the stuff that doesn't make any real sense and isn't relevant to actual chopping wood and carrying water, all the media shit and all the conspiracy theories and all the anxiety and self pity.
Now I might sleep again a few hours before another day.

Please God be with me and guide me and if it be thy will let me die peacefully . Help me again to do the very best I can with what I have.  Thank you for all that this life gives and for all the help I have.  Thank you.  Help me love more. Help me fear less. Help me be of greater service. Guide me. Please.