Death Cafes

I heard on the radio of a new old idea. People are getting together for coffee to discuss death. It might sound macabre at first but it’s philosophically ancient and uplifting. In Medieval days there was even the notion of a 'good death'.  This was before 'physician assisted suicide'.  A 'good death' was about the completion of a 'good life' . This was before the age of amorality.  Relative truth was not a thing of the day and death was considered an absolute.
So many people live today ‘lives of quiet desperation’.  So much depends on our perspective.  The first path of the Noble Truth 8 fold path of Buddhism is 'right view.'  There is a certainty about the relativity of perspective. But there is also the perspective  of the future too.  No one knows.  The pseudoscientists and materialists ever loud as children would have you believe as they do.  But death has no simple answer and each view has it’s own unique reward and loss.
I believe in death as a time of transition.  There is ‘afterlife’ for me just as there is ‘morning after’ when I go to sleep. So far I’ve not ‘died in my sleep.’  Not that I know of.  Not that I would know either. This is 'belief'.  This is an 'idea'.  Even the great Houdini apparently didn't 'escape death' as he said he would.
The epistemology of knowing is itself frought with constant hazard.  Naturally knowing death, a purely private and subjective matter distinct from the public and objective event is too.  I’ve held the dying and felt the end of the body with relative certainty.  The works of Psychiatrist Dr. Moody about Near Death Phenomena and later works quoted by Neurosurgeon Dr. Eben Alexander in Proof of Heaven even challenge the notion of the ‘time’ of death.  As physicians we once used the idea of the death of the heart and loss of pulse and EKG reading, but with EEG advances Brain Death, where available,  has been used as ‘best time of death’ practice.
This is a long way from the days when one felt air around the nostrils and if it wasn’t moving declared a person dead.  Fakirs and yogis long ago developed methods of slowing breathing and heart to the point of ‘appearing’ dead with the subsequent apparent miracle of reanimation.  However even today there are those who have ‘revived’ after being declared ‘brain dead’ and that certainly challenges our ‘cutting edge’ perceptions of the simple ‘timing’ of death.  Science continues to expand our knowledge of the ‘event phenomena’.
What counts most is whether one believes death is a permanent or temporary end.  Is consciousness tied to the body and brain. Is there instead as Socrates believed a distinct body and soul separation, the joining of which occurs in this life whereas death releases the prisoner soul to rise or travel on.  Neuroscientist Dr. Mario de Beuregaard in his book Spiritual Brain does a superb job of debunking the prevailing myths of consumer society and the propaganda of "he who has the most toys wins".  He studied Carmelite Nuns meditating with PET Scans and showed the extreme ecstatic capacity inherent in the process which defies the reductionist egotism of the ultimately fearful.
Time is even a working principle but something which studied more in depth becomes the thing of Einstien and the perception of the "now'.
The Mathematician philosopher Pascal postulated a gamblers approach to belief in god which might well apply to belief in afterlife.  He said that if there was no god and one believed in God there was indeed no loss. However if there was a God and one believed in God there was a potential considerable win.  Not believing in an infinite possibility would by Pascals reasoning be an overwhelming loss.  "Pascal’s Wager" has gone down in history as one of the simplest approaches to positive thinking.
It’s challenged however by the Neitziean Superman complex who would do acts in life for which they’d not want potential consequence in afterlife. The very idea of a relationship between present life and after life is a posit itself.  The Superman who makes his own rules and lives without the restraint of the world might still be hampered by the ‘still small voice’ which somehow disturbs the sleep of the Caligula’s of the world.  Addicts and alcoholics who have done ‘monstrous’ things and tried to ‘numb’ themselves and overcome the ‘anxiety’ and ‘insomnia’ and ‘nightmares’ which accompany the obscene and offensive, don’t seem to find enough ‘sedation’ and seem haunted desperately desiring a subjective certain end to their own miserable existence. It’s not surprising that many world leaders even today involve themselves in philanthropy in later life not just for tax havens but rather to expiate guilt about earlier transgressions.  The Mob was notorious for it’s support of children’s hospitals.
Death being an end would appeal most to those most guilty whereas those most worthy might well have nothing to fear of an afterlife. Prevailing theories commonly might reflect the morality of an individual as much as unbiased observation.
Certainly world leaders and the elite might fear the afterlife and hoarding wealth this life seek immortality by any medical means.  The advances in stem cell research and body part transplants is not driven by the young as much as it is by the old and wealthy whose behaviour might in this life time be considered suspect.  They do not seem to wish to meet their maker quickly in the eyes of those who lack wealth or such choice.
Amazing Grace, the great testimony, written by a hardened slave dealer contains the memorable phrase, "I once was lost but now I”m found.'  The end of life 'conversion' is so common as to be a thing of movies and stories.
 The young have been given visions of glory and virgins with death to entice them to do the will of the old who cling to life fearing death.  Do they know more or by the way that they lived missed out on the life that sees some walk peacefully to their ends as if fulfilled. Thomas wrote the great poem for his father, "do not go gentle into that still night."  
How one lives superficially, fearfully or in depth, passionately, might well ‘fill’ one with respect to life that one is ‘ready’ for death whereas another might be ‘frantic’ and ‘lost’ at the prospect.  So many people live lives like ‘happy cabbages’ not ‘aware’ and seemingly distracted repeatedly say before death ‘if I’d only known”.
Jesus taught ‘be watchful’.  His parable of keeping the lamps lit speaks to the same message as the Buddha's which was to "be awake" .  Today's image of the 'zombie " is a contrast to the spiritual direction of the wisdom teachers.  Richard Rohr describes the wisdom fathers as generally teaching that this world is one of people asleep, sleep walker.   Dr. Scott Peck described it as a kindergarten for the soul.
What metaphor rules ones life, i.e. that life is a journey, a bowl of cherries, a place of suffering, a waiting for Godot, whatever,  defines the ultimate meaning one gives to death and may well create the nature of existence itself. The Secret and the Law of Attraction suggests that there comes a time where our very thoughts manifest our actual reality. This isn’t necessarily so or without discipline of mind but might well be an explanation for death.  Is one ever ‘ready’ for death.
Talking with a WWI vet who survived the trenches and countless opportunities for death, he told me once quite simply, " we all knew ’the bullet must have our name on it.'”  There’s the whole issue of ‘freewill versus fate’. The shallow 21st century opportunist speaks eloquently of genetics and ‘determinism’ but cranks out ‘selfies’ like the next one. The 'selfie' is the ultimate facile seeking of some form of timelessness or immortality.
The idea that ‘no praise, and no blame’ goes with fate is alien to this millennial culture which wants ‘all praise, and no blame’ no different from my OO7 culture which wanted a ‘license’ to kill because we all have ‘freedom’ to kill but don’t wish the ‘consequences’ that come with 'freedom'.  Death is a consequence.  Hence the success of the insurance agencies and all the silliness of individuals to sacrifice so many rights and freedoms for ‘safety’ as an ultimately illusory goal.
Life is temporal.
But is death different?  Again is it temporal or permanent?
I applaud the return of ‘death cafes’ . Can one truly celebrate life without discussion of death.  The whole cultural art forms of the zombie, vampire and the living dead suggest we cannot.  Might we not in kind embrace the angels if we shed some light on death rather than leave it to the nether regions.

Gratitude Aug. 29, 2016

Thank you God for my home. Thank you for my own heating, running water, view, bed, and toilet. Thank you for this coffee this morning and the canned milk and honey. Thank you also for this Instant oat cereal and milk.  Thank you for my dog Gilbert who was laying next to me when I awoke.
Thank you for the dreams. I was glad to visit people I’ve not dreamed together with for sometime.  You will know who I mean.  It was one of those nuministic dreams, the gathering and the people, the peninsula but this time I was on land on my motorcycle and the boat was at anchor. I loved visiting all the homes and creative sites and seeing the people industriously productive.  It was kind of you to show me all this.  I liked the dogs too.
Thank you for the weekend. Thank you for the successful work on this RV. Thank you for friends, for Tom, and Laura, George, and John, Phillip, Willi, Kirk, and all those others who come in and out of my life with cheer.  I am ever thankful for associations.  Thank you for family. Help my brother and give him strength and success in his present trouble.
Thank you for Monday. Thank you for vehicles. Thank you for work and help me do thy will, be what is needed today to do the best I can and be the channel for your healing. Help me to practice the presence of God and live meditatively in the moment with awareness holding to the flow and being sensitive to all that is needed of me.
Thank you Lord for your the Holy Bible. Thank you for history as well. Thank you for novels and television and movies. Thank you for stories and play.
Thank you for showers and now I must run to enjoy my new and improved facilities thankful to be back in my home and restored to my routines.
Thank you Jesus.   Having spent the weekend reading about Chalcyon and the discussions of your divine and human nature I have no doubt that you shit and knew the meaning of a good shit.  Defecation is divine.  There are way too many constipated souls and dysfunctional toilets in this world where diarrhea is equally a concern.  Obesity and starvation go hand in hand in the feast and famine unreliability of this insecure temporal space where all the certainty lies in the whole and the depth.  Let me be ever close to you Lord. Help me know you truly and feel the strength and clarity and confidence in your presence. Thank you Lord.

An Otherwise Shitty Weekend

It was definitely a shitty weekend. The valve on my black water sewage holding tank had closed shut. No one would fix it in situ because of the heat and tourist season.  Because of an obvious design flaw when these valves crap out, if they crap out in the closed position ,there is no way to get the crap out in the normal way. Further, when the old valve is to be removed, there is necessarily going to be some spillage before the new valve can be installed.
My friend Tom had siphoned out the tank through toilet itself.  This procedure caused an evacuation of our sweet neighbour next to us. Who would have known she had a severe respiratory condition?One whiff and apparently she turned purple and blue wheezing,choking and coughing. Tom was very apologetic. The ambulance crew was friendly enough.  That was just a whiff portend of the future.  Birds flying over died in flight  but suddenly came alive again on the ground as zombie birds that attacked  children and small animals.  The park management hinted that it would be best if l solved my leakage problem elsewhere.  There are no "Depends" for RV’s.
The last time I moved the RV was a couple of years ago when I caused such damage that it was in the shop a couple of months.  I love my Keystone Energy RV and felt such guilt for catching her slide on that nasty cement wall as I turned just a little too tightly around that very inconsiderate corner.
When we hit the highway, naturally there were high winds.  The trailer began fishtailing just like my first trailer did before it did that 360 turn  on the freeway taking us with it  before flopping over dead in the ditch and pulling my new Ranger truck into the grave with it .  Laura had been screaming "We're going to die! We're going to die!" and I hadn't thought so since I'd crashed other vehicles at higher speeds and lived through those.  Laura wasn't nearly as experienced with high speed crashing before she met me but that trailer truck event really moved her along.
Both trailer and truck were write offs . I was very thankful for having bought the best insurance.  It turned out that the second hand trailer had  been sold to me with a faulty brake system and I was exonerated for once.  That's when I began buying trailers from Travelhome and have ever been thankful. When this trailer began fish tailing I slowed right down happy that the brakes were working at very least.
I pulled into Travel Home RV in Abbotsford.   As is my normal response,  I was considering trading the trailer in for a 5th wheel.  Thankfully they had no fifth wheel toy hauler in stock.  I might have stayed married in the past if there'd been no trade ins in stock.
What they did have and suggested was a better hitch.  Again I might have stayed married one of the times if some one had suggested such an original idea.  Keeps the wife. Get a better hitch!. They really are the best at Travel Home.   For less than a $1000 I had a 4th way state of the art hitch for a much heavier trailer installed while we waited.  What a difference!  No more fish tailing and no more lurching.  No more shame about having overloaded my trailer either.
Heading up to the Coquahalla is when the truck died. It didn't suddenly die.  It just suddenly lost power.  An evil wrench icon in the Hal computer communication window flashed on saying the truck was now in the possession of the truck safety police and would only 'limp' home.   It did this once before and it was a manufacturer gasget glych in this model and year of F350 Fords. The dealer was terrific and rebuilt the engine all on warranty. The truck'sbeen a trooper for the last 50,000 km until it’s been kibitzing about these last couple of weekends. Tom volunteered  to take it to a Diesel sub-specialist who charges more than neuro surgeons. It was supposed to be perfect after they do a mechanic's voodoo dance and replaced a random part of the turbo charger.   I asked Tom if he'd checked whether the fellow voted Justin Trudeau before letting him work on my very conservative Harley Davidson edition truck.
At 60 km/hr  we made it almost to Princeton, way out  in the boonies.  We pulled off the highway at  a place where it looked like others had been dumping a variety of shit. We hoped our discharge would be minor..  The tank was sucked clean but apparently, according to the instructions, you’re not supposed to leave your valve open  for long sits because solid collects and the wet  flows over.  We thought there might be some kind of crystalline science fiction monster lurking still.
Tom got under the truck. He’d come equipped with overalls but I noticed he used my wrenches. I didn’t mind.  I was literally catatonic with the thought of reacquaintance with my own shit of perhaps 2 years previous.  What would we  say to each other? What was the etiquette? I shone the light on matter.  There were only 2 nuts that needed removing, not a particularly reassuring thought.
Tom opened the pipe and yes there was a gushing moment, that adolescent instant of blushing release. It wasn’t a whole lot in terms of sludge but the odour was noteworthy.  The paint on the RV peeled and nearby trees wilted.  Squirrels developed rasping voices.
While Tom was swiftly putting in the new valve,  more birds fell from the sky.  Much to our amazement little creatures and insects descended en mass on the  discrete effluence, this purified treated and conditioned human waste.  I’d added all manner of enzyme and  RV treatment to it  hoping that might help appease the pouting valve..  These little creatures r began instantly consuming this exotic substance and instead of dying took on hulk like Lilliputian appearance of Olympic Russian athletes,  their little bodies steroidally swelling before our eyes.
We both washed. excessively, after the event. I had only been in splash range but no amount of soap and water seemed enough.  I was glad for the shower.  I did shit in the now functional toilet. I very much enjoyed this important throne moment in the privacy of my home. If I was Justin Trudeau I suppose I would have taken a selfie but the thought never crossed my mind.
Neither of us had much appetite after the experience.  We did feed Gilbert well if only to discourage him from his French tendency to ‘mange de merde’.  Half poodle, half cocker spaniel, we blame his rude behaviours on the French side of his nature.
That night with the RV generator supplying electricity we watched a black and white film of the Tobruk defence in WWII starring a very young Richard Burton.  Tom and I felt that in our own way we had brought the RV through a long and shitty siege and prevailed despite overwhelming odds.
 It was great to awake in the wilderness having my very own toilet to relieve myself at, no longer fearing overflow.
Tom, of course, got to use the facilities too but Gilbert was left to the outdoors.  As a connoisseur of butts we thought the previous night’s experience with the RV  would have raised his appreciation for the Keystone Energy, in his doggie mind.
Given the trip was downhill the truck engine gave little trouble on the way home. Tom amazingly parked the RV without doing major damage. I really thought that was very good of him.  He’s planning on getting the truck back to the guys to find out why it was still acting so shitty.
Now that he's gone, I think I’ll just sit on the throne.  It's not that I need to go but it feels so good.

Saturday Morning and the RV Holding Tank

I awoke this morning to a picture sent by Kevin at 7 am of the cutest little munchkin god kid Kendra, hands and face all covered in blueberry jam.  Gilbert thanked Kevin immediately seeing this as his opportunity to dive in with dog kisses and squirmy body.
“Since I’m awake,  I might as well take you for a walk,” I said to Gilbert.  “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” tail wagging body happy thoughts.
I dressed.  Gilbert bolted out the door. I caught up with his leash.  He swatted down the lane right next to the waste bin. I picked up this present and deposited then took him back to the trailer. I meanwhile walked to the club house where I used the facilities.  My own have been plugged for weeks.
I’ve taken this as a metaphor. I see this as reflecting my relationship with God.  Somehow my life is so full of shit I can’t let the light of joy and heaven in. I have to get rid of the shit.  I’ve called various people. All the leaders in the field. The plumbing and septic system and waste folk are all flummoxed. There’s a broken valve and if anyone attempts to fix it in the park there will be waste overflow.  We have to take it to a place where the waste leakage will not stink up the neighbours in this otherwise lovely heat.
Tom has volunteered to help.  He even bought the valve replacement. Now he’s on his way to assist me moving my RV to the country.  We’re going to spend the night in the deep woods and replace the valve.  Out in the country we expect to find a place where we can have the RV on an angle so the shit in the tank is least likely to overflow when we removed the jammed valve.  It’s a design flaw. I am certain thousands of others have encountered this problem and there are videos on you tube about replacing the valve.  But there’s did not freeze shut. Open it’s a non issue.  The tank is emptied and the valve is replaced but closed is another story.
Most people do not ‘live aboard’ their RV’s or at least are not encumbered as I am with so much ‘shit’.  The metaphor here is that I have to ‘lighten up’.  I have a need for better organization. I have a couple of activities that I do each season and literally since last year I’ve not moved the activities of one season to the storage locker as is the plan.  I’ve got last years hunting clothing and this summer’s camping gear and all my work gear and my sports and reading material and writing projects and some of the boating gear all here. My garage which is supposed to be empty so I can load my Harley or my Honda 500 Pioneer is knee deep in suitcases and guitars and motorcycle gear.
It was the same when I lived on my sailboat. The sailboat without all the clothing associated with work and some of the other activities was just perfect for travelling and crossing oceans.  This RV is the same. I really think it’s the perfect RV for a cross country trip or for hunting trips to the north.  If I’d just get the stuff to the storage locker I’d be okay.  However the storage locker is next to the boat and this RV is on the other side of the city.  The change of one part in a whole requires the reworking of the entire system.
I have had to put netting and hooks for bungees up to make this RV more mobile.  When I’m just using it for a hunting trip it’s not a big deal because I can lessen the land and stow things but now there’s simply no room for things to be stored.
I’m full of shit. It’s really temping to consider a bigger unit. I’ve had my eye on the fifth wheels for a long time. The advantage there is better separation of bedroom with the laundry facility, more storage room, not that much more but more and better space in kitchen with counter space.  I really don’t have counter space here.
But that’s the ‘2 foot itis of ‘boat world.”  For years I wanted a slightly bigger boat. Yet my yacht is big enough. Just like this RV. If I wasn’t working all the time  and my storage locker was nearer and more convenient or I was simply better organized all would be well.  I do miss having a cleaning lady too.
I just think of all the pictures and things that will fall when we actually take this baby on the road. It’s been too long entrenched. My sailboat was perfect with everything properly stowed and the boat in working order after about of a week of travelling down the coast.  if I was on the road for a week the same would hold for this RV.  It’s just not moved since 2 years ago when I tore the slide parking at the end of the last moose hunting trip when I returned so tired late at night and worried about getting up to work the next day.  It was a guaranteed disaster, the kind of thing we learned on the sailboat.  Better to wait till morning than go into a harbour late at night in poor conditions.  The same held true for this RV Park. It’s a bitch to park in. The tightest parking one will ever encounter with a motor home.  Just like some of the docking scenarios that I encountered early but now seem relatively doable.  It’s a steep learning curve with these big machines.  My yacht is 13 tons.  Docking involved wind, current, and inertia.  The RV is just an issue of watching out for 4 sides on turning and backing up. There’s no wind or current by comparison.
It’s all overwhelming.
I’m thankful for Tom’s company.  With guys it’s always good to have another person to lighten the load.  All over this park there are couples with  one person who does the driving and another who gets out and watches as an extra set of eyes to lessen the likelihood of crash. On the boat it’s the one person who steps off and ties a line to the dock to hold the boat.
I’ve done these things alone but I sure do appreciate the help.
Today the inertia is with me.  I’ve had coffee but I’d really like to just lie on the couch and read a novel. The thought of all the moving parts of hooking up this trailer and driving out of the park and then heading up the road towing tons of home is simply overwhelming.
I phoned Tom at 8 am and said we’d plan with breakfast first. White Spot.  More coffee and more mobility.  Then it will happen.
We want to take the RV up north this fall for hunting simply because it’s going to get cold soon. Tenting is fun but not in the cold.  This RV is the perfect set up.  It can go on logging roads and backwoods but we really need to know where we’re going and where we’re going to set up.  The problem with a trailer is you don’t want to get stuck because backing up is a royal hassle.  A nightmare if it’s any distance.  And certainly something you don’t want to be doing on a mountain road.  We have however found a small paved trailer car park near where we want to hunt so plan to take the trailer there and then drive the truck with ATV the 10 miles back to the hunting area.  Laura will be coming along and will like the luxury whereas Tom and I and Gilbert will rather enjoy coming back to warmth and comfort of our RV home.  I like the showers.
Now I’m going to enjoy the shitter working again.
I also know that it’s not going to be a much of a mess as I fear.  But I’d love a cleaning lady.  There will be stuff falling to the floor and I really need to get this place better organized. I do miss my cleaning lady.  It’s been a couple of months since I spent a day going through this place and really cleaning it.
I could do stuff now while I’m waiting for Tom but I’m going wait till I’m driven by having another person waiting on me and me dashing about putting dishes in sinks and bathrtumbs and such so they won’t fly about.
I’m inspired now. I think I’ll shave and shower. Then I think I’ll put the coffee on for another cup.  I’ve got to get myself in the zone to address this RV move and shitter restore equation.
It’s times like this I understand why guys never get past the couch.  I did years with the highest tech being a canoe and bicycle. The car was something . But there were mechanics and I ever learned mechanics for the maintenance of my bug. That’s when it began.  I learned the mechanics for the bug and then it was downhill from there.  Having the yacht required me to learning plumbing.  I fixed the plumbing and replaced the toilet on that boat a dozen times. Diesel mechanics courses and courses on radio and radar and electronics and bigger and bigger trucks and bigger and bigger RV’s.  Now I’m 21st century and looking longingly back on the days when I had only a pup tent a canoe and an old car that carried me and my canoe bicycle and tent.  I sometimes think that retirement will be a lessening until I am back there.  It’s one thing to have never had the Harley Davidson and another to know it’s joy and then return to the simpler cheaper less complicated bicycle. I’m not there yet and love this RV for instance when it’s working. It’s rocket science.  It’s unbelievable.  But when these high end items go wrong they sure are complicated. There’s a simple joy in Walden Pond.
We talk a lot about the simplest sailing system off shore.  All the accessories can and will go wrong so there’s a die hard group that don’t have GPS , radar or autopilots and remain luddite and safe. Like the AK47 ….a truly dependable rifle.  I’ve got the semi auto Ruger and it does jam whereas my old bolt action rifle is so simple and dependable.
Then there’s the whole world of leasing and renting.  Let some one else maintain things.  Ownership is over rated.  Hotel living at it’s finest.  Maids.  Car to Go.  There’s a lot to be said for that. I’ve given up on home ownership roof repair, plumbing costs and yard maintenance and all the other things that went with owning homes. Mostly I got tired of losing the investment because my partner and I were not able to maintain our relationship so the home became a burden and I lost my shirt every time.  I lack the fundamental ‘entitlement’ that others seem to have. I also lack the ‘spite’. I just want it over and I’ve found myself paying through the teeth just to get away from the abuse and anger.  The most beautiful people can be the most ugly .  I don’t like neighbours who are psychopaths like the guy who almost killed my cat stealing my power after I went to work and by doing so triggering the shut off on the heater.  For weeks I’d come home to a shivering cat . Then I found out this Vancouver psychopath was waiting for me to go to work so he could unplug my electricity and run it into his home to save himself the money of winter heating.  In a civilized country I’d able to get recompense but in Canada it was best to move away.  I like my mobility.  Without police protection or legal support of the working man and the government considering the middle class solely a tax grab, tis best to be able to move . If I had a home today I’d want a gated community.  I understand Trump wanting to build a wall. I laughed to see the huge wall around Clinton’s place. I remember liking the barred windows and walls in the Mexican haciendas. We’re getting that way here. Even in this park if anything is left not locked down thieves range through at night and steal.  Bicycles are forever going missing in Vancouver. It’s famous for the level of bicycle theft. Probably the highest in the world.  More and more heroin and more and more theft.
Of well, time to shave and prepare for the a shitty day.

Rabbit Hunting near Kamloops

Another incredible weekend in the woods.  I finished work Friday afternoon and met up with Tom at my place.
Gilbert, my cockapoo, just loves Tom.  Tom has gained his affection by being his designated ball thrower. Whenever he sees Tom he begins barking and running about his legs in circles till he suddenly rushes off to find a ball, returns, drops it at Tom's feet, then does this little mincing dance until Tom throws the ball as far as he can.  Gilbert retrieves it and Tom doesn't lose patience with Gilbert's favourite of favourite games.
Meanwhile we loaded the Ford F350 truck.  I had a new Coleman Weathermaster tent I was looking forward to trying out. I'd bought in sale, regular $350, for $250 at Canadian Tire.  It sleeps six, and has a netted section at the front.
We had the Honda 500 side by side Pioneer in the back of the truck, rifles, sleeping bags, tents, fishing rods, fly rods, pots and pans and cooking geer and the propane Coleman campstove, all piled in the crew cab of the truck.  Gilbert sat on the centre console but had room to curl up on my jacket and computer case in the back which he did.
We were off.  The highway was slow but moving so we were thankful for that.
In Chilliwack we stopped at Tom's to pick up his bolt action single shot  22 rifle and fishing rod with mitchell 300 spincaster.  I'd brought my Ruger Semi Auto breakdown 22 rifle and the Ruger semi auto .223 Min 14.  We remembered the gas cans for the generator and work lamps but made the bad decision to leave the boat and outboard. The fish would be jumping all weekend laughing at us just beyond the reeds and rushes outside the reach of our casts which fowled repeatedly.
"We should have brought the boat," was heard said by one or the other of us more than one that weekend.
We got burgers and Gilbert was happy to get his little paddy along with us.  He's one of the crew and one of the hunt.  Such a great companion.  Enthusiastic about everything when the gang gets together.
At Canadian Tire we picked up Ammo and dog food.  Then at Superstore we stopped for steaks, zuchini, lunch meat, eggs, yogurt, bread, milk, honey and coffee.  The melon was a nice touch.
Tom drove up the Coquahala.  We got to Kamloops after midnight.
We filled up the thermos at Tim Hortons and got a dozen donuts for the last stretch.
Tom found a tiny one lane bridge on the map and saved us an hour driving. Still we didn't get to the lakes until about 2 am, the night drive up a mountain logging road not something to be hurried.
We gave praise to God and thanked Jesus that no one had arrived at the first of our hoped for campsites.  Alot of times I've arrived in wee hours like this after hours on the road only to find other campers or hunters had beaten us to the wilderness sites.  It really is God's country and we know very well we're not the only ones who love the BC backwoods experience.
We got the generator and trouble light and work light going. Then it was the first time putting up the tent.  It was a puzzle. Thankfully it was colour coded and not too difficult. Admittedly Tom is an engineer and I would not have been able to figure out the door poles myself. The door on this tent is genius, one of the greatest camping design advances. I blew up the new air mattresses too.
It was a cool night. Marvellous view of the lake with the almost full moon in a clear sky.  Really the stuff of Canadian dreams.  3 am and we were all snug as bugs. I'd remembered Gilbert's sweater.  He slept most of the night with Tom but visitted me a couple of times.
In the morning, 6 am Gilbert began barking to defend us from the onslaught of an evil squirrel. A squirrel, upset at our presence under his tree had begun bombing the tent with twigs and such. Gilbert was delighted to be up. I was less than excited.  We went back in the tent. Tom hadn't even woken.
Around 9 30 we both got up. Tom was first to get the coffee going.  Then he was kind enough to make delicious bacon and eggs.  The sun was shining. The lake was tranquil. Fish were jumping.  We tried some casting. I was reading a Tom Clancy Net Force novel on my iPhone. Life was good. I'm so glad I brought my recliner.
After a very slow start and much needed relaxation and a second or third cup of coffee we got the Honda Pioneer off the back of the truck so Gilbert and I could go for a drive and reconnaissance.  What fun.  I love the 4x4 Honda. Tom had installed the new windshield and while it wasn't needed in the heat it really did make the cab cozy. I can see using this machine with snow on the ground. The windshield blocks out the wind but also for summer as it was it has the capacity to open and let in a refreshing breeze.
The dust was terrible and less without the windshield so next trip out we took it off.
That evening there were rabbits everywhere again.  I had the Ruger Mini 14 and shot 4.  Gilbert's just fine when I shoot the rabbit. He rushes over to make sure they are down. Then I collect them. The trouble is when I miss the rabbit. Gilbert sees his job as chasing them.  Well, 10 minutes later one very tired dog comes running back across the trail chasing a mighty tired rabbit. I am not going to shoot a rabbit an inch  in front of my dog's nose so the rabbit gets away and Gilbert wonders whats wrong with me.  But boy can that dog run.  I don't know where he gets his energy.  He drinks up a lot of water when he gets back though.
Four rabbits, not bad for a night.  I got us back before dark and Tom went out and shot another one with his single shot 22. The next day he'd get a couple more.
We cleaned them and threw the guts in the lack to feed the fish and crabs.
We had steak and onions for dinner that night.
The air mattresses didn't work.  It was a hell laying on the cold ground. Tom and I had traded places because he'd not liked the slope.  But I'd depended on my air mattress holding figuring his alone was a problem. But no. Mine leaked too.  In the morning I awoke to something scratching at my face beside the tent wall and Gilbert starting to growl.  I looked out and there was the telltale black and white. A skunk
"Tom, hold Gilbert."  Tom, woke up still asleep and held Gilbert. I went outside to face a tough little skunk with tail lifted giving me the dirty eye.  I quickly found a rock and chucked it at the the sassy little creature. That got him to scoot under the wood pile. He ventured out again to face more rocks from me till he decided heading back into the woods was the better part of valour.
I didn't let Gilbert out and we went back to sleep for another hour.
Another great morning of coffee and reading.
We tried fishing and cursed not having the boat.  The fish were jumping in spite.  With the reeds along the shore we couldn't cast far enough.  No fish.
Tom headed out on the Honda Pioneer we tried called 'chuck' then settled on 'Charles'.  He brought back a couple more rabbits.
Time to take down camp.  We were visited by a family with kids and all on 4 ATV's .  Gilbert had a ball barking up a storm.  Another fisherman came by with a little dog and Gilbert and he peed on every tree together.
I really enjoyed swimming in the lake too.  Twice I stripped and dove in. Perfectly refreshing!
Tom and I got packed up and began the drive home.  We could have stayed a week or two. It was such an idyllic spot. Coming down the mountain the views were incredible.  Canadian wilderness at it's finest.  We crossed the river at the little bridge.  People were swimming and fishing along the banks.  At Merrit we stopped for burghers. The traffic wasn't too bad till about Abbotsford when it slowed right down. Still we were back and had the truck unloaded by evening.
Gilbert was sorry to see Tom his ball thrower go but then went right off to sleep. Tom took the truck to drop off at the diesel shop because it had had the power glyph coming climbing the Coquahalla stretch.  It would turn out to be a turbo problem solved with the replacement of a worn part.  Next time out we'll be bow hunting deer. The deer season is just about on and we're pretty confident that all the equipment is ready first for bow hunting weekend then for the opening rifle hunting weekend. I'm really looking forward to having venison for the winter, not that I'm unhappy about rabbit.  Already I'm planning another rabbit stew in the pressure cooker.  Rabbit makes a great stew, just like venison. Gilbert is going to sleep the week.
Thank you God for your grace and abundance
.

Rabbit Hunting near Kamloops

Another incredible weekend in the woods.  I finished work Friday afternoon and met up with Tom at my place.
Gilbert, my cockapoo, just loves Tom.  Tom has gained his affection by being his designated ball thrower. Whenever he sees Tom he begins barking and running about his legs in circles till he suddenly rushes off to find a ball, returns, drops it at Tom's feet, then does this little mincing dance until Tom throws the ball as far as he can.  Gilbert retrieves it and Tom doesn't lose patience with Gilbert's favourite of favourite games.
Meanwhile we loaded the Ford F350 truck.  I had a new Coleman Weathermaster tent I was looking forward to trying out. I'd bought in sale, regular $350, for $250 at Canadian Tire.  It sleeps six, and has a netted section at the front.
We had the Honda 500 side by side Pioneer in the back of the truck, rifles, sleeping bags, tents, fishing rods, fly rods, pots and pans and cooking geer and the propane Coleman campstove, all piled in the crew cab of the truck.  Gilbert sat on the centre console but had room to curl up on my jacket and computer case in the back which he did.
We were off.  The highway was slow but moving so we were thankful for that.
In Chilliwack we stopped at Tom's to pick up his bolt action single shot  22 rifle and fishing rod with mitchell 300 spincaster.  I'd brought my Ruger Semi Auto breakdown 22 rifle and the Ruger semi auto .223 Min 14.  We remembered the gas cans for the generator and work lamps but made the bad decision to leave the boat and outboard. The fish would be jumping all weekend laughing at us just beyond the reeds and rushes outside the reach of our casts which fowled repeatedly.
"We should have brought the boat," was heard said by one or the other of us more than one that weekend.
We got burgers and Gilbert was happy to get his little paddy along with us.  He's one of the crew and one of the hunt.  Such a great companion.  Enthusiastic about everything when the gang gets together.
At Canadian Tire we picked up Ammo and dog food.  Then at Superstore we stopped for steaks, zuchini, lunch meat, eggs, yogurt, bread, milk, honey and coffee.  The melon was a nice touch.
Tom drove up the Coquahala.  We got to Kamloops after midnight.
We filled up the thermos at Tim Hortons and got a dozen donuts for the last stretch.
Tom found a tiny one lane bridge on the map and saved us an hour driving. Still we didn't get to the lakes until about 2 am, the night drive up a mountain logging road not something to be hurried.
We gave praise to God and thanked Jesus that no one had arrived at the first of our hoped for campsites.  Alot of times I've arrived in wee hours like this after hours on the road only to find other campers or hunters had beaten us to the wilderness sites.  It really is God's country and we know very well we're not the only ones who love the BC backwoods experience.
We got the generator and trouble light and work light going. Then it was the first time putting up the tent.  It was a puzzle. Thankfully it was colour coded and not too difficult. Admittedly Tom is an engineer and I would not have been able to figure out the door poles myself. The door on this tent is genius, one of the greatest camping design advances. I blew up the new air mattresses too.
It was a cool night. Marvellous view of the lake with the almost full moon in a clear sky.  Really the stuff of Canadian dreams.  3 am and we were all snug as bugs. I'd remembered Gilbert's sweater.  He slept most of the night with Tom but visitted me a couple of times.
In the morning, 6 am Gilbert began barking to defend us from the onslaught of an evil squirrel. A squirrel, upset at our presence under his tree had begun bombing the tent with twigs and such. Gilbert was delighted to be up. I was less than excited.  We went back in the tent. Tom hadn't even woken.
Around 9 30 we both got up. Tom was first to get the coffee going.  Then he was kind enough to make delicious bacon and eggs.  The sun was shining. The lake was tranquil. Fish were jumping.  We tried some casting. I was reading a Tom Clancy Net Force novel on my iPhone. Life was good. I'm so glad I brought my recliner.
After a very slow start and much needed relaxation and a second or third cup of coffee we got the Honda Pioneer off the back of the truck so Gilbert and I could go for a drive and reconnaissance.  What fun.  I love the 4x4 Honda. Tom had installed the new windshield and while it wasn't needed in the heat it really did make the cab cozy. I can see using this machine with snow on the ground. The windshield blocks out the wind but also for summer as it was it has the capacity to open and let in a refreshing breeze.
The dust was terrible and less without the windshield so next trip out we took it off.
That evening there were rabbits everywhere again.  I had the Ruger Mini 14 and shot 4.  Gilbert's just fine when I shoot the rabbit. He rushes over to make sure they are down. Then I collect them. The trouble is when I miss the rabbit. Gilbert sees his job as chasing them.  Well, 10 minutes later one very tired dog comes running back across the trail chasing a mighty tired rabbit. I am not going to shoot a rabbit an inch  in front of my dog's nose so the rabbit gets away and Gilbert wonders whats wrong with me.  But boy can that dog run.  I don't know where he gets his energy.  He drinks up a lot of water when he gets back though.
Four rabbits, not bad for a night.  I got us back before dark and Tom went out and shot another one with his single shot 22. The next day he'd get a couple more.
We cleaned them and threw the guts in the lack to feed the fish and crabs.
We had steak and onions for dinner that night.
The air mattresses didn't work.  It was a hell laying on the cold ground. Tom and I had traded places because he'd not liked the slope.  But I'd depended on my air mattress holding figuring his alone was a problem. But no. Mine leaked too.  In the morning I awoke to something scratching at my face beside the tent wall and Gilbert starting to growl.  I looked out and there was the telltale black and white. A skunk
"Tom, hold Gilbert."  Tom, woke up still asleep and held Gilbert. I went outside to face a tough little skunk with tail lifted giving me the dirty eye.  I quickly found a rock and chucked it at the the sassy little creature. That got him to scoot under the wood pile. He ventured out again to face more rocks from me till he decided heading back into the woods was the better part of valour.
I didn't let Gilbert out and we went back to sleep for another hour.
Another great morning of coffee and reading.
We tried fishing and cursed not having the boat.  The fish were jumping in spite.  With the reeds along the shore we couldn't cast far enough.  No fish.
Tom headed out on the Honda Pioneer we tried called 'chuck' then settled on 'Charles'.  He brought back a couple more rabbits.
Time to take down camp.  We were visited by a family with kids and all on 4 ATV's .  Gilbert had a ball barking up a storm.  Another fisherman came by with a little dog and Gilbert and he peed on every tree together.
Tom and I got packed up and began the drive home.  We could have stayed a week or two. It was such an idyllic spot. Coming down the mountain the views were incredible.  Canadian wilderness at it's finest.  We crossed the river at the little bridge.  People were swimming and fishing along the banks.  At Merrit we stopped for burghers. The traffic wasn't too bad till about Abbotsford when it slowed right down. Still we were back and had the truck unloaded by evening.
Gilbert was sorry to see Tom his ball thrower go but then went right off to sleep. Tom took the truck to drop off at the diesel shop because it had had the power glyph coming climbing the Coquahalla stretch.  It would turn out to be a turbo problem solved with the replacement of a worn part.  Next time out we'll be bow hunting deer. The deer season is just about on and we're pretty confident that all the equipment is ready first for bow hunting weekend then for the opening rifle hunting weekend. I'm really looking forward to having venison for the winter, not that I'm unhappy about rabbit.  Already I'm planning another rabbit stew in the pressure cooker.  Rabbit makes a great stew, just like venison. Gilbert is going to sleep the week.
Thank you God for your grace and abundance.

Higher Power, Lower Power

Higher Power is sometimes a hurdle for newcomers to get over.  Their brains have already been hijacked by a religion of Lenthe, drug abuse  and they feel that they are betraying the Lower Power when they even acknowledge a higher power.  They don’t see themselves as knuckle dragging monkeys or recognize that they have a monkey on their back at very least. They’re more like barn yard animals in many of their behaviours than civilized humans. Their self care and personal hygeince and obsession with lust, food or simply hedonistic pursuits has override the program of civilization and culture they might have had before they became the devotee of drugs.
It’s not surprising, even the government wants the marginal and contrary to be addicted.  They carry resentments and didn’t easily fit in somewhere or with someone so have turned their back on most if not all of the human race.  They are great rationalists.  Intellectuals and artists, Deep thinkers.  Couch potatoes and computer fans.  Anxiety is common.
So to grasp a higher power is to acknowledge their slavery to a lower power.  It’s fundamental to accepting a negative state as the naming of it. “I am hungry”.  “I am sick”.  Yet to say I am ‘addicted’ or I am ‘an alcoholic’ is to admit that the lie of many years has been so massive as to realize one is thoroughly duped.  A higher power. There is something ‘else’.
I like the idea better of an inner power.  I get caught up in words and the notion of ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ is confounding.  Yet there is the easter idea of the chakras with spiritual domains in the higher levels.  Errors at the  lower levels are associated with lust and gluttony and sentimentalism.  True love and wisdom are seen as residing in the heart and head regions.  The age of rationalism was associated with the recognition that warriors recovered from wounds of the ‘lower’ regions but if the heart or brain was destroyed there was no life. Hence the association of the ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ at the individual level.
Inner and outer appeals more to me. I like the eastern mantra, “I am the bubble make me the sea”.  There is much on the surface of things that is understood best in the depth.  I am a scuba diver and know that there can be storms on the surface of the sea but below the water there is calm. So there is homeostasis in the centre whereas the outer regions of the body are most responsive to environmental change.
I believe too in Dr. Carl Jung’s conception of the ‘collective unconscious’ .  There is the idea in Emmett Fox of the individual power of the imagination and the Biblical notion of God as creator and prime dreamer.  Sometimes I think that my life is a reflection of the collective prayers or desires of my own life interfaced with a long line of competing desires and prayers resulting in my having this waitlist of responses. While I appreciated my sportscar today it really was my greatest wish as a child.  Fifty years later the object of my teen age desire manifests in my life.
The externalization of my inner self occurs daily. I am more ‘true’ to who I am and less a product of the superficial. Yet when I was younger and thought myself more individual I wore all the uniforms of the day.
Today I resist the propaganda of Climate Change and Globalization and Excessive Government taxation and question the propaganda and mainstream superficial noise of urban culture.  I joined right in as a teen ager never questioning who was ‘picking’ the songs that were ‘sold’ on the radio and what ‘forces’ were behind the ‘peace movement’ and ‘why abortion was good’.
Today I can frankly resist the hurricanes of public opinion and go to the deeper calm within and know that I don’t have to wear the uniforms of our times but rather seek a deeper truth.
I may be wrong but I’m no longer dependent on Hollywood lemming mass cliff seeking.  I can find a balance between the insanity of the isolated genius with angry aberrant thoughts to much the matter of schizophrenia and the selfie seeking crowd pleasing insanity of the shallow social chameleon.  I can find this ‘inner place’ where I believe the ‘higher power’ is as well.
When I am ‘inside’ I am most at home. I find this inside place most in meditation.  Sitting quiet in nature, or churches , and sometimes in libraries I am not alone there but in touch with a consciousness that is like the ocean.  This inner place is my higher power.  I am very thankful for this.  The world is so loud at times. The cacophony of the city communication loudspeaker computers, radios, traffic, all recedes when I enter this inner sanctuary.
There my love is.
There I am loved.

Random Thoughts on the News

The news continues to be more insane than the words of my most insane patients who I see day to day.  The lies of the media are beyond those that the psychopaths, sent to me by the courts, conceive. The competing claims of the various politicians are more fanciful than the insanity of my manic patients. There are countless promises and grand schemes that sound so like the most drug addicted patients who I see still spouting schemes despite being broke and homeless

I remember working in the asylum and a patient telling me that the bars on the window were to keep the world out.

"We're sensitive here and need a place to heal."

I read a book once where a man built walls around a little bit of beach. He put his bed and desk and table on the beach and looked back on the land.  Asked why, he said that it had been a mistake to come ashore and he wanted to divide himself from the world.  He was in his own way giving up on the amphibious and seeking something wholly fishy.

I can't help but think of Walden Pond and Civil Disobedience.  My Chinese friend asked me, "Are these interesting times."  I said yes, knowing what the Chinese say of those.  I believe so.  A curse and a blessing.

The hysteria rises.  The greed and fear of the authorities are palpable.

A genius and wise man told me that there's a struggle by the Globalists for control. They want to rule the world. One World Order.  A great empire of Arendt banality. Bureaucrats who see themselves with power and wealth and little risk to themselves. They are Brussels and Washington and Ottawa and Berlin.

I think of Leonard Cohen's songs. Not Hallelujah. We're getting to that. No, rather 'then we take Berlin.'

Germany has risen again as a caricature, a frightening clown face.

"Hillary is sick and dying. Some say it's Parkinsons.  One doctor insists she has a brain tumour. I think it's just end stage alcoholism but she can't last long.  She has seizures and needs help up stairs and is always falling."

"Do you think they'll attempt an assassination, blame it on Trump.  and then get Cain in."

The name Cain is biblical. The stories of the Torah return.

"It's known George Soros wants to destabilize the west. That's the Islamic invasion. Not for the sake of them but as a means to impose civil war and authority.  Armies invade, like Hitler into Austria, like Putin into Ukraine, like America in to Cuba, claiming to assist  Always they are there to help, not to invade and conquer."

Public perception. Marketing.  The Devil wears Prada.

Climate Change is a hoax.  They're taxing the air we breathe.  All this is true but what's really new? The Emperor has new clothes but in this case it's the Voter has new clothes and everywhere the voting is changed to disenfranchise.

The Chinese shout down reporters. Their anger is palpable like the wrath one feels in the presence of a Hell's Angel Biker when you question the ownership of their motorcycle.

Steal a little and they put you in jail. Steal a lot and they make you king. (Dr. Johnson).

It was ever thus.  So has anything changed.

Yes.  I'm getting older.  I have to pee more often. My right hand shakes from the injury to my cervical nerves from vehicular crashes and carrying books and books and more books by the thousands over the years in a satchel on that right side. Today I try not to carry anything on that side and drink coffee with my left hand.  Getting my hair cut the other day I looked in the opposing mirror and saw that I had a bald patch coming at the rear of my head. I'd be so much aware of the receding hair line that I'd not considered to look on the other side and seen that the age police while kicking down the front door but had staked out the back door as well. There is no escape in this world.

Death stalks. Old age creeps. These are the changes. Not out there. I am reading histories with glee seeing how little has changed. Same play. Different characters. The Bible remains the best though.

Thank you Lord Jesus.

For what is a man advantaged?

KJV Luke 9:25  “For what is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole world, and lose himself or be cast away."
Over and over again I rue the decisions I’ve made which have lost me hundreds of thousands of dollars. The opportunities increase in such a way for any who more forward in righteousness.  I think of the offer for $2000 a day writing prescriptions for marijuana.  I reflect on my friend who said he couldn’t continue to be a corporate lawyer in Toronto and remain a Christian.
I have so many times been ‘tempted’.  Temptation comes as ‘too good to be true’.  It’s like the promises of politicians.  They say that you must give them your money and they will no better how to spend it. Then they give it to strangers who are their friends whereas your friends who are not stranger go without.
In the story of Jesus, the devil tempts him with all manner of power and wealth and privilege but he turns it down as temporary gain choosing instead to honour his father and follow in the godly ways.
It is so tempting to do what is wrong. That which is wrong has that extra appeal.  There’s the pleasure in breaking taboos.  Betrayal has a sweetness too I supposed for betrayal has such appeal for some. I am loyal and loving and thoughtful for this is how I have been taught and over time it remains the way that works best as yet for me.
I spend within my means but my government and especially that child man Justin Trudeau waste money as if it grows on trees. But it doesn’t grow on trees. It comes from my labour.  It comes from the real labour of the working man so that the snake with forked tongue can take it and buy favours with his friends , not for all but for himself and his cronies.  Politics was ever thus, I fear.
I would seek the spiritual. In the depth there is more while on the surface there is ever less.  That said I like the luxuries as well. Having motorcycle and a car is wealth indeed.  I know the truly decadent minimize their wealth comparing themselves always with those with more while belittling those with less and pointing out to them their advantages rather than acknowledging their own.  They are like the friends of Job.
I feel my age.  There is an ennui in much whereas there is a desire to return to those places and activities where joy is remembered.  Youth pulls from behind. Even now I remember a place in a library where I struggled to understand and remember the latest learning preparing to help a person further along the way with the arcane bits of learning I had worked so hard to gain. Now I see that I could have lied and cheated and bullied and formed false alliances and bullied to the same end, perhaps.  Envy and lust and covetousness are found in comparison.  I am truly blessed.
The laughter is less.  I am more wary of the snakes.  Though I have won all the encounters with travail to date this day might well be the one they succeed to maim me.  It has been more often I than them that has caused me pain.  I am my own ‘friendly fire’.  The more I learn of life the more I see that I have stumbled and fallen in the ditch and no one has pushed me.  I have learned so much from the Zen of Motorcycling. It is where one keeps their attention that one goes and I’m forever looking everywhere like the Fool of the Tarot.
The meditator calls this the ‘monkey mind’ but to me it’s more the ‘puppy mind’.  I have the focus in helping another but in my own life I’m less focussed on reward and more focussed on gathering my wits and breath for another flight in the Battle of Britain.  The calls come increasingly in the night and the wee hours of the morning.  The insane sound like screams in a burning building.  I know their are others but more and more I see them turn their backs and I am falling too.  We are aging en mass and there is a turning away.
But I ask myself “For what is a man advantaged? If he gain the whole world or be cast away.?
I once felt outside the love of God and know that this is truly an impossibility but blinding myself I could not find my way back to the light and love.  That was when I knew Grace.  There are those who have not known the love of the Father or the love of the Mother. More and more in high places believe in the lies of Marijuana, Alcohol, Cocaine, Crystal Meth and Opiates.  So many look for the Architect in the Wall.
I am blessed beyond compare. I have known the love of God.  Anxiety is a measure of one’s distance from God.  I watch bodies die as men and women hold in their anger, despair and sorrow.  They are tough and put on brave faces while their blood pressures don’t lie and their eyes show how much the light has gone out and how much they have already died but continue to walk.  Zombies are among us even in high places.  Chameleons are common.  Yet the eyes don’t light and eyes that are lifeless are so tragic.
I am God said.  Asked his name, he said I am.  Being not consuming.  Living not dying. They are subtle in appearance but the difference in depth is akin to the man who built his home on rock as compared to him who builds his home on sand.
I would love God more and do thy will.  Guide me this day.  Hurry me closer to you.  Be with me now that I may know your will and do that which is true.  Thank you God for this day, for all that I know and have.  Bring me deeper into your safety and your love.  Thank you Lord. Thank you God.  Thank you Jesus.

Psalm 32

From Psalm 32, NIV Bible,
“You are my hiding place;
You will protect me from trouble
And surround me with songs of deliverance.'
++++
“Rejoice in the Lord and be glad, you righteous,
sing, all you who are upright in heart."

I love the psalms. When people have been threatening to kill me, kill my dog, or kill my family, I have turned to the psalms for comfort. They were written by David facing all the armies of his enemies and those who were supposedly friends who betrayed him. I am amused that House of Thrones is so popular but it’s really just historic deviance and divide and conquer.
I just read a history of Armenia and that poor kingdom was under attack from either the Greek Christians or Muslems every few years all the while there was internal strife.
 Israel was an attractive e nation along the trade routes.  Armies passed through going each way.  Empires one after another attempted and succeeded in subjugate it.
Canada is a young country that has not known invasions but increasingly our immigrants come from regions where war was a constant.  Of Scottish/Irish  heritage we’d known peace within the British empire for hundreds of years with minor conflicts compared to the later great war.
In Moscow a few years ago I met with a uniform supplier for the Russian army. He said war was big business  and that Europeans had wars every 50 years on average.  All of the nations of the ‘Security Council’ are principal arms dealers and major war concerns. The purpose of the United Nations was to cement the gains and ensure the Allied Empire would remain in charge thereafter.  The “cold war’, was really not so much a war but an ‘arms race’ that culminated in Detente and the fall of the Berlin Wall.
The competition between ‘socialism’ and ‘capitalism’ was won with the fall of the Berlin Wall.  The American model was a model of decentralization, freedom and meritocracy.  The communist model was central control, totalitarian and fear based. It resulted in the ‘mediocrity’ that haunts all socialist countries.  Stalin said that socialism was communism. Marxist socialism was a dyadic (beugeoisie/proletariat, with the aim of continual warfare till the lowest common denominator , the proletariat ruled.  By contrast there was a Scottish socialist model based on triadic principles of three class society which gave rise to the Union movement.  All economies are a mixture of capitalism and socialism.  Historically the collective agreed to serve in those areas where profit was least likely immediate so less attractive to the capitalist investor.  NAZI was socialism and called itself the National Socialist Party.  Ironically today given the propaganda and disinformation the average person does not recognize ‘central’ control as the hallmark of socialism and dictatorship. Yet Lenin, revered socialist, insisted on ‘dictatorship of the proletariat’.
Even in the church there is the central control of the Catholic contrasted with the regional control of presbytery.  The pendulum swings. In Canada we are facing more dictatorship.  Pierre Trudeau threatened the country’s citizens collectively bringing on martial law against all for the action of an few individuals.  The French have historically swung from their love of monarchy or Napoleonic Empire dictatorship to their bloody French Revolution and radicalism.  In almost all the colonies of the French there have been persistent war left for generations while British colonies by comparison have been relatively stable.  As Canada has become ruled by Quebec dictatorship following the increasing reduction in ‘eligible’ political candidacy, first ‘fluent french speakers’ and now pro abortionist only we have become a centralized oligarchy.
The natural appeal of dictatorship is the ‘benign dictator’ is the most appealing efficient government yet ‘power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely’ with Canada increasingly corrupt as a nation, perhaps more corrupt than ever. The Charbonneau Enquiry essentially showed that the Eastern Mafia and Biker Gangs controlled the building of Quebec and naturally as Quebec dominates Canada    the influence of corruption spreads through the nation. Not that western Canada is still “Canada the good’ , once the ‘bread basket of the world’, it’s agricultural achievement today is it’s production of marijuana.
The legal/political byzantine squabbling at the top which each corporation trying to get special deals and own the law makers who are themselves seeking special retirement havens like the world renown Canadian Senate, the best of all Old Age Pension deals for the ‘good friend’ of the wheeling dealing central socialist government, it all seems to the common man like a brawl going on in the sky between gods and goddesses of ancient greece and rome.  These Gods and Goddessess aren’t called Mars and Venus but rather Walmart, Pfizer, de Havilland, Nike, etc.  Meanwhile the Hillary Clinton debate wages to the south and Brexit has escaped from the centralized authority and cancerous bureaucracy of Brussels.  It remains to be seen if England will survive this encounter with the Germans.  The Communist experiment in Babylon fell as has the Islamic Babylon tumbled before Desert Spring.  The struggle remains in the West and China.  Always the Borg meets Captain Picard.
In the midst of all this apparent deceit, corruption and greed, divisiveness and empire, it’s good to turn to the Lord.  The psalms are a comfort.
“You are my hiding place,
You will protect me from trouble.
And surround me with songs of deliverance."
When I attended Regent College Dr. James Houston taught courses on spirituality which we were truly blessed to attend year after year.  He taught that reading all the psalms day after day till they are finished would help one to feel ‘anointed’.  There’s a recurrent theme being lost and found over and over again.  It’s the story of David.
David’s heir was Jesus.
Hallelujah.

As a Canadian I am demonized today

As a Canadian I am demonized today because:
1) I believe in God and Jesus Christ and am demonized for these beliefs.  I am ridiculed and condemned yet I am supposed to accept that those who are so judgemental of theists and Christians are themselves enlightened and tolerant. I am persecuted for my beliefs attacked as ignorant and insane for my faith.
2) I am pro life. Our Justin Trudeau is pro abortion and dictated that no one can be in his government who disagrees with abortion.  I am by this one ultimatum of the petite Napoleon, persona non grata. I am ‘excluded’ by this government who claims to be diverse and inclusive. I have been screamed at and condemned and threatened for simply expressing and holding this belief.
3) I am a scientist and consider the central hypothesis of Climate Change, that the world is heating up principally due to man’s production of hot air purely a political construct with little scientific basis. I believe in Carbon Dioxide, the breath of life for plants and believe the taxation of carbon is a grand scheme of disinformation for political purpose. I have watched ever promise of the Climate Change Cult be proved wrong from Silent Spring’s death by ‘acid rain’ , to the boiling away of the planet by the destruction of the ozone layer, to Al Gore the greatest scientific fool of the century promising the ice caps would be gone by 2015.  All the fish continue to live in the post Silent Spring world, and Mount St. Helena spewed more ozone into the climate than man in man’s life time with no damage to the ozone layer whose hole mysteriously appears to lessening. Now the Ice Caps are alive and well and never before has plant life been so radiant and yet I am demonized for saying that Canada has reached an all time embarrassing low by creating a Department of Climate Change. For a scientist this is like living in a world where the government has created a Department of Scientific Alchemy.  That’s the sleight of hand of Climate Change and because I am opposed to this ridiculous deceit and the even more preposterous claims that the ‘world is going to end’ if you don’t give me more billions of dollars, then I am even threatened as a scientist with incarceration. Scientists simply don’t say other scientists who disagree with them should be put in jail or asylums but totalitarians do.
4) I am a libertarian mostly and against Communism specifically.  I am demonized as a person who faced with the question of the ‘state against the individual’ puts more faith in the individual than the state.  The state has killed more people than the individual and people in groups commonly act poorly compared to an individual. While I respect institutions I’m not naive to the history of the mass killing of innocents by the eurocrats of Communist Russia, Communist China and Fascist Germany.  Yet I am attacked and demonized for not agreeing with the belief in Big Government, Centralization of Authority, Bigger Government and loss rights of regions and individuals.
5) I hunt and fish and kill, clean and prepare my own meat but suddenly those who are fed on mass by the urban butchers and industries of commercial endeavour hold me as somehow evil and primitive and a killer. The effete even approach food as a fashion statement and condemn outright all humans that preceded their experiment in taste. I and the billions upon billions before us are the enemy overnight and these sentimentalists defend the chicken and lamb but not the snake and alligator or even the fish. It’s bizarre how the cuddly are championed but I am those like me who hunt are demonized and suddenly the ‘trophy hunter’ is akin to the gas chamber bureaucrats who gassed children in the wars.  The level of ignorance of the media and the urbanites is frightening because they all don’t seem to know that no food goes to waste in the wild and a ‘trophy’ hunt is about killing the oldest and most likely to die from old age that winter.  More case for protecting veal in the restaurant than from killing the 8 point buck.  Most unusual and outrageously ignorant behaviour in this mass hysteria fueled by urban elitism against all those who living in the country consider eating home grown vegetables and home shot meat as normal as the horrid city person might be considered for going to the 5 star restaurant.  Yet here I am, son of a hunter, grandson of a rancher, raised on wild game and home grown vegetables all my life maligned by the masses as somehow un Canadian.  I am demonized and excluded by those very effete who claim to be non judgemental and inclusive.
6) I am wholly against political correctness which I believe is the language of totalitarianism and goes against all the freedoms which the poor and marginalized have fought for since the origins of the magna carta.  The Politically Correct have always been the ‘courtly’ the fawners, and the psychopaths and sociopaths who chameleon but lack substance and character. I believe in truth by contrast not relative truth but truth, the objective, agreed truth of consensus arrived at by hidden ballot if not by common sense.
7) I believe in democracy and the right of dissent.
I feel increasingly that Canada, once a tolerant nation is intolerant of the familiar, it’s own and it’s forbears and suddenly embraces strangers while condemning me and those like me. I am afraid in Canada today because of the violence of those who powerfully maintain that they are peaceful and loving but are not this to me.

Genesis 1: 27

Genesis 1: 27. So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.
Note here that God’s image is masculine and feminine.  This is the Holy Bible. This is the original genesis story.  There is however a later tale which is considered the addition of much later ‘priests’ which talks about Adam and the rib and Eve coming from the rib.  That’s not the old text but a later text.  Here is the essence of the ‘image’ of God, image being face and God being both masculine and famine as one might describe the omnipotentiality of a stem cell.
There’s always ‘mystery’. The great unknown.  We stand in awe of God because God is us and more.  We are different and alike. There is  within us the connection to God and within us the capacity for creation as the creator.
I find it remarkable studying biology that a neut can regrow it’s tale, that skin heals, that nerves regenerate.  The rate of the process seems limiting but the process is there. We have but to awaken the capacity which is inherent within despite the constant negativity that pours down from above politically and the policing that happen all around us.  We are created in the image of God , male and female.
Image is face but it’s also the root of imagination.  We are the dream within the dream.  We are miraculous and this is all sacred.
Hallelujah!

Genesis 1: 6, 7 8, 9, 10

Genesis 1. 6. And God said,Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.
              1. 7. And God made the firmament , and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so.
              1. 8. And God called the firmament Heaven. And the evening and the morning were the second day.
             1.  9. And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so.
             1. 10. And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering  together of the waters called the Seas; and God saw that it was good.
I find this interesting architecture.  There’s a ‘firmament’ in the midst of the waters.  The firmament is called ‘Heaven”.  There are waters above and below the firmament.  Isn’t this unusual.  Dry land appears but the dry land isn’t the firmament and gathering together of the waters is the seas. But what of the water above the firmament.  What is this ‘water’ , this dynamic, above the heavens.  It’s a mystical conceptualization.  Heaven is a dividing place.  There’s been so often a flat earth with flat sky interpretation but that’s not what’s written in the Bible. There’s a distinctly different message here and a different cosmos than commonly taught in Sunday school. What is this firmament that is called Heaven.  And what are these ‘waters’ which are above and below and become apparently when gathered together both earth and seas.  Sounds very quantum physics to me.

The above is the King James Bible, an early interpretation when men were closer to the sacred and the world wasn’t digitalized and separate with fear so much today. The historical revisionism of the past assumes an ethnocentricity and states ‘we’re superior, they’re primitives’ but even the studies today, unbiased as such, show that the dark ages and medieval times were not nearly so ignorant or unhappy as the ‘modern’ mind would have.  I loved the “Cloud of Unknowing” from the medieval times.  But King James Bible is an interpretation and my study of hebrew shows it much deeper and more profound than ‘new’ language and scientific English known for it’s accounting capacity and recording capacity more than it’s poetic and illumination capacity. Old languages likes Hebrew, Sanskrit, Aramaic all served first and foremost the purpose of communication and less the purpose of empire which came later and ultimately science and banking which came even later.  Poetry, song, story telling and prophecy are early roles for the old language.  Much like the Old English of Chaucer which is not that very old at all but seems to a large degree untouched by the rigors of Francis Bacon. Modern theoretical physics and the psychology of the unconscious of Jung and Freud have more in common with the old than the high school or college scientific depiction or the language of law and accounting. They’re different.  Very different. Not necessarily superior or inferior but with a different purpose and a different meaning.
The NIV is the latest translation.  It’s definitely more ‘modern’ and very much less poetic than King James Version. It’s written by people more differentiated from their surroundings, more separate and apart than any one was in the time of King James.  Today we are atomized and alienated in a way which would have been inconceivable to earlier generations where kinship with family and community was the rule.

Genesis 1. 6. And God said, “Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water."
              1. 7. So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it. And it was so.
              1. 8. God called the vault “sky”. And there was evening and there was morning, the second day.
              1. 9. And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered in one place, and let dry land appear.” And it was so.
             1. 10 God called the dry ground “land”, and the gathered waters he called ’seas’. And God saw that it was good.
Isn’t this amazing. The ‘firmament’ becomes a ‘vault’. The waters are still above and below the ‘vault’ and the gathering of water still produces ‘land’ and ’seas’ but the ‘heavens’ now becomes ’sky.’  Frankly I don’t like the idea of the ’sky’ being a ‘vault’ or that even the translation by the moderns is close to that of the ancients likely captured better as ‘heavens’.  But this does show the significance of translation and interpretation.
In the Bible a hebrew world for Heavens and a Hebrew word for Sky might well be interchanged but here a ‘vault’ and a ‘firmament’ seem distinctly different so one wonders if the translators even had the same text. A Jewish Scholar might sort this out. The interpretation and translations of the Bible get complicated by which ‘folio’ or ‘book’ and which bit of which book is used.
But it’s a mystery isn’t it.  A really deeply moving mystery which one must get is some kind of mystical and intuitive conceptualization of the beginning of the world handed down by oral traditions for thousands of years and then written and re written and translated and interpreted for thousands more.  Yet most people think they ‘know’ Genesis.  I do or did but keep returning to ponder, what is this water that is above and below ‘heaven’ or even ‘sky’.  That sure does sound like Plank and Einstein.  The emptiness of outer space isn’t empty but here on earth there is a ‘gathering’ a greater density of the fabric of the universe, the space between the stars and this ‘gathering’ can be land or sea.  But what is this ‘vault’ , this ‘firmament’ and what is ‘heaven’.  I really don’t think it’s just sky. Even a ‘vault’ is a thing that holds something. I would say more than ‘sky’.  A vault is a receptacle for ‘souls’ perhaps or another enclosed space. For what purpose.
When I look at Hebrew translation for Heavens I found a marvellous article in Spectrum, “Then Genesis Account: Six Hebrew Words Make all the Difference. Brian Bull and Fritz Guy, ‘Translating Backwards,” in God, Sky and Land: Genesis 1 as the Ancient Hebrews Heard It.
The Hebrew word ‘shemayim’ may mean: heaven, sky, visible heavens, heaven as realm of the stars.  It was thought that in 1530 the physics of the sky was a dome with stars and sun moving back and forth across it.  Today we think of universe, and sometimes heavens is translated in modern times as ‘cosmos’ or ‘universe’ concepts unknown by Tyndale and unknown in 1530 and likely supposedly unknown at the time of the biblical writing.  I ‘m not so sure of the later but the modern translation chose ‘sky’ as a limited ‘choice.
raquia, the hebrew word means “extended solid surface, vault of heaven supporting waters above, firmament, dome, vault.
Aha, there is this agreement here
I won’t get into the other 4 words but this ‘vault’ and ‘firmament’ seems satisfactorily explained in a limited ‘architectural’ way but there’s still no clarity around this ‘water’ idea.  There’s also persisting ‘ethnocentricity’ which suggest we know physics and creation better than the ‘intuitive’ or ‘ancients’. Interestingly much of modern science has ‘confirmed’ the ‘insights’ of the ancients. This was seen when MRI’s and CTScans and Functional MRI”s supported to a large extent the insights that psychoanalysts had gained. They simply weren’t wholly ‘new’ ideas but rather built on the ‘observations’ and the ‘meditations’ of the people of before.
When I look for Biblical translations of the meaning of ‘waters’ I find that Genesis is said to use it in the idea of it’s two forms, one of the oceans, a symbol of death and the other as conventional water, a symbol of life.  Water to a dessert people is ‘life giving’.  There is life above and below the ‘vault’ so again there’s this image of heaven separating two ‘worlds’.
We pass to the other side in death. Our pets meet us at ‘rainbow bridge’.  Death be not proud. The Christian idea of this world is that of a kindergarten. Kierkegaard described this life as ‘suffering to death’.  People have thought of this life as the real purgatory and the future life of heaven or hell.  Heavens are this other place of life creating waters or the place between.  The Tibetans describe a ‘bardo’ or passing through place between reincarnations while the Hebrew describes
Strongs concordance describes the word as stemming from the Hebrew “mayim’ meaning water or waters, masculine noun.  Interesting this symbol of life and death or simply of life should be ‘masculine’ in the Hebrew which tends to be patriarchal.  Matriarchal society predates the later patriarchal society and then the patriarchal predates the matriarch.  They’re rather cyclic that way.  But translations then occur in the midst of cycles and understandings are influenced by the fashion of the day and perception of the day. Later they are interpreted through the lens of the listener or reader.
The Hebrew ‘Shamayim” was one part of the Hebrew three part cosmology, the others being ‘berets’ , the earth and ‘sheol’ the underworld.  Sheol is the ‘underworld’ where both righteous and unrighteous go and is mostly described as rather colourless.  However Isaiah describes it as the name of a ruler of the underworld which may be something different and the Elohim can save one from the Sheol. Sheol is feminine which takes us back to the patriarchy of Hebrew.  But was this Sheol a creation of the earlier matriarchal times or later patriarchal times.  One ‘descends’ in death whereas in the new testament Jesus ‘ascends’ to heaven.  The Christian believes more in ‘ascent’ to heaven in general whereas as the Jew definitely descends.

It’s seems like nit picking but when I look on the internet I’m delighted to see others also ‘struggle’ with the ‘conceptualization’ which is a form of advanced meditation practice especially in the ‘mindfulness’ traditions. It’s contemplative and together old men gather to simply consider these points and together’ experience’ the meaning of ‘where two or more are gathered there too shall I’.




           

Genesis 1. 1,2,3

Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
              1: 2 And the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.
             1: 3  And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

It seems straightforward when read as simply metaphors  But when I stop to un pack the very beginning of the Bible and creation it’s far from straightforward.  What is heaven?  What is earth?  We pray, as Jesus taught, Our Father who aren’t in heaven.  Heaven seems to be inward.  God isn’t ‘out there’ but rather ‘in here’.  The eastern mystics chant, “I am the bubble, make me the sea.”  Dr. Carl Jung used a similar idea of the ‘collective unconscious’.
I always ask, what did God ‘create from’.  There was only God so all creation is God stuff.  Later we see God dividing parts, separating but here it’s just creation.
The earth was without form refers to the stuff like clay which we later use as a metaphor too, describing God as a potter.  Those are old world metaphors. Today we’d see God as the great chemist and physicist.  The stuff of DNA and the Periodic Table are the first ingredients of the soup and/or Big Bang.  Creation is spectacular.
But what of ‘darkness was on the face of the deep’.  What is the deep.  Again the image of face and deep.  The superficial and deep. The deep was dark like any problem or any challenge. The simple is apparent.  But the underlying message often appears hidden. Ad here it is.  The deep seems to be God or heaven in my mind.  The Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.  Earth formless is water?  Where did the water come from?  Now we have the division of the God into God and Spirit.
(The issue further is ‘translation’.  Studying Hebrew I find that there is thousands of years of meaning and usage caught up in each of these words.  There isn’t agreement in full on any of these principal parts.  The very language of the ancients is dynamic and more inclusive.  Today we have countless words and meanings but in the beginning with simply fewer words then these fewer words meant more.  So reading the first lines of the Bible and thinking, I know that, is rather arrogant.  There is so much more ‘unknowing’.  At most I feel there is a finger pointing or a ‘wee small voice’.  I look and listen.  And pray.)
Finally God speaks and says “Let there be light: and there was light."
Aha!

Last of the Venison

I defrosted the last Venison roast.  I cut 4 steaks from that piece and barbecued them.  Coupled with Microwave baked potatoes with fresh butter and brussel sprouts Gilbert and I had a scrumptious meal. He stuck with bits of steak I gave me while I consumed everything.  Delicious.
I put one steak in a ziploc for a venison sandwich this week.
I shot one deer last year and it’s lasted a whole year.  I think of it as special so don’t eat it all up. Normally though I’m finished a deer by spring.  A moose or elk can last a couple of years.  This was a small deer but nonetheless it was special like all wild game.
Now I’ve got half a roast to cut up in stew meat for stew, curry or chilli.  I have the pressure cooker to use. Then I have rabbit from a couple of weekends back.  We’ll be bow hunting deer in only a few weeks.  I’d hoped to catch some fish but just haven’t had the time or inclination to get out fishing.  The seasons not over.
My nephew is gardening up a storm. My brother and sister in law have been watering plants for an hour a day to keep them alive while Ontario has had weeks of a drought that just broke.  We grew up on Dad’s ducks, moose, venison, rabbits and partridge and mom’s garden.  I’ve been raised that way. When we had the acreage I raised my own chickens, geese, ducks, and turkeys.  I don’t miss the poultry as much as I miss the eggs. I’d love to have a half doze Arcana laying hens about. I just loved their delicious little eggs.
It’s a long way from my years as a strict vegetarian and then a lacto egg vegetarian.  I don’t really miss that though I learned a lot about food those years.
Thanks to a very kind man I’ve been gifted with an English wild game cook book and I am looking forward to having venison and partridge to practice with. I’ll probably use it when I make the next rabbit stew.  The pressure cooker should make the meat tender, something rabbit benefits from, though historically it was usually just cooked till the meat peeled off. That’s how I made rabbit stew when I lived in the country.  It’s had been a decade or so since I’d  shot a rabbit so I really did enjoy the rabbit stew Tom made when we were out camping and came across so many.
Thank you God for your bounty.