Friday, November 24, 2017

Almost, Maine by John Cariani at Pacific Theatre

It was hard to get off the couch but worth it.  Season’s tickets to Pacific Theatre is an annual joy. Gets me out time and again for the best theatre and best culture Vancouver has to offer. This night was no different. I don’t know John Cariani. I should. He’s a truly brilliant playwright.  Almost, Maine was a series of love vignettes, theatre’s equivalent to the ballet pas de dieux.  Small town.  Whimsical, hilarious, touching, moving.  Young love. Loss and some sadness but mostly joy.   I loved the actors Peter Carlone, Kim Larson, Giovanni Mocibob, Baraja Rahmani, Jalen Saip. Director Kaitlin Williams is to be celebrated.  A wonderful experience. Thank you Pacific Theatre.


I loved the mystical medieval text “The Cloud of Unknowning”.  It speaks to the humility of wisdom.
Jesus taught, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
Children are curious.
I am curious about God.
Martin Buber the great Jewish philosopher in his book, I and Thou, discussed the centrality of the question, what is the ‘Other”.  If I accept that I am not alone and that reality is not a ‘figment of my imagination’ then I ask, what or who is the Other.
We know that children developmentally first consider themselves one with their mother.  The umbilical chord is cut and psychologically and sociologically they separate in time to being individuals separate from their mother. They move along to separating from their families, their communities, and ultimately humanity. This is the process called ‘individuation’.  While they are in ‘relation’ with all others, they are also separate and apart,  increasingly ‘alien’.  Individuation and alienation go hand in hand.  The natives describe themselves ‘in relation’.  This is fundamentally the universal social development of  ‘tribal’ consciousness.
 The  Modern Age beginning circa 1850 in the West introduced the Industrial era and what today is fast becoming the era of technology.  The age of Rationality and intellectualism later with the individuation of gender because the age of Emotion and Emotionalism  which continues today. Ironically cognitive behavioural therapy teaches we ‘feel what we think’ and the post modernists believe this age of ‘emotionalism’ and ‘subjectivity’ somehow different continue in the past ‘age of rationalism’ albeit by a different name. More advanced  theorists posit “postmodernism”  simply ‘ultra rationalism.”  The age of rationalism was what gave rise to the ‘war to end all war’ and the failure of the ‘intellectualism” as it created the aetheist killing machine of communism and the world wars of Europe. The age of emotionalism has simply extended this era with the growth  of the United Nations.  Big Daddy is replaced by Big Mommy or Big Brother by Big Sister. Alienation and entropy grew.
Intellectually Kaffka wrote the Metamorphosis ,the classic novel of ‘alienation’, a culmination in intellectualization and individuation of abject navel gazing.  Man as insect.
Psychopaths were seen by McLean as having ‘lizard brains’ and not developing further to the more advanced animal and human brains of the “Triune Brain”.
The corporation,  as this has also been called the age of corporation, the new political entity that replaced the medieval baronies and duke ships, family and tribal based entities of the past  , is considered by modern law as a ‘legal individual’.  Star Trek compared  the Corporation as the “Borg”, the image of Corporate or Communist or Socialist conquer.  Assimilation in the Era of Technology.
Dr. Robert Hare , foremost authority on psychopathy, discussed the lizard developmental level of sociopath and compared this to the present nature of the Corporate legal model, in the documentary “Corporations.” The world today is a ‘legal’ judicial construct based on 15th century  model of social reality without the individual ‘relationships’ of that earlier age, wholly a construct of the failed ‘age of rationalism’ ultra modernist emotional and political, masquerading under the fancy name ‘post modern’. It is merely a construct of alienation.
By contrast the original hypothesis of relation begins with:
God and I.
I and Thou.
I and the Other
Am I alone?
Does the butterfly think the philosopher? Or does the philosopher think the butterfly?
I am born in blood and piss and shit and die in blood and piss and shit. Ashes to ashes. But is my soul solely this body.
Neuroscientist   Mario de Beuregaard elegantly ,with PET Scan and Carmelite Nuns meditating showed that we are more than ‘brain’ of materialism.  His book “The Spiritual Brain, A Neuroscientists Case for the Existence of the Soul” suggest much more than the reductionist aetheist materialist position of “Brain in Petrie dish” as  self.  The brain is but a tool of Self or Soul.
Genesis 1:26 states “God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness.”
Modern quantum physics and string theory posit a matrix of energy that we are apart of, no one disconnected in reality, but rather interconnected, not the fear and superstition based ‘tribal’ relations of old described so well by Jared Diamond in The World Until Yesterday, What Can We Learn from Traditional Societies .but rather in the love based matrix of the intuitive, beyond reason and emotion.
Grace is the idea of God as actively divine.  The Hound of Heaven poem by Francis Thompson described well the Modern Age of Intellectualism and Rationality and Emotionalism of the Post Modern Ultra Modern era.
“I fled Him, down the nights and the day. I fled Him down the arches of the years. I fled him, down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind......I hid from Him, and under running laughter up vistaed hopes I sped.....from those strong feet that followed, followed after. But with unhurrying chase, and unperturbed pace , deliberate speed, majestic instance, They beat - and a Voice beat more instant than the feet - “all things betray thee, who betrayed me”.
The greatest image of Man and God is the Old Testament of the Bible book, Solomon’s Song of Songs, “I am my beloved and my beloved is mine”.  It is the story of young love.
1 John: 4.8 in the New Testament of the Holy Bible says ,”Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is Love.”
The sociopath, or psychopath are shallow. Whatever power or influence they have, what ever they appear like, what ever their selfies show, remains to be seen ,simply because only the ‘loving” know God.  To Love is to know God. Like a child playing hide and seek.  Curious about that which is unknown and unknowable. Humble. The arrogant and the all knowing, the judgemental and the superior cannot know God for God is Love.
The energy of the universe that binds us is LOVE.
In science, “Entropy is a thermodynamic concept that represents chaos and degradation. It occurs naturally in any physical system and will naturally grow (i.e. become more chaotic) if we don’t do something to arrest it’s growth. Doing something requires the expenditure of energy, so energy is what counters entropy.”
Love is as love does. Love is a verb not an object.
The first law of thermodynamics is the “law of conservation of energy”. The law of conservation of energy states that the total energy of an isolated system is constant, energy can be transformed from one form to another, but can neither be created nor destroyed.”
God is Love and Love never really dies. Love is eternal and infinite whereas fear is by nature, finite.  Love conquers all.
The dance of love is the simply the dance of “I and Love”. Or “I and God”.  “I and One”.
The one becomes many.  That’s the great hide and seek of God and central to the idea of Love Your Enemy. This doesn’t mean let your enemy kill you because Jesus did say, Love God and Love your neighbour as yourself.  Loving oneself doesn't involve letting oneself be killed and thereby turning one’s neighbour into a killer. The disciples of Jesus wore swords. The monks of the east learned martial arts to protect themselves from the unenlightened. We teach children manners and how to play without hurting. Sentimentalism is a caricature of caring.
Only the humble can know God.  God is the first spark in the flame, for even a thought comes a nano second later, as neuroscience teaches so well.
I know and feel and intuit God’s love and endeavour today to love as God loves.

Thursday, November 23, 2017

Gratitude Thursday

Thank you God that I am past the hump of Wednesday in the long and often debilitating soul destroying work week. Thank you that none of my patients died this week in the fentanyl epidemic.  Thank you that my dreams are not disrupted with nightmares.  Thank you that I have work. Thank you that I slept through the night. Thank you that my blind dog greeted me with wagging tail and wanting to play ball. Thank you that the crazy cat was rubbing against my legs as I made coffee and cleaned dishes. Thanks for running water. Thanks for electricity and light and heat. Thanks for propane and heat. Thanks for the rain for the plants sake. Thanks for my vehicle for the awful commutes.

Thanks for the day. Thanks for the prospect of a weekend to catch up on so many things that have overwhelmed me these last weeks. Thanks that I got book keeping done yesterday. Thanks for the meeting. Thanks for the persisting health of a good old friend just out of hospital after 2 months.  May he rally.  Thanks for the friendly faces and the crowds of good people I saw yesterday reminding me that the zombies haven’t won.  I liked the bright eyes and warmth.

Help me Lord to know what to say when people ask “Do you remember me or say You don’t remember me or ask me if I remember their names.”  I don’t know Lord but increasingly ‘put on the spot’ and ‘ambushed’ I feel traumatized like I’m back in school and the teacher pulls a ‘surprise test’.  All of the testing and the constant questioning and never being perfect as demanded by the authorities and state which is failing everywhere troubles me.  I feel like I will be glad to go to my grave if only to get away from the masters who say I’m stupid and uneducated and insensitive and not good enough.  I feel weighted down by the bullying and toxicity and constant condemnation always coupled with the smug Monday morning quarter back attitudes of judges and apparatchiks who insist by their arrogance that if they were there they’d have done better. I feel the strain of personal failure for not wearing a tie or not having cut my hair while I’ve day in day out for decades gone above and beyond the call of duty only now to be called a fool, a workaholic and somehow diseased to not have had balance. And why don’t I drive a better car and why don’t I live in a mansion and what a failure I am not to be like them.

Forgive me Lord for listening to them and letting them get under my skin with their threats and sanctions and condemnation. I am so thankful for the people who thanked me this week for saving their lives.  I was thanked by someone for showing up for work and appreciated that. “I”ve not been able to face this world for months. I appreciate your seeing me. You’re never been mean to me and that’s all I’ve known these last years.  “. I was thankful to hear that.  

There’s ample evidence that I am a worthy human.  I shouldn’t feel that I am ‘stupid’ because I disagree with almost everything that Trudeau stands for. I shouldn’t think that I’m ‘uneducated’ because I find the Laurier University administration fascist communist and frightening and that in Canada such gross administrative bullying is so common.

Help me avoid the propaganda of media. Help me turn off the internet and the radio and avoid the fake news papers in Canada but rather listen to pod casts of medical research and read the Bible verses and remember that this too will pass.

How strange to mingle with friends and talk about whose died and think how soon it will be before we’re considering whose still alive.  I’ve had so many older friends and I have younger friends too but I am only aware of my friends ages by their illnesses.  These storms are before me. Whatever waters I’m sailing in now are nothing compared to those of others. Thank you Lord for my relatively calm seas. Thank you that my boat still floats. Help me to get back to following winds and safe harbours. 

Our father who aren’t in heaven hallowed be thy name, 

Grant me the serenity.

Be still

All shall be well.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Advent is near

My Lord cometh.  In the deepest darkest nights of the winter year a remembrance of a baby’s birth is celebrated at Christmas. Not a God from a far. Not a machine like presence. No cog in a wheel. But a God become human in the womb.  A visitting God reviewing his creation and the co creators he made.  Obviously not all were good.  Among his own he couldn’t gather even 10 Good men. As one was too fond of money as those who are addicted to money are. The power seekers and the crows who like the shiny.  One day he would say you must give up your wealth to follow me to one who was addicted to gold and pomp but wanted too the love that was this God.
Do not be afraid, he said.  Love God. Love your father as yourselves.  I am the son of God. I am the son of Man.  From his teachings the trinitarian God was born. For when he left this one with the father son of God said he’d send the Holy Spirit to comfort us.
When I think of Jesus Christ, a name which means ‘god within’ and ‘god will come again’, I remember I’m not alone and that my life is playing hide and seek with God. When I forget the spiritual I am sucked into the morass of the material.  I lose sight of the incredible lightness of being in the gravity of the earth dwellers.
God is love.  God is omniscient and omnipotent, transcendent and imminent.  When I am still I know God. Be still and know that I am God. I run this refrain through my mind as a reminder. I can be one with God in such a moment
In advent I celebrate the coming of Christ. The coming of Christ is the coming of light.  In winter we fear the sun will not return. The superstitious childish ancient fear that this is the last of summer and the last of days comes over me in the darkness of the rain. Driving home at night I am troubled.  In the morning I can celebrate the dawn but by the time I leave my work the dusk is gone and it’s as if the sun has been stolen. I feel already like I’m back in the arctic with hardly a few hours of daylight.
Constantine worshipped the sun before he became a follower of Christ.  Love is light.
“Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for Thou aren’t with me.”
I had that sense once of being alone. I’ve been so often alone without people but for a moment I thought that I was outside the sphere of God. I’d become so hardened and scarred and had like Satan turned my back on God. I was fascinated by my own shadow. How big it seemed. But then I turned around and again began walking towards the light and didn’t feel alone again.
Amazing Grace. “I was lost but now I’m found”
I love the idea of Grace. That I the seeker of God am being sought. I’m chased by the hound of heaven. Even today the Birth of Christ is coming at me as I am slouching as a beast towards Bethlehem.  I don’t feel particularly good. I value truth and live in a world of increasing lies and those who don’t even know their lies.  Worse there are those entrusted with the protection of truth who have fled from their service, bought for so few pieces of silver.  But then who am I to judge? So often I have denied God even before the cock had but crowed.
I am a ‘sinner’. To sin is to miss the mark.  I do that which I don’t want to do and I don’t do that which I want to do. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. The ‘outcome analysis’ of my endeavours shows the deviations that are still me.  I am flawed though seek perfection , impatient when I would be patient, unkind when I would be kind, quick to rage when I would be more forgiving, speaking when I would be silent. The list is endless.
I pray today that I might be the man my dog thinks I am. I pray today that I might be more loving and kind. I pray to day that I would expand my personal kingdom in service of you. I pray that I could be a better follower and be better in my work and service.
Christ above me. Christ below me. Christ behind me. Christ beside me. Christ in front of me. Christ around me. Protect me Lord.
I pray that I do the best and be the best in my person and my work that I can be this day.  Thank you Lord for all your blessings. Thank you for my parents and family, my teachers and my friends. Thank you for this life Lord, this sacred and wondrous adventure.  Thank you Lord Jesus. Thank you God. Holy Spirit Come!

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Pull Tab Justin Trudeau Doll

I have been listening to PM Justin Trudeau in question and answer period in Ottawa and am not certain he is sentient.  Given the remarkable success of the Trudeau selfie card board cut outs is it not possible that the Trudeau used in question and answer period is indeed a pull tab Trudeau doll?
Given the liberal lack of intellectual stamina indicated by their difficulties with computer payroll schemes and obvious difficulty with big numbers such as budgets, the 60's cardboard cut out did seem to use up their collective creativity at the time.   However this 70's pull tab doll in parliament suggests the progressives are finally making some progress despite all the evidence to the contrary.

What ever question Justin Trudeau is asked he answers with a propaganda pitch reminiscent of the pull cord doll toys.
Question: What is 1+1?:
Answer: “I believe the Liberals are doing a great job. We believe in diversity and  climate change. We are helping women,  aboriginal people and refugees. "
Question: "Is there gravity? Mr. Trudeau?"
Answer: “I believe the Liberals are doing a great job. We believe in diversity and  climate change. We are helping   women , aboriginal people and refugees."

The oddest program though is the sock program.
Question: “Is the sun an orb?"
“I believe the Liberals are doing a great job.  We believe in diversity and climate change. We are helping women,  aboriginal people and refugees. Do you like my socks?"

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Saturday Night at Home

There’s George the cat stretching on the Istanbul camel hair rug. He enjoys the heat of the electric fireplace. Gilbert, the blind cockapoo has been playing fetch. Well, not just fetch. His own adaptation. I fetch it then he plays ‘seek’.  It takes a lot longer for the ball to return. I love his little wagging tail.  He gives me a break every once in awhile stopping to chow down on kibbles from his bowl.
I’ve just watched Interstellar. Second time round. Better this time I think.  I’m watching re runs more often older and enjoying them.  I’ve been reading Dan Brown’s “Origen” and very much enjoying that.  Since I first read Da Vinci Code before the movie I’ve read all of Dan Brown’s books. I’m glad for the new one. Like the Star Trek Discovery.  I’d pretty much settled into a rut of NCIS, Big Bang Theory, Hawaii 5.0 and Blue Bloods until that new Star Trek appeared. I look forward to Sunday night for each episode. The other TV just seems to be on when I’m eating or bored.
I swam yesterday. I’ve been walking Gilbert 2 sometimes 4 times a day. He comes a long with me most places but in addition we walk some.  The rest is work. Work seems to take more time during the week with the hour long commutes.
I”m grateful. I’ve been praying thankfully a lot but soul tired.  `The Fake News and News are tedious.  Some days I feel at ground zero for WW3.  The Communists and Fascists joined forces before the last war.  Now they seem to be doing the same.  Archaic legal political systems with cutting edge science.  I’d be happier if we were doing more to get to Mars. I’d hoped to visit in my life time.  Instead of ‘watching ‘ safe’ Survivor series we might instead be in the action of actual expansion and colonization.  The day will come.
I’m struggling with suicide and the microcosm macrocosm of life and death wishes.  Are they wishes or simply competing forces.  I do wonder about death and after life. The rise in aetheism, materialism’s and consumerism go against the spiritual and transcendent. I am an idea and love. This entity of self is what I know.  I feel contained and constrained in an artificial limition of self with the capacity to go so much beyond this sometimes prison.
I love watching the Camille Paulia and Christina Hoff Summers dialogue. There were a number of good presentations I came across that gave me hope.
I had thought to go out tonight to an event or a meeting. I could be with others but it’s been a fairly busy day, shopping, doing chores.  Tomorrow there’s church and we’re having a party for friends leaving. Laura is with her niece whose leaving too. I think of sailing a lot.  I long to face the Atlantic.  Then there’s this fifth wheel. I’ve the enorsement tests to do.  I barely did the phone calls and paper work this week, there was just so much of it. The toxic workplace is frightening. The new politics of ‘induced paranoia’.  We talk among ourselves about everyone being offended. The shock troops of the dying nation.  I worry about every nuance of speech, fear speaking, feel scripted, inauthentic.  I have been told that I am at work to do the least.  Here take this pill.  How are your bowels?  I worry I won’t be able to be minimalist.  I worry that will offend.  I’m utterly exhausted at the end of the day, watching my back, looking over my shoulder, seeking approval of the authorities, attempting desperately to not offend. I worry too that this is my future, people like I’m trying to be, caring for me.  It’s twisted but I don’t know what to do.  Carrying on.  Euthanasia on the horizon.
I thought what I did was ‘service’. I volunteered for the toughest assignments. Did the decades and some of education and more.  Did more education.  Did more service.  But to them it’s just a job.  I’ve taken life all too seriously.  I wonder at the metaphors that others live by.  These new aetheists, communists and activists.  They talk so much of power and so little of truth.  I spent my life trying to understand and healing. I did my best to do good.  I’ve danced with the devil over and over again and walked so many miles in others shoes. And it just comes down to they’ve got the guns, prisons, asylums and money and how alone I feel at times.
Then I turn to God and promises.  I really am blessed.  Grace is good to me.  God is Good. Life is good.  I am so thankful for my dog, for the cat, for this place with indoor plumbing, heat, and a refrigerator with food. I cooked a venison chilli with the deer I shot last year. I froze it all and took some out last night to microwave.  It was delicious.  What a wonder to eat a living creature I’ve shared with untouched by other hands, respected, blessed, touched, a mystical gift. Then add to that cans of tomato and beans and fresh celery , carrots, zucchini, garlic and onion.  I bought the vegetables from a little market near here where big trucks bring fresh produce daily.  I’ve been enjoying local apples too.  I left the propane stove on low simmer till it was tasty, a little under done so that the microwaving would finish the process.   I’m thankful to have the means to do this, the training, skills , the eperience.
I’ve met others with skills while I see so many addicts who have spent their lives in search of pleasure.  A false pleasure.  This time now brings me joy.  I’ve a cat rubbing against me.  He was asleep and now is awake. The dog is sleeping with a ball at his nose.
It’s been raining. I’m yawning and looking forward to my warm and comfortable bed.  The critters often join me initially but prefer to sleep on the floor once they’re comfortable I’m not leaving the bed.  These are idyllic times.  I hear Crosby Stills Nash and Young singing “our house’ in the distance.  Thank you.  I enjoyed seeing friends on face book, their activities, gatherings, interests and birthdays. I like the animal stories too.  The politics isn’t as vapid and loud.  This may be the lull before the storm.  But it’s just as likely things will muddle along as they do.
I’m thankful.  Thank you.

Friday, November 17, 2017


“I am offended by a blank wall, and if you are not equally offended, I’m even more offended,” Dr. O taught.
A central feature of a personality disorder is an externalized ‘locus of control’.  Developmentally such a person is fixated before the development of self awareness, at a time when their emotional senses are attributed to the environment.  Some theorists say that they have not severed the umbilical cord remaining as an infant emotionally despite outwardly having an adult body and lizard like intellectual development.  
Sociopaths use such individuals as weapons, shields and battering rams for their own personal agendas of greed and self agrandisement. Such sociopaths can claim to be helping these individuals while using them to advance their own power with plausible deniability.
In political jardon these individuals constitute a significant portion of what were called  ‘useful idiots’ or ‘useful fools’.
Like sociopaths they have superego lacunae and lack  the capacity for empathy. Given sociopaths commonly use such individuals for camouflage it’s worthwhile to to think of them as part of the sociopath ‘nest’.
Among emotionally healthy individuals these developmentally delayed individuals would grow and adapt but among sociopaths their disability is sadly tragically capitalized and promoted.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Cariboo Lodge, Clinton and BC Hunting

We had so hoped to meet up with young Mewhort and his hunting wife. We’d all made plans last year but mandatory work arose and I missed them.  They shot a deer.  I shot a rabbit.  I usually shot a moose when I was with the young Mewhort’s father. Indeed it was nearly 30 years ago I shot my first moose at Circle H Ranch in Clinton.
This trip was a joy. A great drive north leaving the maddening city of Vancouver for God’s Country of British Columbia.  Friday afternoon. Laura and I had completed morning clinics and blind Gilbert was excited to be on a hunting trip.  The 2017 Ford F350 Lariat edition truck is a joy to drive.  The 450 km of driving, starting in light in the valley ending in dark on the plateau.  I love passing the tumble weeds.  I’ve travelled up and down the canyon for 4O years. I came first to Vancouver by that route as a child a decade before that with my father driving, my brother and I awed first by the Rockies then this great river passage.
I’d booked ahead with the Cariboo Lodge. Great people. Great accommodation.  I remember when I was young how much I loved the happy loud pub music and dancing. Older I just love the food and hospitality. This time we had rooms in main lodge, log cabin walls.  I was even able to order a Cariboo special pizza when I signed in.
While we’d missed the young Mewhort’s,  Derek and Naomi were there this weekend.  We’d been at their amazing wedding with the incredible ballroom dance routines that reminded me of my youth.   When I saw Derek I said, ‘You know we’re the losers. The other hunters and us are here because we’ve not got game earlier in the season.”  This was the last spike moose and 4 point mule deer weekend.  Princeton, where I might otherwise have hunted was already closed for moose.
Since we were both hunting Derek and I were up at 5 am and headed out at 6 am.  I almost immediately shot a white cotton tail with my Argentinian 20 gauge.  While Derek had shot bear he’d not shot a rabbit and I was delighted to show him how to clean one. Memories of my father and brother and all the rabbit we’d hunted growing up came back.  “I think of deer as just kind of big rabbits and the dressing isn’t all that much different.”  The weather couldn’t have been better. Brisk long john weather. Snow on the fields and in the mountains but sunshine and blue sky. Lots of tracks but no big animals interested in making an appearance  I encouraged Derek to take the Honda 500 down a side trail while I happily stayed in my truck enjoying the comfort watching an open field and marsh for the night hunt.
I learned from Laura that she and Naomi had a terrific day walking Gilbert about town, talking about pregnancy and babies. Laura thinks the world of Naomi.  I told her Derek was as easy to be with, knowledgeable and responsible.  Dinner in the pub was a great evening, the women chatting up a storm while each bite of wonderful food made me realize how full and tired I was . It really was good to get to bed feeling every muscle.  Again 5 am we were up again Derek was glad to take Charles my Honda 500 Side by Side down the side roads..  I really was enjoying the F350 Lariat.   I had new snow tires and the carpet of snow had taken out all the pot holes making the main country road ride as sweet as pavement.  I also liked the heat and comfort.  I  was glad that Derek enjoyed taking the ATV deep in the back woods. He had a Colorado.  The Honda Pioneer is made for the bad back roads.
Still no game.  Another spectacular day.  We came across a herd of wild horses and the cutest little colt. Then some cowboys passed us herding cattle down the road.
More great meals at Caribou Lodge. Derek and Naomi had to leave to get back for work and study the next day. . Laura and I walked Gilbert some more. I road hunted that evening. Echo Valley.  Lots of sign but no big animals.  I did raise some grouse.  I left the truck and hiked a whole lot too.  No luck  Apparently another hunter group got a deer and young Mewhort got his.
In the morning Laura and I packed up . Ugh  Gilbert, we drove off for the last morning hunt.  I saw a coyote crossing the road and actually got a picture from a far. The real delight was the grouse I saw and shot with the 20 gauge. Laura in the truck said Gilbert was ecstatic when the gun went off running circles on the front seat.  I called for her to let him out and the poor blind dog ran right into the ditch. Calling him I got him to find his way back to the road through the snow and plants and finally to the bird still flopping a bit on reflex.  Gilbert the great hunting dog pounced.  He grabbed the throat and killed it proudly. He has his smell and hearing and was obviously delighted to be part of the hunt.
Laura and I were so glad to see his excitement and watch him puff up with pride. He was so disheartened and dejected when he lost his sight but everyday he’s getting better and better.
The drive home was beautiful taking the Duffy Lake Road from Lillouette through Pemberton and down the magnificent Sea to Sky Highway.  I love the Marble rock in the sun light.  We left the snow and returned to the fall colours of trees and leaves..  It was raining as we came into the valley.  I loved passing Howe Sound where I sailed so many years.   I  unloaded all my gear and Charles then  stopped to  store guns and ammo in the gun storage locker before heading home.
I figured the hunting season was over till Spring. There is winter bow hunting but older I confess I’m more of a fair weather hunter than when I was younger.

“Privacy and Professionalism

Marshall McLuhan:”The medium is the message”.
Professional recommendations today are eerily militaristic and reminiscent of the 1950’s.  Autocracy prevails.  Autonomy and freedom are gone.  The doctor must apply the ‘strictest privacy settings to maintain control over access to your personal information.”
When the war began even Freud said, “maybe the paranoids are right’.  War and rumours of war. The gearing up begins.    Relationships ,once membranous and authentic, are now rigid,  codified, Sadducean.   The less fluidity, the better.  “A crossing may be a violation.”
The senior government  beurocrat told me days past, “the patient is the enemy’.  The leading doctor, ex military, not that many years ago, taught, ‘doctors are officers, don’t fraternize with the enlisted.”  On graduation I was taught the only friends I could have were other doctors, lawyers or accountants. Even engineers were suspect.  In the government cafeteria ,like the police, the doctors sat apart.  As a specialist I sat alone. The divide was never greater. The boundaries celebrated,  Moats and walls.  Paul Simon sang “A.Winter’s Day”.
The department head told women and men to take off our wedding rings and remove pictures of children from the offices.  “Here you are only a doctor and you will never share anything about yourself with the patients. Not what you ate for lunch. Not where you live. Not what sports you play. Not what shows you have seen.  Nothing. Everything about yourself must be kept in the strictest of privacy. If I am getting on an elevator and a patient gets on that elevator I will get off even if there are other people on that elevator. Do you understand?”
Today we are told we are always doctors, in and out of the office and hospital, 24/7, weekends and holidays. "You are always a doctor".
The young hospital administrator last year coming into work accosted my colleague after she had delivered a baby in the wee hours of the morning. “Your skirt length should be below your knees.”  He said. “You shouldn’t be looking at my legs,” she replied hurrying sleepless, on to the clinic.  The administrator took out a black book,  made a note and recorded the name.
Today the patient is told, the ‘doctor is the enemy’.  The government demands doctors  have chaperones. The elite doctors alone practice with a lawyer alongside always. Poor doctors are advised to have their lawyers on speed dial.
Growing numbers of doctors would disband professions.  The Government lumps doctors with all the other “unionized’  calling them   ‘health care workers’.  The doctor is the proletariat to the new beurgeosie elites.  The Chinese emperor prided himself on his long finger nails, evidence that he did no manual labour.  The doctor who actually touches a patient is sordid, sharing the stigmatization of themselves of the diseased.  Priviledged land owners and money changers are above all that.
A good professional is seen but not heard.  They are a ‘tool’ and no more.  Their opinion should not be heard but read. Their feelings, families and ideas have no place in the protocols dictated from on high.  Efficient machines must have interchangeable parts especially in war where there is no time for delicacy or individuality.
The discussion of uniforms has returned.  War and rumours of war. The elite are anxious to move forward.  My colleague is questioned for wearing ‘shorts’ in the workplace. Sandals and long hair must go.
I’ve made an appointment at the barber.  When the war broke out even Freud said, “Maybe the paranoids are right.” War and rumours of war.

Friday, November 10, 2017


“The trouble with you is your perfectionism,” he said.  “It’s what causes your stress, early death and suicide.”
“It doesn’t matter if tens of thousands care for you , if even one person( and she may be the wicked witch or Satan incarnate) doesn’t like you ,we will take their side against you. That’s what we do.  You’d better be perfect or we will hurt you.”

Sunday, November 5, 2017

Homeless Canadians

“Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” Matthew 8:20

As a Canadian I have felt that  Canada is no more. I am left with no place to rest. I envy recent immigrants who fly back and forth to their countries of dual citizenship.   I only had this country. Now I’m an alien in my own land. The values I once thought as virtues are  mocked.  Freedom and truth are lost.  I am called a ‘snow nigger’ to my face for my polite apathy. The jail and asylum have simply lost their walls.  No one is innocent but all Canadians now are guilty.  Only the elite can afford the courts.
As a Christian, today, persecuted in this land, for my ideas,  values, behaviours, all that I held and hold dear,  ‘my kingdom is not of this world.”    Marx, the intellectual architect of  atheist  communism said, “religion is the opiate of the masses” and  “money is the god of the Jews”. Christian  C.S. Lewis,  taught, “don’t look for the architect in the wall.”  
Jesus, the son of a Jewish carpenter,  said, " Do Not Be Afraid.”  The Holy Book says that in the end we  win. The war has begun again.  

Sunday, October 29, 2017

Blind Cockapoo, Gilbert

Gilbert is almost 8 yo.  He’s been a joy and a companion for all that time.  He’s a therapy dog who comes to work with me.  So many patients have benefitted from his love and some have actually been cured of their fears or paranoia by his persistence. He has sailed the ocean in my Sailing Vessel, Giri. He is most known for riding on the back of my Harley Davidson Electroglide, to and from work. He’s ridden in the Rides for Dad rallies with his friends Dave and Dave’s dog Emory.  Last year, hearing me say how much I loved the Guess Who when we hired them for the Vincent Massey High School dance for $500 and ever since, he rode on the back of my Harley to Sturges North in Merritt. There he heard the incredible Burton Cummings and loved him.  Given my own history of being shot at, stabbed, held hostage and repeatedly falsely accused by psychotic borderline personality disorder patients or sociopathic drug addicts, he’s been what keeps me getting out of bed going to work.
Last spring he developed hereditary glaucoma, correctly diagnosed by Dr. Christopher Douglas at Oak Animal  Hospital. He was referred to a Veterinary Ophthalmologist but despite best treatment his pressure didn’t come down.  Dr. Christina King his much loved Veterinary Ophthalmologist at Western Canada Veterinary Eye Specialists removed that eye and he did very well. Once the eye was removed the pressure which was like a constant migraine was removed. While he hated the horrid cone of shame that made other dogs think he’d had the dreaded orchiectomy, he recovered very well, returning temperamentally quickly to his old carefree friendly self.  He had months more of sight with his remaining eye. Then one day that eye went red and he curled up in a fetal position despite the drops we’d been giving him.  He saw Dr. King and despite a couple of weeks more of intensive medical treatment the pressure didn’t come down and really was out of sorts. Both times when the pressure first went up he lost his sight and it just simply didn’t return despite treatment.  This apparently was what usually happened as well as the loss of the second eye some time in the year after the diagnosis of the first eye.

So the surgical date , a thursday , was set and his eye was removed. The cone of shame was especially difficult now that he was completely blind.  As well he’d just about figured out every way to avoid the tramadol pain killer I”d been giving him since the second eye pressure went up.  I tried peanut butter, liver, roast beef, ice cream.  He’d find that tramadol and spit it out.  The Metacam NSAI he accepted very well, the manufacturer having obviously considered taste whereas the tramadol folk lacked a dog palate.   For 2 nights he was in pain, the first with me holding him most of the night and the next with Laura coming over for the weekend calming him half the night. Mostly he was lonely and afraid and confused.  He hated the cone banging into everything with it.
And all the other dogs wouldn’t play with him because they didn’t want their genitals or butt banged by the hard plastic edge of the cone. He couldn’t even lick himself.  We reassured him. It wasn’t personal and wasn’t even sexual.  He was a good dog. I said that every sentence.  It was such a hard time. Good dog, Gilbert. Good boy.  And Laura reassured her little fur baby too.
Dr. King took off his cone last week saying that he’d healed just fine when she took out the sutures. “I”m sorry to tell you but the eye’s all okay but you dog has fleas.”  I felt as ashamed as a parent whose teacher tells them her kid has scabies.
He’s on monthly Sentinel. I’ve sprayed all his beds with industrial dose flea killer and even took him in to Oak for the nuclear subcutaneous Men in Black 3 bug killing one shot injection.  Still he’s got fleas.It’s been a bad year. My patients have human fleas, lice. Vancouver has the highest priced property in the world and everywhere there’s bed bugs.The rats come up from the shoreline and run through the $500 to $1000 a night hotels.  It’s all quite absurd. Despite working through the Aids epidemics with the Aids Dementia patients I had my personal melt  down, despite my doctor denial armour, when a patient dumped a bottle of bed bugs and lice on my desk to show me  "how bad it was.”  I didn’t need that.
Two bottles of Kwellada total body washes for a couple of days immersion healing got me back into my standard denial. So many of my patients have resistant staphylococcus infections, cellulitis, hepatitis, AIDS, injection site abscesses.  Now my dog had fleas. So I went through all the treatments, sprayed everything and concluded that maybe George the indoor cat was passing them back and forth. But Laura and I both looked George over and no fleas and no eggs and no scratching.  I just don’t think the Sentinel is working so plan to see the veterinarian and ask if Sentinel resistant fleas have come along.
George, Laura’s rescue cat, a skittish surly guy, has become Gilbert’s best friend and confidant since Gilbert's sbecome blind. Each morning Gilbert wakes up and goes off to rub nose with George then the two of them play before Gilbert and I head out to work.
My nephew Graeme sent Gilbert a toy for blind dogs, a ball he rolls about with his nose.  When the toy moves it  groans and laughs. Gilbert loves it. We knew he was back to his old self when he began throwing his wee hedgehog toy at Laura for her to throw back to him. I throw him a ball but he loses it. He likes the Kong toy filled with peanut butter. He smells that out.
He’s only slowly learning to locate things purely by smell. I have to remember that it's only days he's been totally blind and that he'll just keep learning.  In time I may teach him a blues  guitar and get him some gigs on the road to bring in doe for kibbles..
His nemesis is getting caught behind a half open door. He’s woofs then, unable to turn around and not quite sure how to back up. Laura and I have both rescued him several times from that dilemma.
In the new motels and cabins we’ve stayed at he’s had difficulty the first day orienting himself but by the next he’s pretty settled. Strange sounds upset him.  He’s thoroughly at home at my place but even now sitting outside he barks when he smells something but there’s nothing I can see.
Hunting on the weekend I took him along in the evening in the truck.  He liked being along.  He’s a bird hunting dog and always found my grouse for me when I shot them.  He retrieved the birds though they were as big as his little head.  When I shot a deer once he raced to it before I could get there and when the deer started to raise it’s head he jumped on top of it holding it’s head down till I arrived and put the deer of it’s misery. I always feel sorry for that deer in deer heaven shamefully explaining he was killed by a cockapoo.
We walked along way down a logging road, brush and pine and fir trees along one side with an open clearing along the other.  I was carrying the rifle and hoping a deer might come down that hill the other side of the clearing.  I let Gilbert off leash with a little blue flashing light on his collar. He walked behind me as I stalked quietly along realizing Gilbert's flashing blue light and my snapping my fingers and calling to Gilbert might not go unnoticed by the deer.  I ‘d look back and see him following as he usually did. Then he wasn’t there and I remembered in the past he’d take off circling to raise a grouse I might have passed. Only now he was hung up in fallen trees in their maze of branches with me having to call him orient him to the way out. This happened a couple of times with me actually once having to climb over the trees and lift him out of where he’d got himself stuck. After that he stayed close behind me. It’s all a steep learning curve.
He likest to lie on the bed beside me.  Laura saw him jump up on the bed and sit beside me listening to my breathing with his head cocked. Then as if he could see he had his head just above my chest before he lunged forward and lay right across me. This is one of his early morning wake up statements. Normally he’s on my chest but this time he was just off a tad and I had cockapoo draped arcorss my face.  “Good Morning, Gilbert!”  His tail still wags a mile a minute.
He’s vulnerable but loves meeting other dogs. They say blind dogs in the wild stay with the pack and survive. Blindness in older dogs is quite common.  I’m Gilbert’s pack.  When my father went blind Mom who was going deaf became  his eyes as he was her ears. With all Gilbert's growling and barking at strange noises I think he thinks I’m deafer than normal. He’s elevated himself to Guard Dog too, something I’d discouraged before when he was hunter and therapy dog. But it gives him purpose now. In time he’ll be an even better therapy dog and hunting dog.  I might even get him dark glasses and a seeing eye companion dog. I already have a blind dog white leash but draw the line there. My dog’s not getting a cane and cup with a hand printed sign.  I say that now but with the way Canada’s economy is being mismanaged, I might have to reconsider our options.
I like holding him closer more.  Knowing that my carrying him up and down stairs was tough on me,  he began making his way up and down himself.  Since the cone's gone, he's been doing everything he can to be independent again. Better natured than me he's going to adapt. However, he’s had so many treats from Laura and I this past week it will be tough to get him back on his regular kibbles and little caesar’s.  I say that but know he’ll be sharing the grouse I shot this weekend when I get around to barbecuing it.  He's had barbecued steak last week and prime beef on the weekend.
We will prevail.  I think of him as a little biblical Samson as well.  I feel too he’s Gloucester of Shakespeare’s Lear. All the Blinded character’s in history are now here in Gilbert enshrined. He's given me a whole new appreciation for those who are blind and the amazing cyborg eye advances happening technologically.
As I'm adapting to my increasing deafness and loss of taste I can still help Gilbert  who is blind and doing his best to warn me of dangers, albeit too frequently. I’m reminded when I think of the two of us old warriors of the picture I have from the horrific Japanese Changi WWII Prison I visited in  Singapore.  I made a point of going there after having had the privilege of having a surviving vet from that place as a patient.  I brought back the sketch, "Two Malarias and a Cholera"  by  Ray Parkin.
I'm reminded too of the story of the child,  who seeing all the bad news of CNN and CBC,  asked her mother how humans could be so bad.  The mother instead told her to look for the "helpers." “There are always helpers.” she said.
So in Changi when the prisoners fell from disease the Japanese told the other prisoners  to leave them to die not letting the healthier men leave their work to help them. Instead two men with malaria between them helped the worse man with cholera back to camp that day.
Gilbert’s always been a helper.  It’s in the nature of cockapoo.   He’s been the best of little dogs and my heart goes out to him now.  We're in this together and we're get through and thrive.  Like that amazing woman I met , Heidi Cave,  who wrote the book, "Fancy Feet, Turning My Tragedy into Hope."  

Princeton Hunting, Ponderosa Motel and Blind Dog, Gilbert

Laura and I had hoped to hook up with my old hunting buddy Bill Mewhort’s son and his wife.  They were hunting Clinton area this next couple of weeks. However Gilbert lost his first eye last spring to hereditary glaucoma and the second flared up a couple of weeks back. So our fall hunting season has been seriously disrupted, not to mention Gilbert had surgery to remove his second eye and is only now recovering.  It’s been a tough couple of weeks with him up most nights at first with pain and now just confused and anxious and lonely.  Coupled with that my colleagues had planned vacations and conferences so I felt a duty to cover for them as they covered for me when I was bow hunting  in August.( i.e. walking about in the woods with a bow immensely enjoying the fall and not seeing any game.)
I love Princeton. It was the first place I came to hunt, driving a VW Rabbit that got stuck immediately in the snow till I gave up and went home. I had my old Browning 30:06 from Italian Sports and a whole lot of enthusiasm but no luck. It was back in the late 1980’s.  I’ve come back again and again over the years mostly staying at Ponderosa Motel, sometimes Princeton Motel and sometimes the Riverside Cabins. Over the years I’ve tended to hunt the Pemberton area, Boston Bar, Merritt, Clinton and 100 mile House, and Princeton. I’ve also really enjoyed hunting north Vancouver Island.  We’ve gone far north for Moose, beyond the Prince George area, Pink Mountain or Fort St. James.
Bill Mewhort always laughed because I’d tell everyone I was a grouse hunter and just happened to shoot big game.  Once we were hauling home the first moose I shot,  these guys asked where I’d shot it and I held up my grouse and told them “just over there. Along the side of the road” . I  proceeded to tell them in detail waxing poetic, how I’d seen the grouse, what it was doing and how I’d stalked it, even explaining what what gun I’d used and the merits of the Ruger 22 rifle.  All the while they were looking at this great moose with a rack.  Bill was chuckling as we drove away saying, “Did you see their faces, how their jaws dropped when you went on about the grouse.?”
Dad and my brother Ron started me prairie chicken and partridge hunting with a 22 when I was 12 yo in Manitoba. I’m thankful to have grown up in Canadian home with Canadian values and an appreciation for conservation,  stewardship of resources and the depth of appreciation we have for game and harvest. In the city surrounded by pavement and cut off from God’s country too many people live in echo chambers eating food wrapped in cellophane and not knowing anything about what they go on and on about.
It was a nice drive up to Princeton through the winding roads of Manning Park,  leaving after clinics at  3:30 pm.  We had  the mandatory stop at MacDonald’s for Gilbert’s much loved MacDonald’s burger paddy which Laura breaks up and feeds him by hand. As adults we had cheese burgers and fed ourselves. Did I mention Laura spoils Gilbert, her fur baby.   I stopped for weekend snacks in Hope.  I’d phoned ahead to Ponderosa and made reservations with the lovely Korean Canadian  couple who have owned the motel forever.
At Ponderosa. the lovely lady I’d talked to had reserved the outer spot for my new truck.  The last time we were there, the high Pioneer ATV  in the back and the length of long box truck made it difficult to get out of an inner parking spot. Fortunately another hunter was leaving so I was able to get out.  The previous year I’d shot a deer and hung in the back of the truck till leaving in the morning. The lady had  reserved me a perfect spot on the outside  parking her own car there so no one took it. .  They’re always so helpful.
After checking in I walked across the street to the incredible 5 star restaurant, Little Creek Grill. They had prime rib specials so I got two for Laura and I knowing Gilbert would like the bits.  The only trouble we had was carving meat on styrofoam plates with plastic knives on our laps in bed.  Laura eventually grabbed the whole piece and began chewing on it like a lovely little animal. I cut through the bottom and spilt the juice on my pyjama bottoms. Gilbert thought this was all for his benefit happy to lick up every drop.   We watched NCIS on the cable tv.
This Korean Canadian couple have been the Ponderosa owners for  as long as I can remember.  They’re terrific people. The rooms have always been so clean and well cared for. Every year there are upgrades. They used to have a pool and hot tub. Now they have a Sushi Restaurant.  They serve a smorgasboard breakfast just like European hotels do and travelling tourists love it.  I had their sausage and eggs  today.  It was delicious. Normally I’m gone before 7 am and pick up coffee and sausage at the A&W here which opens at 6 -7 am.  Already there’s the local woman with her lap top there and the ubiquitous group of retired men having coffee and talking weather and politics.  No one in Canada is happy with Justin Trudeau’s government especially working people, country people and the middle class. So I passed the wisdom circle of grey hairs condemning his latest taxes on the disabled while I waited for my sausage and egger and hash browns.
I didn’t take Gilbert for the morning hunt. He’s still healing.  I left him in good company.  Laura was still in bed with her blond tossed hair.  Poor blind Gilbert was looking at the wall when I went out the door.
Before light I was unloading, “Charles” the glorious Honda Pioneer side by side 500 cc ATV  (all terrain vehicle).  There’s always a moment before going down the ramp in reverse that I have ‘doubts’.  Especially this week after the very funny Facebook video of a fellow loading his offload motorcycle and flipping himself over the hood of his truck. He survived. I’ve survived several ‘incident’s’ of ATV loading or off loading which trigger minor panic attacks for briefest moments and then I’m prayerfully thanking the Lord for survival.  Hunting trips are associated with so many such little victories.  I can’t say how many times I’m almost died going over cliffs, crashed or rolled vehicles.
I transferred rifles and my bag from the truck, secured the ramps by backing the truck over them, then was off on the back roads.  I should walk more. I used to sit in ambush before dawn for a couple of hours and I’d stalk a couple of hours. But since I got this ATV I’ve been pretty much a lazy road hunter. The fact is , I flipped my last ATV and had a bit of pain walking for a couple of years. That’s over but it was a great excuse to eat Hagen Daz ice cream and get out of shape. I’m also a bit older and the last deer I’ve shot have taken all my energy to get them to the truck.  I’ve concluded that I’m only going to shoot something close to the road simply because of the issue of hauling and loading.  That makes for a pretty good rationalization for not hiking as much. I do. I stop “Charles” and walk the trail ahead of me a lot but I’m impatient and don’t sit in ambush as much simply because I don’t quite know the flow of deer in Princeton. In Pemberton and North Vancouver Island I actually know where the deer highways are but Princeton I’m still exploring.  It’s fun too and I just love driving around off road on the Pioneer.  The grouse are along the trails too.
I carry my stainless steel Ruger 30:06 Rifle, Bill named “Sexcaliber’” , It was the first of the stainless steel rifles and very sexy in the light.  I use  180 grain Nozzler Partition bullets since they’re good for deer, bear and moose. I also have my Miura I Over and under 20 gauge shot gun. . I was shooting the Ruger semi auto 22L with Luke until our Sikh hunting buddy Sonny turned me on to the 20 gauge.  The 12 gauge tore up the flesh of the little birds and my 4:10 was just too light.  Luke hit the head every shot but I didn’t like missing grouse that would fly as I tried to get close enough. As Sonny had showed, the 20 gauge could be as good a head shot, shooting just above them but if they flew you could still drop them on the fly with the second barrel.  I’ve been enjoying this way of hunting grouse the last few years.
I saw a few doe and possibly one buck. A couple ran across the road ahead of me and I saw one dear in the distance so stopped “Charles”  and stalked uphill  to the tree line.  There I spooked the doe and the doe and buck were out of there. Sllogging uphill out of breath knowing this was good exercise, being fat and out of shape. but I did having trouble keeping  silent as I  was wheezing like a freight train.
The 2 grouse were kind enough to sit long enough for me to stop the vehicle, load my shot gun and sneak up the road where I shot one sitting and the second one on the fly. I missed Gilbert because I almost lost the one as it was wounded and hid under a log.  I found it with some serious searching but knew Gilbert would have pounced on it right off.
The morning was spectacular. It had started  in the darkness and cold with lots of low level  fog.  I’d had to scrape the ice off the windshields. As the day moved along the sun came up on the forest alive with fall colours.  Evergreens next to the perennials clothed in oranges, yellows and reds.  A great day to be alive.  I drove at a snails pace all over the mountain drinking Starbuck double shot canned cold coffee and breathing in the forest fragrance and the smell of cut timber.  There were dozens of hunters in town staying at the various hotels and motels but out in the woods I only came across one or two waving passing each other on the narrow logging roads. I saw a few camper vans in the back woods and one substantial camp of three vehicles. With all that much wilderness it’s amazing how alone one can be.
On the way back to the truck I saw a huge timber wolf run across a field crossing the road just in front of me and streaking up into the woods uphill.  I love seeing wild life back woods. I’ve not seen wolves around Princeton before but sure saw a lot up by Merritt and Clinton.  I’ve been blessed to see Cougar, Lynx, bobcats, coyotes and foxes on my various hunts. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to get a photo. I used to carry a camera but now all I’ve got along is my much loved IPhone.

At the truck I loaded the Pionneer finding this time I was missing a bolt on the ramp, That had happened last year and I’d replaced it in Princeton.  I’m always looking over my equipment but there’s simply no end of surprises.  No harm but that internal “oh shit!” thought.
Back in town I was driving down the highway and there was a deer.  A doe. Standing in front of the RCMP headquarters. I really do think they’re smarter than we think.
Back at the motel Laura and Gilbert were waiting. She’d had her bath and taken Gilbert for a walk.  We walked up to the hardware store where I got another bolt and a spare. In addition we got Gilbert one of those little flashing collar lights. He didn’t walk into any walls on this walk which was good.  We stopped at a little coffeeshop across from Save On.They had a whole bunch of pottery, home made candles and jams inside for sale.  We had quiche and turkey soup sitting outside in the sun with Gilbert drinking up the scents of other dogs passing.  I’ve always loved the town of Princeton, with it’s war epitaph, legion hall, all the funky little cafe’s and shops and everyone so friendly.  It’s nice too that all the housing that would cost millions in the lower mainland only costs hundreds of thousands of dollars here.
Leaving Laura to read and do cross word puzzles at the motel, my big now blind hunting dog,  Gilbert, the cockapoo and I headed out for the night hunt in the truck. With his waking me through the night and early morning hunt I’d needed an hour nap before getting going.  But there we were doing due hunting diligence.   Old fat white guy and old blind cockapoo.
I didn’t unload Charles but drove along the main almost paved logging road in my white Ford F350 truck enjoying the comfort and smooth ride.  Past trucks I’ve used for hunting taking them almost everywhere I now take the quad but this truck’s purpose is principally to haul my RV or to get Charles and me too the hunting grounds. The logging road mains are generally kept safe enough for cars with few potholes. Older, hunting now  I go very slow.  Too many times younger I almost went off cliffs.
Gilbert used to watch the road head like a hawk but now sniffs the air.  He’s such a great companion.  I didn’t see anything.I have no idea what he smelled.  I stopped the truck and stalked a mile ahead with him walking behind. I was thankful for the flashing blue light I’d clipped to his harness. He stumbled off the road a couple of times but only once did I have to go get him as he woofed his distress. He’d walked into a fallen tree and couldn’t find his way out of the maze of branches. By the end of the walk he was keeping closer behind me.  They say blind dogs in the wild just stay close to the pack and survive that way.  Gilbert’s learning. Back at the truck it was dark and we drove out as the sun set behind the mountains.
I stopped at the great pizza place in town getting us an all Meat Pizza. I love the Princeton Pizza. So another night of TV, an old movie with Anthony Quin and pizza. I walked Gilbert around the town with his flashing light.  Unlike the city a country town closes down for the night early and the quiet and peacefulness is a thing of beauty. Overhead I looked at the stars not masked by city lights and waited while Gilbert chose a perfect place to poop.
This morning I’ve just had breakfast while Laura is in the bath. We’re going home early. Sometimes I get an early morning hunt in and back before check out but today I just loved sleeping in.  Gilbert had me up at 3 am fuzzing and wanting to play or walk so I stumbled about the town for a bit before going back to bed. Laura told me he’d had her up playing a couple of hours before. He’s insecure in the strange environment and more vulnerable. He’s been able to sleep through a night in my place since his surgery a couple of weeks back so we think he’s still just a little scared and needs reassurance.
Right now he’s facing me and if you didn’t know you’d think he was looking, his hair covers his face.  That’s another good reason for a Beatles hair cut.
The fall weather and sunshine has been a god send.  It’s been a great weekend and I’m looking forward to heading back for a week of work. Might even get out for another weekend of hunting yet. Next weekend we have BC Ballet and Pacific Theatre to attend.

Thursday, October 26, 2017

 Grace and Truth

“For the law was given through Moses; Grace and Truth came through Jesus Christ.”  John 1:18
The Law of Moses refers primarily to the Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible. The distinction between the law of Israel and the other laws before it was that transgressions of the law were seen as transgressions against God.
These include the contentious passages of Deuteronomy regarding clothing, food and sexuality.  A fine British doctor reviewing these early teachings felt that for the day they were the best public health prescriptions of the time among other things.
The question is their ‘timelessness’ and this was where the ongoing ‘interpretation’ of the Jewish Bible was necessary.  It is by its very nature a historical document.
By contrast, truth and grace are eternal as Jesus Christ, Son of God, God of Gods, Holy of Holies.  God is to Christianity all that is truly eternal, the first mover.  Christ is God incarnate as opposed to God transcendent or as the Trinitarian God would say, One God, three persons.
Truth has been demonized in the aetheist communist invasion of culture and society of the west. Truth is called ‘my truth’ by feminists specifically.  This short hand suggests that subject ‘perception’ is true rather than the ‘objective’ event. Now the courts of western civilization, as shown in the Perry Mason television crime series, called for the individual to state ‘the truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth.’  Obviously this was silly as the court was asking for ‘version’ of the truth because later the judge would state his ‘truth’.
All perceptions are versions of the truth as we can be thankful for the Hindu story of the elephant with the blind professors surrounding it blindfolded and required to touch the elephant from where they are standing and later comment on what the elephant is.  The result is an argument between them with one saying it’s a wall, another that the elephant is a pillar, another that it is a snake and another that it is a hose.  They are all right as far as they experience.
In science we increased the number of experiment to lessen the ‘error’ which comes from only one ‘observation’ or a limited perspective observation.  Scientists know of ‘tolerances’ and ‘deviations’ and never ‘assume’ the truth but rather that what they know is a ‘hypothesis’. Scientific truth is hypothetical.  It is assumed that more observation or different observation might change the ‘truth’ but that as of this number of observations at this time under these condition, practically, and pragmatically this hypotheses approaches truth.
This is all different from the narcissistic ‘my truth’ and worse ‘relative truth’.  The problem with ‘arts education’ is that one can live in fiction and even be a drama teacher utterly unable to function in reality. When I left the arts and theatre and began my study of chemistry and physics I was hampered greatly by my having lived in my imagination and the realm of discussion and politics and even the forced agreements of the arts world of legality.  In the real world I blew up the experiments several time and repeatedly had the university evacuated because I didn’t appreciate the ‘law’ of this world.  I had my ‘ideas’ but had to learn ‘precision’.  Only by standing on the learning of the craft of my teachers could I function as a scientist and later as a physician.  As a physician I had to know and respect ‘truth’ and acto on it because otherwise my patients became sicker and or died.  This was especially true with surgery.
A fundamental failure of the health care ‘system’ is the interface with ‘administration’ and ‘medicine’.  Science and medicine has evolved to the 21st century and beyond but the ‘rate limitting step’ is the general persistence of politics and administration that pansies to stupidity and  relies on rewarding sociopaths and psychopaths who chameleon and lie.
The Law of Moses included the 10 commandments.
One of the 10 Commandments which socialist and communist political systems fear most is
“Thou shalt not bear false witness.”

Today the courts are a fire with ‘lies’ and judges making pronouncements based not on ‘truth’ but rather ‘on politics’.  This is why Christians call those this inn courts and in government the ‘anti Christ’ and see these ‘liars’ and those who support ‘lies’ as evil.
There are many versions of the truth and some say all roads lead to Rome.  There is an increasingly farcicalness to our language and the manipulation of language which was fundamental to communist takeover of countries. By altering the meaning of things communists ensured that people in the land to be overtaken could not speak the truth, could not share.  Undermining of a culture is a decades long matter. KGB operatives like Putin once was were infiltrated in the west with the express purpose of changing the language and softening up the target.
Grace is what we receive from God not by our ‘work’s but because of the generosity of God. God is love.  I have life today and it’s not through what I’ve done. I don’t know why I woke up today. I can only speculate about my purpose or my meaning. It’s true I as a spiritual and mystical being live in this ‘cloud of unknowing’ which some would call politically the ‘fog of war’.  The people who were supposed to be on my side and have my back are indeed calling me the enemy and turning their resources against me when I’ve only done as I was taught in the best interests of my patients. I have told the truth and acted in truth.
Yet “he and she” believe the outrageous and utterly obvious psychotic psychopathic lies of a person who has obviously gained greatly by their lying and cheating and continue to profit from deceit.. And I feel alone on the front lines. For a year I was unsupported by those who are paid incredibly from the benefit of health care but did nothing for me while my life and my dog’s life were threatened. Indeed they know that those who have drug and alcohol problems and are psychotic and are are sociopathic doing work at home and collecting insurance for deceit are the most likely to attack doctors. Yesterday I talked to another doctor whose life was threatened. I have had no support whatsoever for these physical attacks and none whatsoever except from lawyers for these attacks on my character and person.  I know that I represent my class , we are just others in the middle class , while those who were supposed  to work for the common good have chosen ,out of cowardice or avarice or plain stupidity, to allow the individual destruction of the truth telling hard working ones, one at a time. By divide and conquer “he and she”, these rather bad childen, our siblings gone wrong, are attempting an overthrow of society from within.
Truth and the concept of truth areat the centre. Politically the word ‘fake news’ and ‘fake main stream news’ and fake CBC and the lies of the heads of the EPA in the US and so much more are central to this time.
Thank God there is Grace.
Of course ‘maybe I’m wrong.’

“Surely the righteous will never be shaken; they will be remembered forever. They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord. Their hearts are secure, they will have no fear, in the end they will look in triumph on their foes.” Psalm 112:6-8

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Please God Let Me Know You More Deeply

I loved the George Harrison song, “My Sweet Lord”. I loved the gospel songs by Elvis Presley. I love the creation stories around the world and especially the creation stories of the Torah. I am so weary from the bullying and crticism of aetheists.  Aetheist communists, the Marx’s and Lenin’s, and all the pseudoscience that is propagated by these folk who claim they are ‘secular’ but demand everyone goose step to their dead march.  

I love Diwali and I love Christmas but I don’t see those celebrating Christmas demanding that the Diwali lights be put out. I don’t see the Diwali people demanding that Christmas trees come down.  I see Aetheists demanding everyone be like them, grey uniforms and painful pretentiousness, so superior, like that awful Kafetch Marx.  Marx , a Jew, supported by Jews said “Money is the God of Jews.”   Money is not the God of Jews but it was the God of Marx.  Materialists worship money as do aetheists who are by default materialists.  

I believe in a conscious and unconscious world.  I believe in the mystery beyond my senses.  Einstein believed in God. The greatest physicist of our times believes in God but a whole lot of political hacks and beurocrats use tax money to persecute those who believe.  

Meanwhile Christians are persecuted for wearing a cross while Muslims are the only group who wear burkas which shout religion and yet the aetheists leave them alone.  The aetheists are hypocrites and right now there’s been an unholy alliance between the communists and Muslims in this new “Globalism” with thugs like ‘Antifa” who are the new fascists, Hitler Youth, who claim simply with a name change to be something else.  A tourd by any name is still a tourd.

Now God is all. God is Good. God is omniscient, omnipotential, omnipotent.  God has the capacity to touch me and the God in me, as I am the creation of the creator can know God. Miracles can happen.  I believe in a God of mystery and miracles. I believe that I am limited by fear and my need for things to remain ‘safe’. I am afraid of the awesome reality of God. I am the one who limits God in my life. I am the one whose unhappiness and anger and fear shuts out the experience of God which is hope and light and joy.  I am on my own just too critical and fearful and negative but I can ask God’s help in addressing these character defects. 

Aetheists and fear mongers like Justin Trudeau and the Climate Change Cult with all their ‘the world’s going to end, give me money talk’, constant negative fear monger ing, are so loud but that’s only because I let them ‘steal my joy’. If I focus on God. If I ‘pray unceasingly. If i look to the right and look for the good always I’ll not crash into the left ditch but stay in the middle of the road.

There is always the option to see the sacred. There is always the possibility that Jesus is there in the stranger. There is always the moment of seeing the wonder of creation like admiring the craftsmanship of a great master. There is this possibility. I wake and want this but by the end of a day of seeing drug addicted patients one after another hopeless and worshipping the drugs, having no purpose but slavery to materialism and pleasure, the people thrown out by their masters when they’ve no more money and no more fun.  I am there daily worn down by their constant insistence that there are no miracles , that there is no hope , that there is no God. Then at night I hear CBC news and the same nihilism is sold and preached but with a glitter that has worn off my patients lives.  There’s this tedium. And then I get to the tv and reading facebook and all the promotions and easily offended aetheists and godless who insist that you believe as they do.  

I post a picture of Jesus. I post a picture of my dog. I post a picture of my meal. But my Lord will be attacked always . I have had a life of persecution for belief in God by aetheists who can believe in thier godlessness but must attack me. Now the combinations of Muslims and Aetheists take away my free speech and say that I am Islamaphobic but I’m Christian and in their countries from which they come they kill Christians. They kill Gays and they deny women equality. Christians are the basis of the movement for women’s rights and indeed civil rights. Christianity is where women have the greatest place in history.  The aetheist communists reduced everyone to poverty and slavery and killed anyone who disagreed with them by the hundreds of millions.  

But I am not allowed to respond to their attacks. I turn to God . I turn my cheek 70 times 70. My head is spinning like Carrie at Halloween and it’s not enough.

I’m seeking God. My sweet Lord. Lord of Light. God of God. I believe in all roads leading to Rome. All saints are headed in the same direction while aetheists are having a temper tantrum and blockading the road to God.  I believe the saints of Muslim religions, the Sufis and others are seeking God as I am but that their political leaders of this essentially political religion, much like the Catholic Church before Luther when it was still a physical ‘see’, like Mecca is today, the religion so influenced by the satanic demands of Saudi.  

Jesus said “My kingdom is not of this world.”  

Buddha and Krishna and Zoraster and the Creator of my Aboriginal brothers and sisters are not of this world.  God is all. God is good. The Yahweh of the Jewish Torah is not Israel.  Israel and New York demands are political but Yahweh is pure beingness. God is transcendent and immanent.

I would know you more God. Be my lodestar. Guide me. Light my way God.  Let me focus on the light and know that the light casts out the darkness. Help me to ignore the shouting and screaming and neon signs of the aetheists.  Help me to hear your ‘wee small voice.’  Help me to be still and know that I am God.

Please God I know you hear prayer and respond to prayer. Hear my prayer today. Help me to be a better doctor, a more loving man, a better human and kinder more caring. Help me to be like you Lord who cared for children and the sick. Help me today Lord.  Help me when I feel most alone.  Help me to know you are always with me and this too shall pass.

Thank you Lord.

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Tuesday Gratitude

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”  John 1.5

Thank you God for this morning and this day. It is still dark now but I have faith that the sun shall rise. Thank you for faith and routine and the known.  

Thank you for Gilbert’s health. His cone is off and though blind he is once more exploring, eating and sniffing as usual.  Thank you for George too who gives Gilbert such comfort.  George joins us now in the morning after weeks of isolating himself in his room.  I dragged him out into our company a couple of times to show him that his fears were unwarranted. Then I ignored him and in his own time he joined us. Mostly it was Gilbert who bridged the divide.  He’d seek out George when he was sighted and stand looking at him till George eventually began again to play with Gilbert. George obviously doesn’t like change and has a lot of issues with safety.

Thank you for the warmth. I’m loving the electric fireplace heater and the propane furnace.  It’s chilly outside.  Not raining so when I walked Gilbert first thing I was able to wear just a sweater my family gave me.  I cherish it not just for the physical warmth but also for my sister in law’s thoughtfulness.  With winter coming on I look forward to wearing the scarf that Ann Marie knitted for me.  I am thankful for family and friends. Keep them safe and well Lord.

Guide me today.

I was feeling nostalgic. I thought that every day above ground is better than below for the living. So I’ve added quite a few behind me, the simple positives of living and surviving. Now there are fewer ahead of me I have this hope that I will survive today as I did those many yesterdays.

Thank you your protection Lord. There are liars and false accusers and corrupt beurocrats and violent institutions and dishonest courts but in the end Lord you have promised to reward my virtue and truthfulness.  You reward service and duty.  You reward work and hard work and sobriety. Thank you for my sobriety today and the majority of people who wake aware and contribute to the light rather than the darkness.  Help me serve you with those who remain asleep awake and wrap themselves ever tighter in darkness incapable of feeling.  Help me to touch them and bring them back from the dark to the light of love.

Jesus is love, Lord.  He commanded “Do Not Be Afraid”.  He said all scripture and law could be summed up as “ Love God and Love your Neighbour (the other) as Yourself.  Thank you for the writings of Martin Buber and Merton.  

I pray for Trinity University with its experiment in Monastic heterosexuality and celibacy.  

Help me to understand the purpose and meaning of this life I have lived and what life I have to live.  Help me to be of service to you, my fellows and myself.

Guide me Lord.

Thank you for science and theology. Thank you for poetry and literature and history. Thank you for quantum leaps of understanding and insight.

Please Lord help the judges and politicians to grow and evolve.  Help the police protect those who would live and raise families and not have their work ruined and destroyed or their profits stolen by individuals or corrupt governments.  

Thank you for Isaiah who best described the arrogant of his day and this day.  Thank you for his prophecies and the prophecies of Jeremiah.  

Thank you Lord for this day.