Gratitude Tuesday

Thank you for the gift of this life. Thank you for family, friends and the characters that people the theatre of life.  Thank you for the love, friendship, and indeed the humor and absurdity. Thank you for Gilbert the cockapoo, so loving, sweet and funny.  Thank you for the air and the water and the elements.  Thank you for my vehicles and work and the roads that connect my home and offices.  Thank you for my training and teachers. Thank you for my ability to be of service. Thank you for the administration and the great distribution channels for goods and information. Thank you for learning. Thank you for the spaceships I keep praying are friendly and coming this way. I would dearly like to meet an alien and discuss perspective. I’d like to know God more deeply, more personally, more overtly. I’d like to walk in the 4th dimension, feel in the flow, experience the joy of knowing I am doing all I can be. Help me and guide me. Be a beacon in the storm.  Light my way.  Lift me up. Thank you for all of this.  Thank you for this day. Hallelujah!

Aliens Invasion

We didn’t notice. It was microscopic.  They came on tiny tiny space craft that mixed with the meteorites that commonly passed through the atmosphere. Flashes of light . Little falling stars. No one noticed them. You’d have to be looking in  a microscope in the very exact location.  They liked amoeba.  No one knows why.  A hunting party of Lilliputian raiders suddenly attacking amoeba in a wide area.  That was their diet.  But it conflicted with other’s diets too. The expansion of the alien species and the decline of our own smallest members went unnoticed for a long time.

When it was finally recognized the foothold was made.  At first it was thought that it was just another earth microbe. But the use of technology became apparent. Tiny thread like antenna running up tree bases. Filaments of wire.  The factories took a while to locate.  Each phase the exposure was accidental. Children playing in a field and seeing something unusual. The children were the greatest asset though at first no one listened. 

When we finally figured there were batallions of them on earth the children were the ones that discovered their ships. Dinky toy sized space craft.  

They weren’t interested in us perse.  

We were giants and dinosaurs to them.

Their sole interest was the amoeba but the elimination of our amoeba populations was having serious repercussions on larger species. The havoc rose up through the food chain.  

Soon the sky was full of falling stars. Soon the earth was being invaded all the time. You could hardly walk anywhere in the country without stepping on someone.  

When we retaliated they entered all our machinery and caused it to cease to function. Planes fell out of the sky. Cars stopped.  It was truly annoying.  The media fought our attempts at eliminating the problem. Claimed we were microbophobe. We were.  The power of small was increasingly apparent.  Flame throwers certainly worked but they cleared the hinterland as well.  There were just too many of them.

We got them in the lab finally.  Developed a specific anti virus.  Wiped them all out.

We’re still studying the drives on their dinky toy space craft.

The amoeba didn’t thank us. 

Should Mentally Ill Women Have Babies?

There was a time when mentally ill women were sterilized.  People forget history.  If you forget history you’re doomed to repeat it.

Identification with the Agressor is the coping strategy whereby a person claims to say or be something another wants out of fear. A mentally ill woman saying she doesn’t want children may well be identifying with the aggressor, the aggressor being society today.  It’s called ‘internalization’.  

I’m not invested in women having children or not having children.  It’s the reason that counts.  Mentally ill women commonly have major self esteem issues.  Many have been commonly abused.  The consequence of emotional, physical and sexual abuse is a sense of inadequacy.  This can well translate to I’m not ‘good enough’ to have a child or « I could never be a mother ».

Récent studies have shown that women’s magazines are one of the principle harms to women’s self esteem.  

Having a child I remind women is an athletic event. If you can run, jump, play basketball, soccer, or do a long hike you’re fit. Ironically the larger the ‘hips’ the more likely a woman is to have an ‘easy’ delivery. We have moved a long way from the Twiggy anorexic to the Kardasian butt proud celebrity images. 

Yet there’s still many myths perpetrated on women by the women’s magazine industry.  The myths and ‘politically correct narratives’ push their various sales pitches, backers and propaganda agendas.  Ask your doctor and he/she will tell you if there’s any ‘physical’ reason to not have children?  

When I delivered babies, like every midwife and obstetrician, I liked seeing ‘hips’.  Traditionally ‘female shape’ equates with easy delivery.   That’s it.  Obviously if a woman has heart disease or  a rare  metabolic disorder there is reason for proper prenatal care.  Few conditions are  a contraindication to pregnancy and mental illness in general is not one of them. 

Mood Disorders, Personality Disorders, Thought disorders, and in fact, almost any mental illness is not a reason to avoid having children.  Mental illnesses in general are genetically receptive and the risk of transmission is so minor as to not be an issue.  Really! Really!  

The ‘genetics’ of mental illness is in its infancy and while certain traits ‘run in familie’s’ like alcoholism, the chance of transmission of the traits is incredibly small.  Even schizophrenia which has a strong genetic contribution must have environmental factors to lead to the expression of the schizophrenic genes.. A person can have the risk of schizophrenia because of certain genes but only if, for example, they smoke marijuana in adolescence will the schizophrenia be expressed.  If one identical twin has alcoholism the other twin has a 50% chance of developing alocholism but only if he or she drinks.  

Mental illness is ‘multi factorial’ and commonly ‘recessive’ as opposed to ‘dominant’ which means least likely to be transmitted generation to generation.  Mental illness is therefore not part of the  standard ‘genetic talk’ given to future parents.  If you have huntingdon’s chorea and want boys you might want to talk to a geneticist.  The risk of transmission of a ‘dominant’ trait is significantly higher 

However alot of women who have mental illness have been told they are bad, different, crazy,  all their lives.  She come to  believes this.  She then is likely to translate this to mean that she would not have a good child. A child of hers will be bad like her. The bad ‘seed’ myth.  Further, she believes she will not make a good mother.  Yet motherhood is on of the principle reasons for women ‘changing their life’ around. So many professional women I know used to drink and party other girls but when they became mothers they put on their big girl panties and did a hell of a good job. So women can change and it does not follow that a woman diagnosed with mental illness young will produce a bad child or be a bad mother. 

Dr. Whitaker the famous child psychiatrist also said , If you want to know about how a woman feels about having children ask her how she feels her mother felt about having her.  Self fulfilling prophecies in families can be undone in counselling and routinely are. 

It’s useful to counteract mis information and disinformation with preventative medicine ‘facts’.

My favourite fact regarding child birth that I love to share, to the chagrin and groans of my female friends, is that having children is beneficial biologically for women increasing their health and longevity and reducing disease. This part is true and sadly not shared as wildly as the abortion industry data with its political baggage.  However, here’s what gets the groans, The Amish studies showed that improved health and longevity for women   held true up to 12 children. Therefore, I tell women ‘don’t have the 13th child’ . The data showed no value with having more than 12 children.

Further having children under the age of 30 causes women to have reduced risk of  future cancer and early death.  

Similarly since women have their ‘eggs’ for  life, giving birth young, age 20 to 30 is better than age 50.  As giving birth is an athletic event it’s not surprising that 20 year olds have easier less complicated deliveries than 30 year old and definitely 40 year olds.  However having a baby as a ‘teen ager’ is directly associated with poverty and social problems which translate to future health problems. 

 Probably in western culture and society the ideal time for having a baby is 25 to 30 years of age. It is significant  because men have no such ‘biological clock’.  Given the power of female pheromes and fertility coupled with sociobiology,  reproduction as male defence against fear and denial of death,  casual sex is attractive with this age group of women regardless the age of men.  That doesn’t mean the man consciously wishes to ‘father’ the child or children. It does mean that men and women are vastly different, in a society which wishes often to deny this.  Women  benefit from being ‘informed’.  

When I was doing a  specialty in community medicine and public health I learned that the doctor is a powerful source of health information which people tend to follow.  I believe in ‘informed consent’.  I believe women who have mental illness need to hear that there is no ‘general’ reason for them not to have children.  Of course they can simply not want children but this should be for that reason rather than ‘because I’m mentally ill’. 

There are valid reasons for not wanting to have children. A truly valid reason I heard from a brain injured patient for not having children was « I can not manage my own health needs I don’t believe I would be able to give the time and focus to a child. ».  The question then follows , would you want a child if that was not an impediment?

Underlying any discussion with a mentally ill person may be the idea of ‘worthiness’.   The elite commonly have children.  Justin Trudeau and Sophie have children and nannies.  Donald Trump has children.  Obama has children.  In a world where the elite have control they might simply want to reserve resources for their children and deny mentally ill women children not for their benefit but simply to reduce the competition for resources on their own children, whether they’re mentally ill or not. Power corrupts. Absolutes power corrupts. The mother of the prime minister of Canada was mentally ill and no one discouraged her from having children. Yet if she was poor and nobody would that be the case.   In general the discussion for having a child should be the same for the mentally ill and the not yet diagnosed mentally ill. This is a factor because mental illness often appears later in life. Further the sophistication of diagnosis in western countries is hundred fold beyond the diagnosis of mental illness in other parts of the world.  So many Canadian and American women would simply not have a mental illness diagnosis if they were born elsewhere. By contrast this is not true for heart disease or diabetes.

My friend wanted a PHD rather than have a child. Another friend wanted a house. Children cost money and sometimes only the elite are able to make marriages work in these anti family times.  « I don’t like children. ». Now that’s a good reason not have children. Fortunately in Canada we have a social system with a great deal of support for all women having children so that the mentally ill will as likely have social and economic support having children. Certainly in countries where there isn’t a social network mental illness is a greater stigma.

I enjoyed a mentally ill woman who said she wanted to adopt a child using much the same logic as a person uses who chooses a ‘rescue dog or cat’.  Suffering anxiety about a lot of physical symptoms she had fear of pregnancy but saw that her somewhat delineated fear would make that a challenge but she understood she would make a good parents.  She cared for her dog and her neices and everyone trusted her to baby sit. 

I sometimes hear young people in general say they don’t want children because there are too many people on the planet.  The reason that upsets me is that that was the halcyon cry of the Morgenthaller abortion industry in my youth.  Morgethaller, Jewish,   had three children but aborted so many catholic babies.   That was when the elite were having 3 babies and the ‘peasants’ were told not to reproduce.  Yet thirty years later the government is inviting all and sundry to immigrate to here, saying that there are ‘too few people’ in the west.  

Meanwhile,  the greatest means overall of  reduce third world child birth ,where the women don’t have the education or financial resources,  to ensure optimal parenting, is to address infant mortality.  Maternal education is central to reducing the size of the family which economically is associated with reducing overall the growth of population. .  Women historically have lots of children because children are an old age pension plan.  Boys are especially at risk of dying early but are also the ones who contribute most to the family income.  If children are likely to live women are more willing to have less children. 

Further maternal education regardless of religion, culture, country or race results in reduction of childbirth to the magic ‘three children’. This is the number even the ‘elite’ choose.  Replacement plus a spare. 

The trouble is the most barbaric repressive regimes deny women education . For God knows what reason feminists don’t address this issue.  Women’s liberation did. Women’s Libertation which I marched and fought for  considered female education as the means to female emancipation.  

I believe the stigma against the mentally ill is so great that women with mental illness are at risk of not having children because they feel unworthy or have low self esteem. They are at risk of being marginalized, demonized and denied what clearly the elite persist in having.  The old certainly still see the value of family though Marx and Engles were against family when they planned the communist revolution.    

Most mentally ill women have great pregnancies, easy deliveries and make great mothers.  

UBC Psychiatry Department has a specific division of enlightened brilliant compassionate female psychiatrists who specialize in Prenatal, Perinatal, and Post Natal consultations for Mentally Ill women. If any one has serious questions or concerns they can get the best answer there. Not on Google. Not from Hollywood. Not from Housewives on the Moon.    

I want women with mental illness to have the same ‘true choice’ that other women have in this regard.  I believe in education and informed consent. 

Resentment

Dear God

I will continue today to try to overcome my tendency to resentment.

I know that anger comes from failed expectations.

It’s also related to the past.

Brother Lawrence, paraphrased in part in the Power of Now, teaches that we should live in the present.

God is here and now, in the present.

I do well when I get my head in the same room as my ass.

Holding a resentment is taking poison and hoping the other guy will die.

Holding a resentment is renting a room in my mind for free to my enemy.

My resentment is to government.

To this end I have a problem with authority.

The fact is government is good and bad.

Government personnel who I’ve dealt with have been both good and bad.

My tendency to focus on the bad is a product of my cognitive distortion.

The reason for this is that my brain is hard wired by myself to come to a conclusion of me as victim.

Resentment and self pity are lovers.

The basis of my resentment is that someone, some thing, or some institution or some principle 

Has conflicted with my Money, either taken my money, threatened to take my money or infringed on my future money.  

I like to think of myself as high minded but being a normal human in this society the fact is money is the issue.

If it’s not money, it’s sex.  The second most powerful motivator is sex.  We war over money and sex.

When I say, sex, I’m referring to power and passion and self will fun riot.  

The ability to attract a mate and have that experience of lust whether now, in the past or in the future 

Is simply something I get angry about if there’s any restriction or interference.

If it’s not money or sex that I’ve a resentment about then it’s ambition.  Ambition, my ego desire to increase my power,

To go where I want to go, to have what I want to have, to be who I want to be is the essence of ego.

So if I have a conflict it’s because ‘the other guy or gal’s’ ego driven path has crossed my ego driven path 

And I don’t want to change course. 

It’s it’s not money, sex or ambition that I have a resentment about then it’s personal relationships and status.

I want to be thought well of and another person can interfere with that through what they say or do.

I might want to be seen as a good guy but this other guy has through gossip or promotion of negative gossip

Somehow lowered my esteem in the world and I have a desire to get even or kill the messenger or silence criticism.

It’s not complicated. We’re simple creatures.  We like to think of all kinds of justifications.

I am quite willing to fight the battles a million times over all in an attempt to win what I perceived as a previous loss.

Resentment is the lover of revenge.

Revenge is the tribal consciousness of pay back, get even, annihilate, destroy.

Now all this is the opposite of Love.

I want to be a loving person.

I love my family and friends but so do animals and so do the worst people

Jesus taught that to truly love I must love my enemy.  

Jesus taught that Love God and Love your neighbour as yourself is the summation of spiritual teaching.

I have to see my enemy as less evil, more sick and even though I know he is wrong, it’s more helpfu to see him as suffering.

When I perceive him through a paranoid less I’m driven by fear rather than by love.

I must learn to detach with love.

I know my government and it’s employees are failing today. They are sick. They are using 19th century ideas and reasoning

To address 21’s century problems. I know they don’t feel good about themselves at the end of the day because of their illness.

I know that many are suffering deep soul sickness.

They are like rabid dogs lashing out at anyone who threatens their money, sexual relations, ambition, status and personal relationships.

They are afraid.

So it’s certainly not very spiritual or healing to increase their fear and anger.  

Anger doesn’t come from love as much as it comes from fear.  

Righteous anger is often the disguise fear wears.

I’m wanting to learn acceptance and tolerance and live and let live.

I’m wanting to be more loving and more spiritual.

I love the serenity prayer, God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. - mostly that’s everything outside myself

Including the government and authorities.

God grant me the courage to change the things I can....that’s mostly me and my inner thoughts and feelings

Mostly God grant me the wisdom to know the difference.  

The institution of government is something I must accept.  There are leaders and followers.  The best leaders are also the best followers.

You don’t have to be a great leader to be a great follower but you do have to have been a great follower to be a great leader.

I must learn to follow better. That doesn’t mean I have to compromise my principles or do greater harm. There is wisdom to be learned.

I pray God for the wisdom and discernment that I need to go on.

I pray also that you have all of me the good and the bad.

I pray that you help me to grow in character and that I become more loving and have greater discernment.

I ask that my faith be increased as well so I will have less fear and trust more in You.  

Thank you Lord Jesus Christ, son of God.

Sad that George Has Passed

Laura reminded me that George had a good life.  She saw him in a cage at Pet Smart.  She likes the blond male cats.  George reminded her of her Jarvis who had died.  He wasn’t there when we returned but we hunted him down at a basement cat shelter.

A lovely women kept all these poor rejected boys and girls. The whole basement was a refugee camp for cats.  George was there in the corner, a real scaredy cat.  Terrified of everyone and everything, including his shadow.  

Laura loved him.

I prefer female cats and cats without the schizophrenic unloved wild dangerous look.  Laura and her love of bad boys.

She brought him home and he was mean. Jesse James all guns blazing,afraid and angry. Not going to take this any more. last stand.

He shit and pissed everywhere.  

It was a nightmare.  Laura was changing her bed every night after long days of work and by the weekend exhausted.

« I just can’t see keeping him. He’s too wild and dangerous. »

George after shitting and pissing everywhere hid under the bed and hissed.

Poor George.

He was in heaven with this crazy cat lady all set to love him but he was unable to get his head into the present and out of his awful past.  

I got under the bed, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, rubbed his nose in the poop and put him in the clean litter box full of sand.  held him there till he stopped trying to bite and claw me.

I know, CBC, Huffington Post and countless SPCA associated activists were lodging million dollar law suits against me. I was a bully. They’d rather neglect. Especially where they can be virtue signalling critics, their only solution euthanasia. It was a ‘last ditch’ effort. Do or die. George had no more chances. 

I’d left utopian academic  classrooms and Monday quarter back scenarios decades ago when I stopped wearing short pants and got a pair of jeans.  George was at  that ‘wake up and shape up’ or ‘die’ Place. Laura, his only hope, was crying. She couldn’t cope.  

He had some sort of chronic feline disease too, like Cat Aids, we were told. Not a particularly attractive guy in the marketting world.  

« That’s why we had him alone on display at Petsmart. It was kind of a last ditch effort to find him a home. No one cared for him. When he wasn’t hissing he was hiding.’

George and I talked. I told him the pissing and shitting on the furniture and bed had to go. I knew he knew about litter boxes. He’d not had the problem in the basement. This was dominance, territory stuff.  He was making Laura his bitch and Laura was way too sweet for her own good.  While I held him I talked. He stopped hissing and snarling.

George stopped shitting and pissing on the furniture after our frank discussion. Thee ancient nose shit and then show the proper place, only to be used as a very last resort, worked. There are far greater easier ways and superior ways to train a normal animal with proper time. 

Laura was fine then.  I didn’t know how. She couldn’t be doing laundry every night. Once that had stopped and George was no longer in attack cat mode,  she put up with this ass of a cat. He slowly came out and ate the food and drank the water when she was home then returned to his cat cave.  This went on then for months. I’d come over and drag him out and see he was okay. He was getting fat with Laura’s feeding. He didn’t have brain disease. He was a very smart cat.  

When nothing bad happened, Laura said, ‘I’d just talked to him when I came home. Eventually he started coming out. Then he would sit on my lap. But if I moved he’d bare his claws and snarl. I’d let him go then.  He’d come back. He liked my petting him on my lap and talking to him. »

I’d come by and see this.  The crazy wild scaredy cat, all big guy and roughness, now just a mewling little sweetheart when Laura was around. I’d come and he’d leave. He’d taken to sitting in the cupboard about the refridgerator , his perch. He watched me, jealous now. He was curious about Gilbert though. 

He came to Laura. He tolerated me.  Gilbert and he began to play. Gilbert loves cat. He was raised by his cat mother Angel.  He doesn’t know that cat’s aren’t dog’s best of friends.  George swatted him a few times.  I was concerned for Gilbert. We’d not been able to cut George’s claws.  I worried he’d hurt Gilbert who is fearless and foolish. They worked it out.  Friends but not best friends for then.

Laura loved her cat.  I’d hear about George all the time thereafter. George did this. George did that. George slept with her. George woke her up. George liked his tummy rubbed. George and she played.

Years of this girl and her cat shit.  Meanwhile when we visitted the dog and cat hung out together.  Laura and I would even leave them alone pretty sure that they’d survive. We’d go for dinner and come back and all was well.

Then Laura had the rent eviction. She was able to find the last apartment in all of the Lower Mainland, closets go for a few millions daily rent, gangs fight over the money laundered homes, bankers and lawyers are homeless, millionaires line up for shelters unable to afford Vancouver rents.  Laura wasn’t rocking the boat.  She was allowed in but no cats.  Small dogs maybe eventually but no cats. It looked like George would have to go again. 

I took George. He wasn’t happy with me.  He sure liked Gilbert. Gilbert and he shared the place. Laura brought over the scratching post he liked to sit at the top on.  I had a litter box and separate food and water. It didn’t matter. George ate Gilbert’s food and Gilbert ate George’s food.  They both thought this was a good deal. They really began to like each other.

We got into the Safeway chicken nights. Gilbert and I had these where I ate some and he ate some and now George joined it. A bonding session every week or two. Laura came every weekend or so and hung out with George and Gilbert.  I was the room mate then.  Gilbert and George would drape themselves over Laura who loved ‘her boys’.  

A year or two passed with George being loved by Laura and Gilbert and liked well enough by me. But then Gilbert developed a hereditary glaucoma. He  had to have his eyes removed. He became so depressed. I was beside myself, unable to do anything to comfort him. He was so afraid when the second eye was removed. But there was George. George became his constant companion. He never left Gilbert’s side when we were at home. Constantly being his eyes and constantly lying up against him. It took weeks but Gilbert, thanks to George, to calm right down. Eventually after all George’s nursing, and  after running again on beaches, Gilbert began enjoy good life after being blind.  What he’d gained was George. They’d been friends before but now they were the best of buddies. On their Facebook account the called each othe BFF. 

I’d wake in the morning to George waiting for Gilbert to get up so the two of them could roll around together. I’d have George walking over my face as a feline alarm clock if I tried to sleep in. He’d get Gilbert to join him and next thing I’d have a wet cockapoo licking tongue alarm clock coupled with cat paws on my face.  The two of them were ever together. I fed them in the morning then my usefulness was over and George would play with Gilbert.

Time passed and George got sick. It began with coughing. He became frail and isolated but he was drinking and eating. I thought it was just a ‘cold’ but after a week he’d stopped coughing but also stopped eating. I took him to Dr. Panel  Biernacki  at North Road Animal Hospital, great Vet.  Gilbert and George had both visitted him for their shots and really liked him and his team.  Dr. Biernacki sent him home with antibiotics and fluids to be given subcutaneous.  

Laura spent the next week coming over and nursing him. Being a doctor I could do all these things but Laura wanted to and kind of suggested that I wasn’t ‘gentle’ and ‘caring’ enough for ‘her George.’  She’s one of those protective wild grizzly bear type mothers.  Not even a doctor was good enough for her George. So she was doing the fluids and feeding him the antibiotics.  I was watching.

George rallied. I got him this really good special expensive urgent care prescription diet from Hills.  George ate it up.  He put on weight again. He and Gilbert were rolling around on the living room rug.  Laura had a cat in her lap and Gilbert draped beside her jealous.  They let her read sometimes but both nudged her to keep petting and stroking them.  She did.  I was the room mate of this little love group.

A couple of months later,  George slowed right down again. MostlyI noticed he didn’t get up to greet Gilbert first thing in the morning. He wasn’t waiting for us to wake. It wasn’t until I was having a cup of coffee before he’d join us.  Moving slowly. Weak. 

I talked to Laura. I talked to the vet assistant.  I took him in. 

Dr. Douglas was on an did a thorough exam of George, very kind and thorough. He  said he was anemic and felt his kidneys were the problem. Good young guy, reminded me of me, hundreds of years ago. Offered to refer him to the hospital. Said he didn’t think he’d make it through the night, « He’s really sick, » he assured me. 

I figured he’d make it through the night. I’d take him home and talk with Laura and talk to Dr. Biernacki the next day.  Dr. Douglas had drawn blood and the results would back by the morning. 

George was still around in the morning. He came out to rub nose with Gilbert and take a drink of water while I was drinking my coffee.

I phoned Dr. Bienecki. He answered in his soft sure voice. 

« I’m afraid your cat is dying. » he told me, «  He’s anemic and would need blood transfusions. There’s tests and hospitalization but I can’t guarantee he’d last much longer even with that. »

I had a clinic booked all day.  Laura was in her clinic with her doctor.  I called her. Told her what Dr. Biernacki had said. 

 She took the afternoon off , spent the day with George.

« He sat on my lap. We talked. He walked over and had some water. Then he’d come back and sit on my lap. I sang to him all the songs I knew from childhood. I even sang the Frank Sinatra songs my mother sang to me. » She said. 

I’d came home with Gilbert late afternoon.  Gilbert and George lay down together. 

 ‘My boys’, said Laura, tearing up.  

« I’ll take him now » she said. « if you can get him in the carrier. » She left  off to get her little red Smart Car. 

I gently picked up George for the last time. He let me put him in the carrier. 

He knew. Gilbert knew.  

When Laura returned she took the carrier from me and put him in the seat beside her . I watched her drive off with George. I’d offered to go but she wanted to be alone with George.

I shared some dinner with Gilbert. We were sad.  The euthanasia was planned for 7 pm. Dr. Biernacki had kindly offered to stay late for Laura and George.

I called her after 8 pm. 

« Dr. Biernacki let me hold him while he  gave him the needle. I held George on my lap, praying. We sat for awhile. It was very peaceful.  George was  such a good boy. »

Holy Spirit, Holy Bible

The Holy Spirit or Holy Ghost is the third person of the triune God.

35 biblical verses are specifically about the Holy Spirit

In the gospels the following is recorded.

“And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever.”

John 14:16

“But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have said to you.”

“When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father - the Spirit of truth who goes out from the Father - he will testify about me.”

John 15:26

“And I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water told me, “The man on whom you see the Spirit come down and remain is the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.”

John 1:33

In the separate Gospel (Good News):

“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always , to the very end of the age.”

Matthew 28:19-2-

“But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said. “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”

Matthew 1:20 

“Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.”

Matthew 12:32

In another Gospel (Good News):

“If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

Luke 11:13

“When all the people were being baptized, Jesus was baptized too. And as he was praying, heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven. “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”

Luke 3.21-22

In yet another Gospel:

“Whenever you are arrested and brought to trial, do not worry beforehand about what to say. Just say what is given you at the time, for it is not you speaking, but the Holy Spirit.”

Mark 13:11

The Holy Spirit is spoken of in the Old Testament as well, the New Testament of the Bible being what which came after Jesus since he said he was bringing a new accord. The Old Testament was the record of the relationship of the God Yahveh with the Jewish people.  By comparison Jesus spoke more to God as a personal saviour. The Covenant of the Old Testament, part of which is the Torah, was the communication between God and the Jewish People. Yet here too there is reference to the Holy Spirit.  

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.”

Genesis 1:1-2

The Prophet Ezekiel, speaking of God,  is recorded as saying 

“And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.”

Ezekiel 36:27

The great prophet Isaiah would would foretell the coming of the Lord Jesus said:

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim the good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.”

Isaiah 61:1

The Holy Spirit is even spoken of in the Psalm or ‘songs’ of the Old Testament, which Jesus himself quoted:

“Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground.”

Psalm 143:10

“Where can I go from your Spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go to the heavens, you are there;

If I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”

Psalm 139:7-8

The Acts are the first book in the New Testament after the Gospel and thought to be written by the apostles regarding the early church. 

There the Holy Spirit is spoken of as well:

“They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.”

Acts 2:3-4

“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Jude’s and Samaria, and to the ends of the world.”

Acts 1:8

“Peter replied, “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. Any you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.”

Acts 2:38

“And they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God goody.”

Acts: 4:31

“Surely no one can stand in the way of their being baptised with water. They have received the Holy Spirit just as we have.”

Acts 10:47

“We are witnesses of these things, and so i the Hoy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey him.”

Acts 5:32

“While they were worshipping the Lord and fasting , the Holy Spirit said, “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.”

Acts 13:2

“On hearing this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. When Paul placed his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came on them, and they spoke in tongues and prophesied.”

Acts 19:5-6

 In the New Testament, after the death and resurrection of Jesus, Son of God, there are letters were written to the new Churches, here too the Holy Spirit is spoken of:

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

2Corinthians 3:17

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit”

Romans 15:13

“Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s spirit feels in your midst?”

1 Corinthians 3:16

“But you, dear friends, by building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.”

Jude 1:20-21

All the Christian churches. Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant teach of the Holy Spirit. The Pentecostal denomination of Protestant Christians has made the study and experience of the Holy Spirit most central in their faith. Having attended many church I find each has it’s emphasis and appeal. I love the history and ritual of the Catholic Church, the mysticism of the Orthodox Church, the focus on civil liberties of the Baptist Church, the clear thought of the Reformed church, the peacefulness of the Quakers and Mennonites, the emphasis on the Holy Spirit of the Pentecostal.  The Church is community. It is a village in a city.  It’s a neighbourly place where people who might otherwise be strangers gather together to study and grow deeper with guidance of the wisdom of the ages.  The Holy Spirit guides and nurtures.  Some say it’s an inside job. The Holy Spirit works within us and through us.  

Holy Spirit Come.  Come Holy Spirit Come.  

Holy Spirit

Jesus said he’d send the Holy Spirit. The Pentecost was when the Holy Spirit descended later on the gathering of the disciples.

I’ve had trouble with the basic trinity. I accept God the Father and God the Son.  But it’s family to say, God the Mother rather than Holy Spirit. My mother however did know everything that was going on and seemed to be everywhere when I was growing up. She’s always been like the Holy Spirit.

So I gave it a little more thought. The basis Jesus story is that a whole bunch of folk are making money of God claiming that they’re his agents.  Jesus throws these out of his temple and further pisses them off by saying that God is love. He says that God is a ‘servant God’ not a swaggering, arrogant, fear mongering, punishing God.  He is whacked of course. That’s the story of the Bible. The leadership of government kills him. The local and global government of the day both conspire to kill the Son of God.  

So Jesus rises from the grave. Yes, death is not permanent.  Jesus raised Lazarus before he walked out of the cave after the crucifixion and visitted his disciples.  Even ‘doubting’ Thomas accepted that this was Jesus and he had risen from the grave.  This earth life is temporary. The bullies are only in temporary control. The big picture is a loving God.

So I imagine if I was killed by the government I’d have when I was young said, “Don’t worry I’m sending my mother!”  Holy Spirit is code for “mother’.  Not only would my mother comfort my friends but she’d kick ass.  

We’ve seen since the time of Jesus that ungodly governments, especially those treating their people badly have come to very bad ends.  I think this is Jesus’ spiritual mother reigning divine retribution on the unwashed and ungodly.  

Just my thoughts on the matter.  I think it’s spiritually sound even if the theology hasn’t caught up with the story.  The trinity is mother father son.  I’m waiting for the Christ Sequel where Jesus identical twin sister Jennifer comes saying God is love and stop using his temple to make money.  The government rapes and kills Jennifer.  Tom Hanks may play in a new movie in which her baby fertilized egg is extracted and a new genetic strain is created with super powers.  She comes alive, out of the morgue, meets with her disciples, all the tattooed sisters.  They watch her rise to join God and Jesus.  She says I’m sending my mother. 

Now the Mother Holy Spirit having just got some rest after doing all that stuff for Jesus now has to get off her reclining chair and come back and whack the evil doing government bureaucrats and security council leaders because they’ve now killed her holy daughter.  

Family is Christian. The Church is family. The Holy Spirit is the comforter.  St. Michael whacks enemies too. Maybe the Holy Spirit imbues St. Michael with power and St. Michael whacks the enemies.  I’m supposed to be forgiving. It’s easier to be forgiving of my enemies if I know my mother is keeping score and karma is right on track. Just a Christian thought.  

PS.  Jesus was not a chimera.  The DNA of Jesus is not God Y and Mary, mother of God, X.  Jesus was all God and all man.  If he was only God he’d not suffer so much and if he was only man he’d not have superpowers.  At the time they actually thought that God used the womb of Mary as the ‘soil’ too.  Women’s contribution to genetics in patriarchal Judaic days of old was not what modern scientists Watson and Crick discovered.  Obviously God can turbocharge human DNA and people who have had grand spiritual experiences have been seen to others a ‘glowing’, like mother glow when they are carrying babies.  God makes the children of God glow.  Mary Mother of God is called the mother not because she solely gave birth to Jesus but because she raised him. We’re all said to be adopted brothers and sisters of Jesus.  

St.Barnabus Anglican Church, Welcome

“A beacon on the hill where are all welcome.”

I am glad I made it to church. I say I’m a winter christian because in the summer I’m rarely in the city.  It’s the 6th Sunday after Pentecost.
Gilbert barks when we are getting close to the church.  Today he was so pleased to meet Bill’s new companion, Turbo.  He really likes Fritz.  I tell people that Gilbert was blessed by the Bishop though we’re not sure it ‘took’.  He still steals the cat’s food.

I loved the hymns today. Sathia plays such a fine piano.  The choice of music was inspired.  Not surprising, given that they’ve begun a new choir.  Rev. Emilie will be studying this summer with Paul Vassili’ye, who is director of “music that makes community”. He will be helping to host the Sacred Singing Circle.

The Sermon was on Martha and Mary, These were the sisters who were friends of Jesus.One was busy while the other sat listening to Jesus.  The latter was elevated.  This has been taken as the direction towards the contemplative. The Church family is about activity and contemplation. At St. Barnabus so many participate in community

Rev. Emilie had been helping the Urban Aboriginal Ministry this week. I learned from Rev.Vivian that they are having a camp out this week in Abbotsford. Miraculous weather for the occasion. 

It was good to see the new baby in church. I enjoyed Eurcharist. Later I enjoyed talking to Bill.  

Now I’m outdoors again for the afternoon sunshine. 

Praise the Lord. 

Yesterday was a good day

What constitutes a good day?  Yesterday.  Today I hope will be as well.

It’s summer. The sun is shining.  We’ve had several days of pleasant temperatures, sunshine, blue sky, the loveliest of weather.

I woke and meditated. The more I meditate again, the more I enjoy meditating. Like going to the gym. The mind is a muscle. I’m strengthening capacity. . I’m also ‘listening to God.’  Closing of the cacophony of thoughts nad talk.  All the ‘me-ness’ is quieted so that I might hear the ‘wee small voice’ of you.

I’m doing that after wakening. Plus sit ups.  Diabetes is about ‘girth’.  The doctor’s say the ‘belt size’ is what matters.  The pear shape.  The sphere shaped. I’ve been ‘out of shape’ for a couple of years, begun by stress and reduced exercise due to injury and persisting or increased intake due to ‘couch’ and screen’.  

Then I had Ethiopian expresso and comfort food ‘shreddies’.  Breakfast.  Taking the time for simple things. A weekend of steady speed but none of the week day rush of the ‘clock’ and time and the factory sense of going in one end of the day to spit out the other, exhausted.  Instead, it’s a ‘day off’.  

I cleaned.  I have been seeking a new cleaning lady for years but who can I trust?  I don’t want someone complaining about ammunition that has fallen out of cammo jacket and hidden.  I don’t want sex toys to shock the innoscent. I don’t want women’s clothing xlarge sizes to be a matter of contempt.  I don’t want my writing to be judged.  I feel vulnerable. The stuffed bear causes me as much concern as the cock ring or the chemistry set.

There is the ‘narrow’ sliver of reality where I feel I am ‘safe’.  For years I meditated in private and burnt incense, an out cast in my neighbourhood.  Doing yoga so many years before it became the ‘in thing’.  Constantly frowned on. Hiding the fasting. Hiding the prayer. Hiding the glass of wine, the smoking marijuana. The sex with women who would later become wives then it would be ‘okay’ but not the oral sex or doggy style, just missionary position.  

I was in a nursing home and felt sad for the men in one room.....four of them in beds....and the attendant there, judgement, frightened, uneducated, inexperienced, but powerful.

I stood out as a child. The teachers stripped me and strapped me and showed my red beaten bottom to all the class. I was whipped in public.  I suspect it leaves some scars but today there are so many of us. Outsiders, not one of the ‘designated victim’ categories.  

My wealthy friend was severely shamed and beaten and now fear growing old being controlled.

It’s all trust issues.  

Mostly I don’t think about these things.  I get on with life. I clean my own dishes. I’ve been the “wife” for 20 years to female doctors.  I did as I was told. I conformed. I’m immensely good at conforming.I’ve been like all who become leaders so very good at following orders and taking direction.

My cohort of men die shortly after retirement because they lose purpose, direction, and meaning. 

The meaning of my life has as long as I can remember, ‘to know you, God’. Everything else has been like picking flowers along the trail. I’ve been since a child trying to figure out this ‘experience’. I’ve tasted everything that looked sweet. I’ve been poisoned countless times. I’ve tried everything that I could imagine would give clarity to the murkiness of being.  

I’ve worn so many identities. I always hear Donovan’s song, ‘the doctor bit was so far out....looking through crystal spectacles.....I believe I’ve had your fun’.

Yesterday I read.  I love reading. It’s only that I used to have a schedule of reading an hour of ‘heavy’ reading - science, chemistry, neurology, psychiatry, philosophy, theology, ....for hours everyday I’d read hours of ‘that sort’. I read so many textbooks.  On the side, to keep my interest in the ‘reading’ process I’d read something ‘light’.  A novel, humor, poetry, travel, literature. 

Because I am a writer I read wide and far. I’ve read comic books, pornography, horror, every genre known to man, and countless, ‘how to’ books. I especially liked Joseph Campbell.  I was interested in the ‘story teller’.  I studied the ‘structure’ of the ‘joke’. I read all these writings as a ‘guild thing’.  

I’ve taken to enjoying reading ‘light’ stuff. I’ve not read a ‘Science’ or “Nature” magazine cover to cover in a few years. I used to read the monthly journals in my field until I wrote a letter to the editor and told him he was ‘irreleveant’.  An academic who long stopped caring about clinicians.  Increasingly so little in my field has relevance and stokes the ego of some financially related project of self aggrandizement.

I still research everything.  If I don’t have an answer I look it up. But it’s less compelling.  I’ve done everyone else’s job in my life and worked such long hours and to exclusion of so much to ‘serve’.  The Christian ‘servant king’ example. 

Now I struggle with ‘bitterness’.  I’ve a very fine old man wanting to die. I’ve always convinced people to live because they’ve been unable to convince me to die  But I was so hurt this last encounter with the Borg like low brow of the College bureaucracy with their callous grandiosity and pompous stupidity that I felt ‘god why have you forsaken me.’  They cannot even tell a lie when it’s kicking them in the eye.  They celebrate lies over truth.  A sick sociopath there said “women don’t lie about sex’. She was psychotic with power and privilege.  Deeply disturbed and dangerous≥ She knew no ‘truth’ let alone objective scientific truth.  They didn’t even know what was so terribly wrong with them. So much denial in beurocracy and mirroring committees to echo each other. They eschew any opinion but their own≥. 

They have been killing people with their insensitivity and ignorance and I was suicidal then again.  The fleeting thoughts.  Faced with this man and woman who preened themselves, the ‘teacher’s pets’.  I have this goon as a nation leader and a war going on in the Security council.  I don’t have much faith in this world.

I’m turning more and more to God.  

The men were stripped of their guns and uniforms. They couldn’t get an erection without viagra.  They could have all the dirty thoughts they wanted but the care giver didn’t speak English. They stared at the ceiling.  Veterans.  There in that room.  

I met the head of psychiatry for University of California.  He was slightly demented.  He had a couple of poor uneducated people following him about loyal and kind but just there for the ‘extra’ really.  

I’m playing and singing ‘Streets of London” again. “Have you seen the old man in the closed down market......have you seen the old gal....have you seen the old man......how can you tell me you’re lonely?

It was a good day with my dog and the cat. I’ve been worried about the cat, Gilbert’s best friend. He’s been skinny and not gaining weight again.  Sort of less engaged.  Waking late.  I’d thought to take him to the vet but he rallied and hung out with us eating the special diet I got at the vets.  He’s drinking and active but not so happy. Gilbert is darling.  They’re such good buddies.

So I walked Gilbert. An hour along the river. I took pictures of flowers. I love taking pictures like I enjoy reading. I even got lawn chairs and lay in the sun when I got back.  I’m brown today.  

Then in the afternoon I rode the Harley over to Nanda Jeweller and had a clasp repaired but also bought some gold.  I love Ganesh gold.  It makes such good gifts.  He has diamonds now. It was good to see Ganesh and laugh.  His son was there and we talked about camping and India.  There had been a fellow running about Vancouver stabbing people with needles and they showed me the video.  

I think of needles as weapons.  The men with disease who raped women. I admire women, their courage and faith with men.  Naked in rooms. Accepted foreign fluid, gifts of uncertainty, vaginas and other orifices.  

I’m afraid of disease. I’m afraid of slow death. I’m afraid of cancer.

It makes sense to send old men to war. Death by bullet seems more appealing to lingering boredom.  Ganesh said he’d jump out of a plane if I wanted company. He figures his heart could do that. I worry about my knee. I’m not doing the grouse grind again.  My knee is much better but I need a protection tattoo.  More barbed wire or mail. An excuse for ink. Inks’s another addiction.  

For decades I listened to men and women of every walk of life.  The free association of their unconscious. Their ‘shame’ and ‘humiliation’ anger and fear.  

Week in week out. Thousands , a cross section.  

I’ve listened to countless nightmares.  I’ve heard such sadness from the refugees who have been imprisoned for “different ideas’, “different expression’.  I’ve seen women and men permanently crippled from be4ing in jails and asylums . They come here to escape further torture.

I don’t quite know how they do it. Compartmentalization.  

I know the ‘truth’ and now the ‘propaganda’ of the CBC and other mainstream media news outlets irritates and offends me.  Public lies on a grand scale.  The people individually have reported their experience and I ‘ve heard it. It’s consistent with what I can ‘find’ but what’s being ‘told’ is so very different.  

I’m disillusioned.  But I still say ‘carry on’.  Keep on ‘trucking’.  I remember convincing everyone having ‘bad trips’ back when , it’s going to be okay. I convinced women to climb out of trees.  

I visitted my friend John.  I was sorry I’d interrupted his meal.  I thought I’d arrived earlier but they serve dinner at 5 there.  It was fun talking of friends and God and music. I told him of the Paul McCartney c oncerrt.  He  told me of seeing Jimmy Hendrix.

I remember with Canadian ex pats sharing like that. 

I looked in at three chinese men in one room and wondered if they were Christian, what class they were from, whether they were Hong Kong or Main land or Taiwan, Canucks fans or soccer fans, ex military, or criminal.  They were not talking to each other. One smiled at an orderly.  I suppose they had family.

I’m alone.  I devoted twenty years to marriage for family and children but they were feminists and princess and the thought of children was so secondary. But then I am the writer of my life. With God we chose each other. Women who didn’t want children and I who did but obviously didn’t. The outcome is a product of the conscious and unconscious.  In the Jungian collective unconscious we are unconsciously working out our karma and our lifetimes.  I chose them and they chose me to do the drama of marriage and sterility and divorce. Women have actually been shown to be able to avoid a sick man whose sickness causes infertility. Women choose the intellectuals for the kindliness. They choose the steady eddy for the family. Bad girls are attracted to bad men. Business women , business men.  I was attracted to them for beauty and as buddies.  I love the company of intelligent women.  

The more intelligent women are the more curious and more accepting of difference.  Studies show that the more wealthy and independent the kinkier the woman is.  The masses don’t have sex toys because they’re fully focused on their own livelihood and conforming and raising their children as their shot at immortality.

I’m completely trained for outer space flight. I’ve all the skills to be picked for a space mission. Ships captain.  Doctor.  Sniper. I’m ready for an expedition through the planets and there’s not been a trip back to the moon in 50 years.  That’s really a conundrum. Why we didn’t colonize the moon.  The space station is one thing. But the moon. And mars.

Meanwhile I’ve been trying in my spare time to levitate and promised myself I’d jump yesterday but didn’t. I didn’t check to see if I could fly. I didn’t jump in the air as a child does. I’ve been so heavy and beaten down by the constant grind of working with Cretan overlords.  Vorgon Borg master race with their guns and punishment models.  Humiliation and shame.

I’m struggling against ‘bitternenss’.  I can help individuals. I work in a system where I can still ‘serve’. I have this accumulated knowledge that fetches a price.  

Yet yesterday I enjoyed most riding my motorcycle and walking the dog.  

Then I ate barbecued chicken sharing it with the cat and dog and watched several episodes of Salvation.  It’s a series about the asteroid ending the earth and some scientists building a defence against the asteroid and an escape pod for colonization of mars.

I’m too old for that. I’ve a boat for sailing around the world and a camper and truck for touring North America and a bike and tent for travelling light. It’s a long way from when I hitch hiked across the country staying in communes and playing guitar for meals.  

I slept so well last night.  It was a good day. So long and full and yet accomplished.  I even tried to make a key to start the storage locker declutter but the key could not be made.  Even little tasks like that move things forward. I threw out a lot of excess and waste.  I even bought more medicine for the dog and cat.  That cat’s not come out this morning. I cleaned under the couch where he had this burrow and I believe he’s disturbed by my cleaning his ‘space’. He ‘s got new kitty litter.

When I meditate my mind is like this at first.   Pin balling from thought to thought. 

I can focus on God. God is focused on me.  We’re in sync but it’s not clear as to whether  God is needing me much right now. I’m often on the ‘bench’.  A lot of Christians are waiting on the ‘bench’. We’re in the game but we’re not needed on the ice this minute.  I’m like that a lot.  PResent.

I even played guitar and sang for an hour.  70’s songs. Nostalgia. I’ve been in nostalgia a lot since Paul McCartney and the exercise of autobio, reflection on life.

I’m still carrying too many resentments.  Mostly government. Which ultimately is ‘anger with God’.  It’s also in the past. There was no bureaucrat yesterday and there is none today. So I bring this past encounter with the Jack Nicholson clown characters, the dung beatles, into my present awareness. I’m the one that seeds my day with the ugliness of the past.

God gives me what I focus on. That’s the law of attraction. I must let go of the past experiences of hurt and betrayal. I must believe that these deeply stupid and evil people will meet what they deserve and/or learn and grow. I hope they will one day compensate me for their crimes.  For now I’m thankful that they are not on my radar.  They’re like drunken Zeus like character raping and pillaging.  The idea of compensation is so liberal, the stoned PM apologizing to everyone but not to me. Giving money to everyone, but not to mer.  I’d like 10 million dollars but I’m not going to kill an American soldier for it. 

Dana Davidson and Fiamengo and Jordan Peterson and Lindsay are all fighting the good fight. I don’t have to eviscerate and stalk. I don’t have to wipe out the genetic strain of my enemies. 

What I do have to do is focus on the positive. I have to recognize that God gives me more of what I enjoy, God a loving God , a law of attraction program. Focus on the positive and more positive will come to me.  I had such a day yesterday.

Today I’m actually planning on going to church. I might wear a white bra and panties. In the era of boys we wore white hats and ivory handled pistols in holsters.  Today in girls world there’s bras and panties and we cry.  Psychopaths who are heartless chameleon lizards cry best.   

It’s a while since I wore lipstick and did my nails. I’m a very lazy cross dresser at best. .  I used to enjoy a life of costume. White lab coats. Blue mechanics uniforms.  I loved getting dressed in stockings for hockey. As a kid I loved the baseball cap. I think my favourite clothing of all time is the sarong or the cut off khaki shorts. I identify as sailor.  I once loved the cammo and all the gear on my back, the rifle and hunting essentials. I could go days and nights in the outback. But now in the city I’d rather wear silk, soft and easily moving, feminine.  I’m disarmed .  The War on Boys. If raper is inervitabler better to enjoy it. Lie back and think of. Canada seems to summ it up these days. 

I remember the day my patient told me about ‘stretchy jean’ material and the day I got my first expandable jeans. I was in heaven.  As we age different things are more important. 

There’s a science fiction novel I read as a kid where the man and women wore this material like an extra skin that was impermeable to the elements but felt liking nothing on. I’ve always wanted that blue space suit which could be coupled with a helmet for air.  I’d like a babble fish translator. 

I have a Dick Tracy watch from Apple..  I’ve had all the dreams of childhood fulfilled. 

I’m blessed beyond my wildest dreams. Today I’m enjoying the presence of the dog and cat and the light falling on the Persian carpet zebra like because of the slats of the Venetian blinds I like. I miss the hard wood floors I’ve installed in houses I’ve improved.  I’ve taken several houses and had them rewired, new roofs, new floors, immense improvements at great costs only to be enjoyed by a lucky buyer.  I’ve learned so much trade at some time. I enjoyed the diesel mechanics.  Never got any good at refrideration though am good with heat and adequate with electrical. The fact that I was good with a knife was fine but I cut a piece of meat at the table wrong despite butchering thousands of pounds of meat. I always focus on the one mistake, never remembering the multitude of success.  I set such a high bar. I’m only happy with the A+. 

Perfectionism haunted me in years best. Not compared to others but my previous score or performance.  Constantly competing against yesterday.  Moving forward.  

I remember most the day my wife and I escaped ‘devil’s hole’.  Nursing that boat inch by inch ahead of the expanding ship killer. Whirlpool  She was at the helm, Katherine Hepburn, and I was Bogart keeping the engine running, pouring oil that was leaking because a dope stoned mechanic had left a screw out and the problem became apparent in the emergency. That hour of near death. And an African Queen moment. She was amazing at the helm. I was amazing with the diesel. We survived. Together we could live and rise to the occasion but she preferred her drugs and her bed and her bad memories. 

I was blessed to be with such remarkable men and women. Even now I have countless invitations and I prefer time alone with my dog and am concern with the cat though he’s up and has eaten a tablespoon of food.  I’m reduced to worrying about cats and once I saved a dozen children in a meningitis epidemics. The mismanagement of resources by this government in the microcosm and macroscosm is criminal but they’re getting rich and that’s all they care about.  I’m having an adventure so who am I to judge.  I’ve been on my own African Queen. I know what it’s like to be shot at. I know what it’s like to be lost in the wilderness. I know a whole bunch of arcane things. I’ve set fractures alone in the country, delivered babies in cots.  I’ve talked to the demonic and even believe I cast out demons. I’ve gone to patients surrounded by swat teams and got them to let me in and talked them out of their guns. It’s a silly life.  

I have these odd memories.  And today in the light I see the spots on the fridge I missed when I cleaned the kitchen yesterday.  

I’d better get dressed. Gilbert likes going to church.  I’m a winter Christian but today I’ll make an appearance.  My mother would be pleased though she’s not fond of the papal rituals in the churches I attend. She was comforted by the ‘word’.  

I’ve stopped the heavy reading. It was always an hour of heavy and 10 minutes of light reading. Now I’m reading westerns for an hour, right now it’s English historical fiction, and I’m only putting 10 minutes into a neurology text that’s just catching me up on neurotransmitter behaviour understood in the last year. I review these things in addition to the audio tapes and the on line reports.  All the learning didn’t protect me from the low brow thugs.  The selection for bureaucrats is no longer based on wisdom and experience but rather on ideological stupidity.  And who you’re fucking or who you know whose fucking who.  But was it ever different. My idealism was adolescent. 

I am grateful for this lovely sunny day, the coffee, the running water, the clothing, the friends and family, the dog and cat, and good company and fine vehicles and safe neighbourhood. I’ve a day off.  Another day. It’s hardly begun.  I’ve been able to do nothing really. Journaling.

Journaling like this is ‘squeezing the pus out of the brain’ . It’s trashing files. It’s clearing the slate. It’s opening up some room for God.  I really want you today Jesus. Come Holy Spirit come. Restore my soul. Cleanse my heart of bitterness and rage. Help me to always see your love in all.  Help me to increase my faith and trust. Help me to be more grateful .  Thank you Jesus. 

  

Dear Lord

Okay Lord, here we are again. You’ve clearly woken me up for this day.  I thank you for the dog and cat. The indoor plumbing is great too.  I loved the expresso machine and refridgerator, shreddies, yoghurt and hot and cold running water. Meditating was good as always. Exercising a bit iffy. Reading the jokes my friends sent me was a good start.  I have that frown today.

What’s it about?  I gather we’re still spinning on a planet around an unnamed sun in a galaxy in the armpit of the expanding universe with limited life span and faith and belief in the after life because I woke up today and frankly believing I won’t wake up is unscientific low brow nonsense.  The statistics supported my wakening today, subjectively, as I have.

I don’t feel alone. You may be the conjugate consciousness of my dog and cat but I rather feel you’re something more. A higher power.  The creator. I also feel that we have a communication. I believe prayer works. I’ve seen countless examples of miracles and won’t let the unimaginative reductionist thugs dependent on weapons to promote their limited vision sway me. There’s infinite possibility but I’m limited in faith and have given up trying to fly. I can use the planes and yet I remember a time when I jumped and jumped and jumped.

Now I look back I gave up too soon.

I gave up smoking because I didn’t stop quitting.  

Today I’ll shyly ‘jump’ when no one is looking, maybe put my arms out about my head, and perhaps have faith and belief enough to get a better altitude. I’ve been beaten down by cretans in power, Vorgons, and censorship and unbelieving money men and money women. I want to forgive them.  Let them go. Acceptance.  I want to jump today and pray.

I know my soul can fly on Eagles wings.

Perhaps so can I.

Trinitarian God

The Christian God is a Trinitarian God.  Three persons of God in One God. 

God, the Father

God, the Son

God, the Holy Spirit

God, the father, is the monotheistic God of the Jews.  This is the Creator God.  This is the God that Moses met at the Burning Bush. The Persian Zoroastrian God was the God of Fire.  When Moses asked the Burning Bush who he was, the bush was talking to him.  The answers was I am Yahweh.

Yahweh was never to be spoken so the name of God was kept only as constanents.  YHWH.  This was translated to ‘JEHOVAH” by William Tyndale and in the King James Bible. God was called Adonai or “Lord” by the Jews as well.  So the vowels from the name Adonai were placed in YHWH to create the name Jehovah.  

YHWEH is translated today to be Yahweh or Yahveh, meaning, “I am , that is who I am.”   God the father, is existence itself.

Jesus called god “Eloi” in the most famous line in the suffering on the cross, “Eloi, Eloi lama sbachtani?”  “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’

I liked to call God, My Lord.  

Jesus also called God, ABBA. ABBA is a child’s name of father, the diminutive, like Papa, or Daddy. Apparently this ‘offended’ the religious of his day as God was perceived as austere and ruling.  The hierarchies were rigid in the militaristic societies of conquer or be conquered.  

Jesus, the son is the life story of the Christian New Testament of the Holy Bible.  Jesus, of the line of King David of the Jews, was prophecized in Isaiah, the prophet of the Old Testament.  He was born of Mary.  Herod, the King of the Jews, who at the time were under the dominion of the Roman Emperor as a conquered country of the Rome Empire, with Pontius Pilate as the regional administrator, a superstitious tyrant, who’d chop off the head of a prophet to please his daughter so she’d have sex with him, declared that the children under two in the land should be killed. .  

Jesus was born in the barn, a manger, in Bethlehem. I’ve visitted there and felt the presence of the holy and sacred like millions of others who have pilgrimaged to Israel before me.  The place and the people I met there were glowing as was I with the presence and awareness of the Godly.  Suffice it to say, the hair on my neck stood up, my heart expanded and my chest felt like it would explode as my whole being was suffused in a depth of love. Those pilgrims I joined there sang a hymn together in a half dozen different languages and felt as family, like we were one and were ever joined in this moment of worship and presence.

Jesus’s earthly father Joseph, took Mary and Jesus to Egypt to escape Herod’s decree.

When they returned there is an interesting story of teacher as a child teaching the wisest men of his day, his knowledge of God, reality and scripture, being so ahead of his age.  

John the Baptist whose head Herod would later take and display, would baptise followers in the Jordan.  Jesus was baptised by him but a dove descended from heaven and the words’ This is my son’ came from the skies.  

Jesus would gather his disciples, starting with Peter, the fisherman.  There were 12 disciples. Jesus would teach and perform miracles.  The miracles were recorded as was his story in the 4 gospels of the Holy Bible.  Gospel means good news.

The good news was that there was life after death and all men, not just the priests, could know ‘life eternal’ if they believe in Jesus.  Jesus was called , Jesus, the Christ, or Jesus the Messiah.  The Messiah was a Jewish prophecy of the son of God coming to earth to free the people. The Jews believe that this son of God would be a warrior.  Jesus said that his Kingdom was the Kingdom of Heaven. Asked about money, he showed that Caesar’s face was on the coin and said ‘give unto Caesar, Caesar’s due’.  It has ever been said that he who has only money is a very poor man indeed.

Jesus taught love. He said that all scripture could be summed up as “Love God and Love thy neighbour as yourself.”  He taught many parables, teaching stories that required thought to understand the true meaning.  He was a story teller and through stories helped his listeners understand the Kingdom of Heaven, God, and man’s relationship to God.  

Jesus was a healer and healed the sick. He taught peace and love.  He loved children.  He felt all men and women could return to God regardless of where their lives before had lead them.  He raised the dead.  

The Priests of the Day were threatened by him for his was highly critical of the administration of the church (synagogues) of the day and the leading citizens of the community.  

The leaders of the Jewish community arrested him and took him to Pontius Pilate so that he could be killed. Pontius Pilate the Roman representative had the power to declare death as punishment. He declared that Jesus would be crucified.

So Jesus, a true innoscent, except that there is no ‘freedom of speech’ in tyrannies’ and ‘censorship’ is the work of the wicked and teaching love and peace and that there is life after death and that there is a God who loves each and every one of us is the greatest rebellious teaching of all time , was crucified on the cross at Golgotha.

His mother, Mary and John witnessed it, being there at the cross.  

He rose from the grave and this was witnessed by his close disciples and hundreds of others. He appeared to them and ST. Thomas touched the wounds on his hands where the spikes had gone through to nail him to the cross.  He subsequently ascended into Heaven.

He said that he would send the “Holy Spirit” to comfort his followers.  Pentecost was the day when the Holy Spirit descended on the gathering of disciples after the crucifixion.  They spoke in tongues and miracles occured.  The Holy Spirit was like flames.  

This small group of followers then went forth and ‘spread the good news’ establishing churches all over the known world of the day.  The ‘good news of Jesus’ spread along the water ways to Spain, France and Ireland, to Rome and Greece and Constantinople/Istanbul, and to Syria and India and to Ethiopia.  In a mere hundred years the good news of Jesus, loving God, love and life after death spread throughout civilization.  

By 300 years it became the Roman Catholic Church, the state religion of the greatest Roman Empire today.  

Today Billions of Christians have testified to the experience of knowing Jesus.  Christians continue to be the most persecuted people in the world.  In Canada and the United States 70% or more, millions upon millions, identify as Christian.  There are Catholic Christians, Orthodox Christians, Protestant Christians, liberal, conservative and evangelical Christians.  All share the Love of God and Love of Jesus and love the Holy Bible, the teaching of the faith and history of Christianity.  

God, the father

God, the son,

God, the Holy Spirit.

In the Gospel of John, it begins, 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” 

It always amuses me when non scientists think scientists don’t believe in God or Jesus.  Most scientists thought the ages have considered themselves Godly man.  The Big Bang to anyone who has the capacity for abstraction and metaphor a scientists way of saying ‘the word’. Indeed ‘string theory’ is all about harmonics and vibration and sound, or electromagnetic resonance.  

“Holy Spirit, Come” was the prayer of my teacher.

My Sweet Lord.

Hallelujah.  

Gratitude for Wednesday

Thank you God for this Wednesday, this ‘hump day’. Thank you for the full moon and rain through the night. Thank you for sleep and awakening. Thank Jesus love and sacrifice. Thank you for Gilbert who joined me this morning, his little cockapoo body cuddling up against mine after I pressed the snooze button on my iPad alarm. Thank you for George the cat who rubbed against me as I walked into the living room. Thank you for the coffee, especially this Ethiopian Sidano. Thank you for Shreddies. I bought these yesterday not having had them in decades.I enjoyed the nostalgia and flavour. Thanks always for the yoghurt.

Thank you for my clothing and vehicles. Thank you for showers and soap.  Thank you for heat and hot water. Thank you for family and friends. Thank you for what is here and what is there. Thank you for discernment and learning and ideas and empathy. Thank you for the Holy Book.  Thank you for inspirational writing. Thank you for spirituality. Thank you for social media. Thank you for news. Thank you for distribution channels. Thank you for all who work and serve. Thank you for the air and the wind.

Thank you for plants and forests. Thank you for camping.Thank you for ice cream. Thank you for the Kreb Cycle. Thank you for the periodic table. Thank you for string theory. Thank you for levitation and telepathy and intuition.  

Please God guide me today. Show me what it is you want me to see. Help me in my reflection. Help me in my healing. Help me do for others what they need. Help me help reduce their suffering, those who come to see me. Help me see your light and be a beacon to others. Help me be uplifting. Help me help others overcome their addiction and their self defeating ways.

Help me Lord.  Show me. Teach me. Succour and comfort me and those I serve.  

Help me to see the positive and focus on the positive. Help me to be in this day and not be distracted by the resentments of yesterday and fears of tomorrow.  

Thank you Lord. 

Dear God

Here we are again God.  I know you’re here. It’s your dream. I’m a co dreamer at best. If I’m the great great kahoona or the systems guy I’d have more conscious control over the way things work and go.  I could say , okay I’ll have a billion dollars today and poof it would be there. That’s not worked so well for me.

So we seem in this together.  

Your locus according to the ancients is inside.  The heart or centre of the centre. The Yogi says “I am the bubble make me the see”.

I want to know you.  I want to feel you. I want to be lead by you. I want to be guided by you. I want that ‘fucking” ‘wee small voice to be a bit louder’. I’m deaf. I’ve hearing aids. Where’s the God aid.

Okay there’s Gilbert. He’s definitely a reminder. Pulls the wee small heart strings for sure.

But what am I to do today.  I’ve patients and work and there’s a whole routine in place for leaving the home showered and shaved.I’ll go through this. I’ll get into the car. That routine is losing it’s appeal. Maybe the fear of mad men and mad women in other cars and the cost of repairs and the whole insurance claim business , well, it makes walking more appealing.

Please Lord relieve the pain and the wear and tear phenomena on the joints.  Restore the youth and lubrication to those parts that need them most. 

Help me be less of an asshole.

I’m not enjoying my company at times. Mostly I don’t know what I’m doing here.

Words like ‘meaning’, ‘purpose’ and ‘reason’ all seem to plague my very existence. Always have.

I’ve also fought a lot.  I don’t seem to be that offensive but it’s been a life of defensive actions against bullies and those with ‘position authority’.

The reformer is the enemy of those who benefit from the status quo.  I’ve been a reformer. Breathing seems to offend those others.

So there’s you and me and ‘thoseothers’.  My feelings towards others are mixed.  I’m more wary. I was raised to be loving and trusting but the so called ‘authorities’ , well they killed God, didn’t they. Yet they remain pompous and superior. Government institutions collectively ‘Nazi’ or worse “Communist’ but conveniently forgetting they were the ones who ‘killed Jesus’.  The local Herod and the branch supervisor Pontius Pilate.  Haven’t admitted mistakes. 

The local clown apologizing for Canadians hasn’t yet apologized for ‘his part’ in the killing of Jesus.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

The idea of ‘linear time’ isn’t particularly quantum physics era. Even circular time doesn’t cut it. I live in a ‘stellate’ time world. Everything Emirates from now. Now is the moment of the ‘greatest story’.  The Jesus story is happening here and now.  

I like to play Jesus in the cast or Peter. But the fact is I’m Herod and I’m Pontius Pilate too.  I’m my own ‘original sin’.  The Golden Bough talks about the ultimate sacrifice. Instead of the female virgin, Jesus the male virgin, was offered up as a sacrifice to ensure the crops returned or the sun returned.  

“He did it!”  “It wasn’t me!”  “He did it”. We all can exclaim together. Sacrificial kings.  The king’s fault.  

Hedonism or Shedonims. The search for pleasure.  

I’d have joy. I’d have that transcendent experience of ‘God with us!” The knowledge of ‘its going to be okay’.   I know life isn’t ‘boring’ so there’s trials and challenges and testicles are ripped off by alien robots in one’s sleep or great viruses invade through the toe nails and turn the liver into sludge, just a little spice to make life less boring. I do appreciate your sense of humor.  

I’m screaming like the ‘Scream’ on most days going on to the next thing.  What’s the next surprise.  No money in the bank account.  Another tax notice. No carburetor. Someone stole the truck.  These are all things I’ve muddled through. I’m ‘traumatized’ in the new ‘lingo’ for all the life of ‘experience’ with folk dying in my hands and beside me and things simply not ‘going my way.’

It’s you and me and we seem to do a lot of you. But that’s my baby perspective. Whose in charge. Certainly not me.  Unless my unconscious is fucking Steven king.  I’m faced with another female surprise. She’s upset and I don’t know what her issue is. She’s drunk on emotion and superstition and I don’t know what I did wrong. I wasn’t paying attention and the truck hit the wall. I’m never paying attention ‘enough’.

Taht’s the exercise of meditation. Stop the dying on one’s watch. Keept the ship afloat . Do the next right thing.

So are you going to be there today, all today God. No breaks. I need you with me all the time. Not just union hours. Not just bureaucratic schedules. I need you like I needed my mom as an infant. I need you constantly always 24/7.  I want a formal notice of your place beside me, above me, below me, surrounding me. I want protection. I want assurety. I want some cause to believe that when I get out of this spiritual fetal position I can trust you or is it going to be another emotional roller coaster with those arrogant bullies throwing their weight around and demanding I suck their dicks and worship them and them threatening me and lying and cheating and generally being fuckwads.  I don’t want to do that game again. I ‘ve been your ‘victim’ in the Kafkaesque nightmare of your institutional jails and bullying.  I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to remember that anymore. I keep being pulled back into that maelstrom and I don’t want to be there.

Can’t we do the beach again. Can’t we do the camping more. Can’t we do the road trip. Can’t I be a thousand miles from head office and sailing on my sailboat or riding my motorcycle. Can’t Gilbert and I just get away.

I’d call your mean side Satan.

Can’t we get away from Satan. 

Can we get back to the Garden. You know naming things.  Without the girl and the snake and the Apple. I made that up didn’t I. I was the disobedient one. I was the curious one.  I wanted knowledge.  I’m the shadow and you are the light. I’m the one who turns his back on you.

I love you God. I fear and worship and love you.  I’m embracing the pain. I’m going forward. I’m wanting you.

Could you give me that million dollars now?

Also the plastic surgery.

I’d like a few months remake. 

Some youth. I’d like some youth and joy.

And meaning. I’m paying the rent and feeing myself and am a cog in the factory. I”m doing my best every day to give people what I was taught to do. At the end of the day people want me to ‘write a prescription’.  After all is said and done people really want and beg me to give them pills.  ‘I’m a human pill dispenser’.  They lie the ‘wisdom’ and ‘experiecne’ and ‘knowledge’ but it’s like the chat the guy gives me at the gun store. If I don’t get the ‘gun ‘ fuck the story and education about hunting. I want the gun. I’m the ‘pill dispensary store’.  If I was a surgeon I’d be the ‘knife’ so what’s with all the education and encouragement and saying that it’s going to be okay.

I see my self at work as the ‘complaints department of life’.  People are depressed with you God and I’m there explaining and encouraging and convincing people not to kill themselves when frankly I’ve thought about it a lot myself.  But who would take care of Gilbert? George the cat needs me. I’ve a plant that requires watering. It’s a thin edge. It’s what gets me through. But so many people won’t even take the entanglement of caring for a plant. They live lives of quiet desperation and want my ‘drugs’ to be ‘like cocaine’ or ‘like fentanyl’.  They want a safe version and I’m there trying to convince them to exercise, make relationships, join, participate, get out of their beds.  Yet I’m not keen to go to work. And everyone wants me to write a ‘chit’ saying they don’t need to work.

They actually threaten and extort letters from me saying that they don’t have to work or that they are ‘entitled’ to ‘special attention’ which they get because my ‘boss’ threatens me daily. I work for a toxic administration that threatens me to do what is wrong and to act like they do and they’re the most demonic creatures of disgusting realities.  

I’m supposed to be working on love and acceptance. That’s yesterday. I want to be alone again in the middle of the ocean for days at end with the dog heading to an unknown shore. But all I have to do is get dressed and go to work again.  

The unknown strangers.  These ‘sick’ people. I see them I meet with them.  Yet over my shoulder I have a cowardly tyrant who is the stupidest bully I’ve ever known.  The government today is 1930’s stupid.  They’re terrifying in their arrogance and grandiosity and utter ignorance.

I’m supposed to get dressed, shave and shower and go out there instead of killing myself. I am supposed to help others who themselves are facing such nonsense.  I’m supposed to rally them and say it’s okay and carry on.  There’s a fucking war against stupidity and the stupidity is top heavy.  I’m supposed to do this and I’ll get paid and I really would like everyone just ask could we bypass the work bit and give me ten million dollars so I can go shopping. I’d like to have 2 nannies for Gilbert and go shopping.  

I’m going to get dressed and shower.

God I’m going to do the ‘drill’.  I’m going to go about things but while I’m doing that could you focus on making it better. Hey Jude.  Make it better. 

I feel I’m doing my bit.  But where’s the reward. And don’t give me that crucifixion bit. I don’t want another crucifixion. I don’t want more pain. I don’t want more suffering. Even if it turns me to you I want the ‘easier softer way’.  I want to fall into your arms and be held . Let’s drop the father god bit and get the unconditional loving mother god bit.  I’m losing it. I want you God.  Really light show. White light. Firecrackers. Bring it on.  Levitation and telepathy and miracles.  Let’s have a few miracles today. Skip the humdrum and get right to the casting out of demons.  

Angels. Bring on the angels.

Good talk God. Let’s keep doing this. Thanks . Yes. Thanks for everything. you , this , them, especially Gilbert and George.  

My challenge today.

If I ride the motorcycle to work, very exciting, very dangerous, very unnerving, with Gilbert on the back, I can’t stop for a coffee.  When I drive the car I stop for a coffee. But the wind in the hair, Gilbert loving it and the fast lane.  

I could do that.

I may die.

Whenever I ride my motorcycle I think I may die.

I may be maimed.

The road is a war zone.

I’m putting my faith and trust in you.

In the best of all possible worlds with millions of dollars and time I’d pull this trailer east, visit family, get my sail boat and sail the Atlantic, pick up a crew along the way.  I don’t need a crew but it’s all physically more demanding. Pulling down sails in a storm.   I could just head south with the trailer pick up some guns.  Get into the gang zones, find a compound.  Learn more Spanish.  Get a horse. Ride into the sunset with Gilbert sitting on the saddle.  

I’d probably send for Laura. She and George make life better. I really ought to visit the new baby in the family. I’ve got to get to Aberdeen. I’ve been promising folk there for ever I’ll come visit. I’ve not visitted the Métis side of the family in years. I’d like to ride Appaloosa with my cousin. It’s been too long since I rode the range.  I’m just never doing the things I ought to do. Instead I wallow in the mundane,  never get anything done.

I’m full of self pity God. I’m just too easily distracted.

I’d rather get a sex change in Thailand , wear dresses, have a new name, new face, leave this ‘manliness’ behind. The women don’t want anything but mirrors. Manliness is out.  I’ve stopped a half dozen rapes, fought so many men, delivered babies, convinced thousands it’s okay and it’s ‘never enough’. Instead some ‘bureaurcrat’ in an office with a suit and a really bad attitude and power and money, he calls the shots and says we should be like him a kind of castrated chicken of a man, some kind of people kind.

I’d like to smoke a joint and sit back and play guitar and drink wine and whack off.  I’d like to be back on my homestead raising chickens and considering where to raise the pigs.

I’d like to be anything but me. 

At times.

Then sanity kicks back in and I’m rather thankful for the clean laundry. I’m happy with the coffee. I love the vehicles.  It’s a rush screaming down the highway.  

But I miss the sensuality and glamor of the dance floor or meeting the young girl in the woods and fucking all afternoon.  She became a missionary. I was her last ‘worldly event’. She thanked me for the send off. Multiple orgasms.  Two friends missionaries somewhere. I’d love to hook up and hear their story. Theres’ so many stories I’ve not followed up on. The friend jumping out of planes. The CSIS friend spying somewhere.

“I’d like to know that God but instead today I’ll remember to pay the bills. Hope to get a breather between the onslaught to demands and anxiety and desperation.

I have to shower and shave.  

I’d like a monks robe. Saddles.

Men’s clothing unappealing. I miss living in cut off shorts or a sarong and the deck of my boat, months of simplicity.  

Thank you God . It’s been a good life. Really a good adventure. A romp. A tryst.  I’m just not sure what’s next. Could you guide me. Lead me. Show me the way.  Please Lord be with me today.  

Thank you.