Saturday Morning in February

I am grateful. I’ve walked Gilbert along the Brunette River.  It’s not raining.  There’s even blue sky and some sunshine breaking through the clouds. I’ve stretched on the fences along the path.  The water is down from the days of the torrential rains. I’d never seen the river so high as last week. Laura says all the crocuses and snow drops and tulips are appearing in the West End. I’m in Burnaby and they were just appearing before another dump of snow.  Now the snow is gone. I’m thinking of riding my motorcycle. As kids we’d just go for rides on our bicycles.  It was fun to explore the parks.  The motorcycle rides in the city aren’t as pleasant.  I’d have to go out to the country to get that feeling of relaxation. Winding roads and little traffic.

President Trump was acquitted this week. It’s been years of the Democrats not getting beyond the election, constantly playing legal and bureaucratic games to restore themselves to power.  I see it as free world and capitalism versus communism.  There are no communists or people wanting sharia law in America in the Republican Party. Bernie, though is a card carrying communist and at least 4 democrats are in favour of the Muslim Brotherhood, the international terrorist group. Trudeau and his family are communists.  Fidel Castro and China. I struggle with the notion of ‘One World Order’.  The central government in theory sounds good but historically they’ve been like the Tower of Babel.  Corruption and control.  

Brexit has finally happened. Another good thing. The EU was increasingly satanic. 

The UN politically is lost with their muslim anti Israel block voting.  Such despicable lies. Now the whole history of WWII is being rewritten by the Sharia Communists.  

I feel old.  I only worried about war as a youth. Give Peace a Chance.  Love.  I stood in the middle.  War for defence but not for offence.  I had no difficulty with the British Empire. In an age of empires it was certainly superior to the Dutch, French and Turkish.

As Aryan Celts we could argue the same way the blacks do and demand compensation for the Arab, Black and Chinese and Slavic invasions.  Our people reigned from Indian, through Persia to Russia and Ireland. The Kurds are Indo European people. We were the blue eye blond aryans and the black haired light dark skinned aryans.  Invasions and conquering went on throughout history until this bizarre retrospective legal ‘compensation’ business and the idea of selected ‘terms of reference’.  We can talk about the Civil War but we can’t talk about Culloden or more importantly Vienna.  The Irish Potato famine. The Soviet massacre of the Ukraine. The Turkish genocide of the Armenians. The Pol Pot genocide of Cambodia. The Chinese invasion and barbaric destruction of the Buddhists of Tibet.

I’m weary of the selected narratives of the media.  That’s One World Order.  The media with it’s very limited ‘choice’ of stories’.  The funny Reuter displays of a hundred media personnel parrotting the same story in the same way.  Propaganda.  

Meanwhile I’ve continued to seek God.  Each day I begin with prayer and meditation asking to know God’s will and to have the power to carry it out. I allign my breathing and being with the OM, One Mind.  I am the bubble make me the sea.  I’m seeking the inner reality of Jung’s Collective Unconscious. I’m repeating the name of Jesus, what a beautiful name it is.  It means God within and Christ means God will come again. Ive taken to repeating the part in the St. Patrick Breastplate prayer , Christ in front of me, Christ behind me, Christ to the right of me, Christ to the left of me, Christ above me, Christ below me, Christ within me, Christ in the words and thoughts of everyone I meet today and Christ in my words and thoughts. I’ve asked daily to be a better God to be a Channel for Christ as in the St. Francis prayer, make me a channel for your peace.  I’ve tried to impart whatever knowledge and care I can to comfort and help those people who come to me. I feel oddly like I’m on the bench waiting for God to play me. I’m past the age of retirement but have no desire to do anything else immediately. I love the people I work with. They really are stirling  characters and overall I feel like I am contributing. It’s important work not like I’ve done in the past. At times in my career I’ve felt very strongly drawn and driven but now I’m kind of coasting.  The College of Physicians and Surgeons Assistant Registrar said ,”It’s just a job”.  I was told not to be a doctor but to act like a doctor. I’m encouraged to be a ‘drug pusher for the multinationals’.  I used to believe my role as physician and psychiatrist was to help people be the best they could be but mostly people just want me to sign their papers so they can get money or get out of work. Fewer and fewer want me to treat even their symptons .There’s so much secondary gain and the whole industry has shifted sideways. Doctors are no longer professionals in the Osler sense but defined as ‘health care workers.”  One of the beurocrats hired by the Minister of Health told me medicine was a ‘consumer product and that I was just there to assist in their consumption. Another told me it’s all ‘just entertainment’ and that I should be entertaining.  I struggle with paying taxes because billions of Canada’s money is now going to promote abortion and euthanasia.  I preferred when we just killed as Canadians in the old politically incorrect ways of war.  This politically correct killing of the helpless and defenceless is disheartening.

I have days when I’m so overwhelmed with doubt i just want to die.

The masculine in me fought the killing.  I look back on a life of fighting the corruption and unethical and immoral abuses mostly of government.  Bad men and bad women in government. The hijacking of the good apparatusof law and order by communists and killers. Now we have Sharia and 15th century Muslim military religion coupling with western legal institutions. I see invasion and parasitolgy. There seems no symmetry.  Such aggressive threatening jihadism and arrogance. ISIS is pure.  But that’s all just the propaganda.
 On an individual basis I’m delighted with my Persian Zorastrians friends and Muslims who are akin to the Chstmas and Easter Christians. I’ve all these moderate friends and colleagues and we huddle in the midst of raving lunatics all promoted and protected by government apparently intent on reviving either the Brown Shirts or the Bolsheviks or the Jihadists.

I think of sex changes as a way to get out of the front lines. I’d like to sit by a campfire and worry about marshmallows. I’d rather be raped again than be shot at again or to face the Burocratic Borg of the Corrupt Establishment with their unholy alliances and authoritarian stupidity. I think without testosterone I’d not frighten these castrated government leaders in medicine.
 I think in a skirt I’d not be attacked.  Sadly transgenders are most attacked. The world is simply not a safe place. Better to trust in Jesus.
I like skirts. I’ve just ordered another kilt. It’s healthy not to have your balls bound in tight pants.  I liked the David Bowie big baggy pants I used to wear.  I should get back to dance. When I was in the world of dance I was far from the life and death of fentanyl and AIDS. Now there’s a new virus.  I am of an age where in so many societies and throughout the ages I was considered a survivor and wise but here today I’m mocked with ‘shut up, boomer’.  Women constantly  tell me that since I haven’t a womb I should shut up. All the diversity cult tell me to die. I ate Chinese take out last night and thought of my brother. We sat and ate and talked in Yan’s.

I dream of getting on my boat and heading out to sea. The world was no better with me gone for 25 days alone at sea.  I’d gladly be back on my boat in the ocean breezes following the tropical winds.  But it’s all hard work. What I really like doing is lying on the couch with my nearby refridgerator and the Ethiopian coffee and the netflix tv and this ipad and keyboard. T camper is calling to me.  Thank you God and Brother Lawrence for this time and place, Thank you for every time you help me get my head in the same room as my ass. Be here now. Hallelujah.

I ask God what I am to do. Ill muddle along. There’s no burning bush.  Gilbert’s licking his privates. Laura is coming later. I got us Carmen Tickets. Tomorrow we’ll go to church. I don’t know they’ll have an answer. I love that the kids are having children and raising little humans.  I love the living.