Tues, Covid, Summer, Gilbert

Yesterday was rudely hot. I wilted inside working. Gilbert with his heart disease found breathing toughest.  At the end of the day I hopped on the Harley to get the mail. I picked up a fan for my office.  London Drugs only had USB desk fans.  Canadian Tire had a wall of fans.  I have air conditioning but if I have it on high it flips the breakers.  Low it helps.

I love the heat.  Outside it was glorious to stand soaking in the sun. The problem is working. Sunshine is good for improving the immune response to Covid.  Vitamin D3. Love it. I could lie on my lawn chair all day and looking. I am forward to the weekend to do just that.  I did a little last weekend. With the fan I hope to survive another day of work. I Remember working in the tropics, stifling. All one needed was a breeze. Then it was heaven.

There are moments when I just feel good for no reason. It’s warm. I’ve food and water and shelter. I’ve vehicles. It’s summer in the city. I’ve a long list of positive memories which flow through me. Outside with friends as kids, playing in the sun, baseball, hide and seek, tag. All those good time memories in the sunshine. Later it’s swimming in lakes,then fishing, and later sailing in the tropics.  

Now I’m here in the middle of this glorious season of warmth and cheer. I’m sitting during the day in a rather dark room in front of video screens and talking on cell phones questioning if this is wise.  I work.  I get paid. The evil government takes the money and abuses my trust and faith.  Criminals have coopted Canada. Billions of dollars have gone missing. Terrorists and money laundering are all the rage.  

Meanwhile I’m working.  Quieting the fear.  Each day at least once ,sometimes more, I feel what I’m doing is really important. Mostly I’m keeping the system rolling, greasing the wheels, oiling the cogs. So many bits of paper needed in the paper mill. I have to sign my name to it.  It seems frivolous at times but then there’s that one when it’s critical.

 I go through the motions.  Then a secret is disclosed. The knots unravel, the abscess is broken. The healing comes in.  It’s occasionally a deluge of pus, like yesterday.  I said the right thing. The knife made the cross incision in abscess so long hidden protected. The truth was out. The healing began.  So many years of pain and shame.  I was glad to be there and thought I’d not have said what I said thirty years ago. Yet somehow what I said was necessary. Truth and timing. Itworked perfectly. Mostly it’s baby steps.  Cleaning away debris.  Weeding.  I putter and muddle along , mostly taking for granted what is now second nature.

I remembered when all I wanted was to be a good doctor. I remembered when medicine was my first love. I remembered my youth. I’m often reflecting on that time now when I know and there’s not the daily eureka and the mystery and the uncertainty.  Now I’d like a SPECT scan and Functional MRI.  I’m tired of third world medicine in a first world country seeing all the parasites and lies.  But it has its feeling good days.  I”m an odd bit.  Near the end rather than the beginning of a career. Wondering if this is what I should still be doing.  I dream of driving a camper across the country for three months.  Like the sailing escape. Or the travelling.  What is it I would learn then.  Do I need to go back to university and study something new. I’ve achieved most of my major goals. 

I’m accomplished. Doing what I do now is second nature.  I’m more than good enough. I’m a thousands times better than the bureaucrats by any measure. They don’t even know it.  Their arrogance and ignorance are still mind boggling.  Herding cats. Now I’m just doing as they say.  I’m not going to fight the stupidity any more.  I’m worn out from that.  It’s what sucks my own energy, living in fear of government thugs with suits and fake smiles.  And lies. Low brow barbarians.  I’m tired of the lies and more lies. The threat of communist invasion wears on me. More stupid Herods, Marx and Nero’s.

I have amazing dreams these days.  I dreamed of being at Oxford with a friend from Cambridge and we’d developed a new glue that held universities together. It was just a bit of the roofing we were saving, a place where we’d brought the roof together and the experiment had worked. It remained now to heal all the holes where the rain had gone through.  We were smiling, shaking hands, thankful for our success.  

Gilbert woke me through the night, his heart worsening. He’s resting now. In the heat he had such a hard time yesterday getting his breath. I rubbed his chest asking God as I do to heal him, thy will be done. I don’t know if he would best die faster or revive. There was a time when laying on hands I’d heal. But today I don’t know. Would it be better. What am I to learn from his illness. I held him this morning till he calmed and his breathing restored.  He’s sleeping now. 

I know I’ve been blessed with healing. A Gift. My mother was that way with plants. I’ve almost willed people back to life in youth when I had faith to move mountains. Now I’m struggling with the gargantuan stupidity of politicians and money men and greed.  The bullies are so stifling.  Now it’s the communists.  Always the shallow and superficial , hardened criminals , the image ever of the Buddhists in prayer and the Communist Chinese killing them en mass with their machine guns. 

 The Quakers and Mennonites with their pacifiscism escaped to Canada. Kindly musical intelligent people. I loved their outlook on life. Acceptance.  Now I don’t know. I don’t know where to escape. I do the next right thing. I don’t drink. I don’t drug. I don’t take many unnecessary risks. Riding a motorcycle is insane but eating can cause death. My friend looks at the shelf dates. 

I see everything as rituals and what we do to meet the fear.  Existential fear.  Fear of not breathing. Fear of death.  Denial and humor.  I call on God always, everywhere. I pray. I ask for protection. I asked that God help Gilbert. I know he healed the fear but I don’t know that Gilbert will live much longer.  Thy will, not my will, be done.

Covid continues.  More and more people are taking it in stride. At the Post Office I remember the early days, the fear, the empty mall.  Now there are masked folk going about their day. On Facebook there’s anger and fear.  I see the Communist Chinese hand in the BLM.  It was the same in the 60’s and 70’s. Putin talked of his work in the peace movement , encouraging it for the sake of USSR war machine. George Soros is a traitor, destroyer.  Trudeau’s friend. You know a man by his associates. He was on Epstein’s island with Clinton.

It’s all about my pay grade. Freedom.  I am blessed with relative freedom.  I’ve had a wonderful life but asked about relationships on the weekend thought first about God. We play hide and seek always. At least I do.  I see God in the eyes of family and friends.  Now God is in my dog . I’m asking about Jesus and Lazarus. But  he’s an old dog. I’m an old dog.

 Life is very good but death holds no fear. I believe so much in the other side that I believe I’m there in my dreams. I see this other world so clearly, my boat, my mother, the sea and peninsula, the friends. It’s Greek like, Mediterranean.  I loved Robin Williams in what dreams may come.. My idea of heaven.  

There is no hell except for those who don’t want heaven.  The law of attraction.  The godless who know only lust and believe it love. 

Now I’m waiting. I really do feel I’m sort of on the bench. There’s probably another 30 good years to go for me. Maybe one or two for Gilbert.  We’re in this together.  Covid. It’s got a year maybe. But the war with China, that’s something different. I don’t want communism.  The bureaucrats I’ve know with their petty vendettas and stupidity have been a view of such a world where the loyal swagger and greed is all that matters. I remember the utter wastes of time and resources and humans I experienced working in government services.   The lowest common denominator.  

Now I don’t know.  I really don’t know. I just live day to day in this sitting in the box watching the game waiting to be called in for a part. I have these moments when I’m on the ice then I’m not.  I’m certainly no star. Just a player in a game. The Kazoo in the symphony of life. But it’s good.

I’d like to be on a beach today. I’d like to be swimming. But as I’ve done for 50 years I’ll go to work and do my part and feel self pity about all the slackards starting with our PM.

Oh well, one day I’ll ask St. Peter what that was all about. Then I’ll know the answer. I’d like that.  Heaven is a place where I learn the answers to all the questions I’ve had that I never knew the answer to.  In the meantime I’ll hoe a new roe, chop wood and carry water and be of service.  I hope. I pray.