Day getting longer

I don’t feel it yet. I have it on faith. The days are getting longer. What I see and feel is snow and cold. It’s like being back in Winnipeg.

On a positive note, the Ethiopian coffee is superb.

I’m getting by.  It’s a marathon. No quick fix here. I’ve been resting. Eating. Sleeping.  Reading. I’ve got history books and art studies but right now for days I’ ve been glued to Eric Warren’s Infinity’s End series. I’m on book 7.

The Louvre art book arrived. 

I’m prepared for Harrison Hotspring.  Thursday Laura arrives and we drive out. I’ll take the truck as the roads are so uncertain with the snow and after the floods.

I love breathing in the fresh air when I take the dog for a walk first thing in the morning. The air is so crisp. I feel breathing is a meditation then. I’m thanking God in prayer. My mind is always praying away the negative.  I’ve a short leash on my thoughts so they don’t pull me back and down.

The direction is forward and upward.  I’m lifted on eagle’s wings.

My cupoards and refrigerator are full of food. I’m stocked for weeks.  There is no immediate threat.  I’m safe.

If I take the leash off my mind I run raving in circles and fall into a fetal position lump.  I long to drift. I miss the sated summer vacations after youthful sex in the afternoon before the mosquitoes come. I’m afraid I’m not laying down any fine memories now. More of the same.  I’ve the crazy room mate pup. I’ve been raising him. This time is not for naught. I could have written the novel.  

I’m resting on my laurels a bit

Thinking about retirement. This next phase.  

Yesterday I bought an air fryer when I went to send mail. I’ve made fries and fish sticks. I’ll try chicken breast soon.  

I’m planning on a shower. I have work this afternoon and a full day tomorrow.  

More walking the dog.  Now I’ll lie down again and read more Eric Warren.  

  

Post Boxing Day

I still can’t say I’ve had a spiritual Christmas experience. I’ve had some joy taking deep breaths walking the dog in the winter wonderland of snow and arctic inflow. I’ve enjoyed eating. I’ve been reading a lot.  

It was good to connect with family. I sent lots of gifts to kids and it was a joy to hear and see that they actually were appreciated and fit.  Madigan loved the toys that Laura and I got him.  He was particularly fond of the Harley Davidson rope octopus. 

I’ve arrived here soul tired from work and appreciative of the time off. I’m getting by with the higher costs of the season, preparing for a holiday with no income coming in. I’m trying to get the costs done upfront and paying those off. So far I have the plane tickets. This week Laura and I go to the Harrison Hotsprings.  I’ve been limited by the chronic pain of my back or my attention to the psychosomatic phenomena, this week’s reservoir of self pity.

I really enjoyed a couple of hikes with Madigan and taking pictures with the new iphone13 camera.  I really do like gadgets. I’m enjoying the series 7 watch. I especially liked that I could send my old watch and phone to Graeme to fix up for his mother whose no more techie than Laura.  Other Christmas Apple has entertained me. I especially loved receiving the card of Andrew Tanya, Finn and Elliott (FATE) with them all in their matching white Christmas pajamas.  

The arctic has hit Vancouver and I even had to make an extra Propane run this morning.  

I do like photography.  I’ve been doing it along time since my high school darkroom days.

I’m still struggling with aging and ‘being somebody’.  I once thought I wanted to ‘be somebody’, to make a mark and somehow it became increasingly surviving with the depth of evil, the true banality of evil, in the political correctness and woke aparatchiks of beurocracy.  I have worked in the most dangerous and most difficult with the most marginized and survived. The question is when to retire.  I am working now. I’m really waiting for Laura at times.  I’m ready to travel. I’m all set to journey south. I look forward to another year of camping. I don’t know about another year worried about heat and propane,. I saw that Peter headed south. He and his partner along with Bella and Luka are in Palm Springs for the rest of the winter.

I was really down before getting the Moderna booster. It was scared. I felt like patients going for another ECT.  Fortunately no negative side effects.  

Omnicron and isolation.  I didn’t go to church or meetings but I went to Boxing Day to get a cover for my iPhone 13,  It was supposed to arrive last month but showed up on the doorstep Christmas Eve. I’m thankful as I use my phone so much in work and can now program the hearing more.  It’s such a trial with accents and connections.  Still I can work from home and I like that.  

Maligan is growing older and is maturing. I worried about leaving him when I went to Scotland.  I am looking forward to Aberdeen as a passage of sorts. The family connection.  I’ve felt I was left with doing things my brother would want me too.  I feel this will give closure of some kind.  

The China Sea heats up.  Communist China are eyeing Taiwan like Nazi Germany eyed Austria.  Putin is a wild card.  The leaders here are painful.  I don’t know.  

It’s the collective unconscious. What we think is what is.  I’m wanting my joyful thoughts.  With all the sleeping I’ve done these last few days I’m relaxing.  I’ve a couple more days of work then 4 days of hot springs and reading. I am so looking forward to the hot springs. Here our hot tub which had been such a resource has been fraught with barriers due to covid. And the cold. I don’t want to sign in and have the area opened when I’m in a bathing suit.  So many stresses of covid and the hope that come spring we’ll be further along.  

I am waiting to hear on my camper . If I wasn’t working I ‘d get a class 1 driving license. Maybe yet.  

I am thankful. Though some days I’ve not meditated or exercised but rather slept in and read.  I’ve eaten well sharing with Madigan who is now off dog food except his favorite which are hard to get. I’ve many challenges to surmount for Scotland. 

Thank you Jesus.  I’m feeling better. Thank you.

Christmas Eve and Booster

It’s Christmas Eve. I’ve enjoyed texting with my nephew Graeme.  Laura is sick with an URI suspected Omnicron, home isolating, stuffed up. I’ve a booster apt in an hour. There’s a Christmas Eve service at the church .  I balance contact with others and desire to participate in the celebration of birth of Jesus. I suspect I may continue to isolate. The benefit of the booster will be greatest next week.  Christmas Eve and Christmas Day alone at home.

I talked with some patients today.  I’m ‘taking care of business’. The work goes on and Madison insists on his 4 walks a day, sometimes 3 but if I don’t do them he may pee in the house.  He’s a little guy.  He’s pooped today.  I think he piddled in the bathroom this morning because I slept in. I have a regular routine most days and when I am out his bladder or patience is challenged.  I think it’s attitude.  

Jesus , God, Lord I pray. I bow to you. Thy will be done.  Be with me now.  Holy Spirit come. Open my heart and mind to the miracle.  Help me feel thee, see thee, know thee.

Thank you Jesus. Thank you Creator.  

 

Jesus Christ

Jesus Christ - God within, God will come again.

Quantum physics, modern science, Shroedinger, Heisenberg,Bohr. They all point to the mind body nature of reality. Materialism and spiritualism. Einstein E=MC2. Matter and light. Slow and fast energy. Digital.0 and 1. Intervals. 

St. John ‘In the beginning was the word”. The music of the spheres. Interconnectedness. Hide and seek. Treasure hunts. Love. All we need is love. Jesus loves me. God loves me. Yahweh. I am that is who I am. A relationship between God and people. The chosen people. The children of god. I am a child of God, a brother of Jesus. A son of God. 

Yea though I walk through the valley in the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. Thou art with me. The Cloud of unknowing. 

The fog of war. All is fair in love and war. Love is war. There is not but God. “If the red slayer thinks he slays or the slain thins he is slain, they know not well the ways I keep and turn and toss again.”

I love you. The glue. The dance of life and death. Money. Power. Freedom. Discipline. Duty. Words written on washroom walls and centataphs. Granite. Emeralds, jewels. The sweet fragrance of her scent. Charms and mystery. Jesus. Christ. Blood.Earth. 

A lonely hallelujah.

A child is born.

Counting the minutes to the coming of the Sun

The darkest days.  We used to sacrifice virgins to ensure the return of the sun.  Virgins no longer admit to this.  Who would want to be sacrificed when you can wear dark eye make up red lipstick, slutty clothes and conjure adult poses.  It’s just survivalism.

I’m sun deficient. I’ve my SAD Lite on. Northern Technologies is the Mercedes of lights but Verilux Happy Light is now a contender. What once cost thousand dollars now is less than a $100.  I’m chewing Gummy Vitamin D’s.  

This morning I slept in waiting for a flicker of light. I am so weary of walking the dog in the dark. I slept in a half hour and was thankful that there was at least morning gloom. Grey light appearing beneath the hulking clouds.  

Madigan is always happy.  Loves jumping up and down, on me and on the bed when I begin to crawl from bed.  He squirms with glee when I put on his leash, I’m going through an automatic program, a good habit of efficient dressing, taking keys and flashlight and garbage.

I tell myself to breath as I walk down the icy road.  Breathe!  Breathe!.  The deep droughts of cool fresh sweet air are worth the wakening. Thank you God for deep breaths.  The woods are morning spooky.  I worry a little about hungry predators using these last moments to grab a snack.  I’ve a flashlight and a pen knife.  Sometimes Madigan balks at going on and I turn about not wanting to meet in the near dark what he smells,  He likes to go home, He owns me and the home,

I am using twice the propane to heat as I was last month. With inflation and the punishment of Canadians by our evil traitor thief PM. I’m spending $500 a month or more on heat. I understand my father complaining about doors being left open in winter.  He was working in the night of morning each day going out in the dark and coming home.  Today the costs are so much more exorbitant.  I’m getting by trying to save for a trip to Grandad’s birth place.  I see refugees and immigrants flying back and forth to home and know they’re managing their money more wisely in some ways.  The draw to the past is greater perhaps. When I was younger I flew to Mexico,   Now I want to revisit history , go to museum and cathedrals , places of worship, rather than beaches.

I’m blessed.  The air is so clean.  The smoke toxic air was harsh.  Now I’m thankful for the air. Inside I’m warm.  I am paying the bills,  I”m blessed and grateful. My fears are for the future.  Jesus said Do Not Be Afraid.  All I have is this day.  Carpe Diem!!!

Just for today.

Madigan is chewing on his bone,

I’ve listened to Hale speak of the threat of King Xi Jin Ping and China, the new Nazi/Socialist with their Chinese Auschwitz.  Genocide of the Uyghurs after Genocide of the Tibetans and daily persecutions of Christians.  

I’m thankful for the running hot water. I’ll shower soon.  It’s another blessing. Clean clothes. Then work from home.  A lonely pursuit with discipline.

But my mind is unravelling. I’ve just 2 days till I rest.  My mind is burnt out. I’ve having less pain today. The Barometric pressure has switched. I slept 7 hours.  There is hope.  I’m running on routine. I have little if no reserve.  I sputter like an empty motorcycle when asked to do more.  It takes me hours more to do a days work. So many demands. So little downstream resources.  

I’m blessed to have Madigan. He’s good company.  The puppy stupidity is going but some of the enthusiasm and innoscnce as well.  I look forward to the wise adult dog more useful than work.  He’s a good boy.  I pray to be a better self.  I’m marginal.  I work with some psychopaths , narcissists, malingerers and down right soul suckers.  The vast majority are not But I’m afraid when I’m so weak and vulnerable of these beasts who attack weakness.  In the last day before vacation or weekends they love to attack with threats and impossible demands.  I’ve had so many vacations begun with a psychopaths angry always but choosing that day to attack me because they felt my weakness.  I like all the others. I enjoy all the others. I enjoy even the psychopaths when I am well and can remain firm and help them learn civilized coping mechanisms. It’s hard today with war on the horizon and government marauders.  The despair and depression are palpable .  There’s no ‘wrong thinking’.  The reality is negative. As Freud said , sometimes the paranoids are right. I often don’t know what to say.  Listening.  Day in day out they vent and the worst are those who left the fight years ago and now are cornered in their once safe place.  

I don’t know.

I muddle along.

I’m ready for a break. More than ready.  Everyone is burnt out. I am too. 

I like silences.  

I enjoyed looking at the river this morning,  Right now I enjoy the sound of my dog chewing on his bone,

Next step shower,  

Thank you for this day, Help me today and tomorrow,

Christmas,  I can’t recall a time I liked the Christmas week. So much pressure and demands and I’ve no ‘give’, I’m stretched and feel near breaking. I do what I can, I’m better at that today.  I’ve been without any of the promised resources for a decade. All the promises of the past have been reneged on.  All we have are punishing authorities. Vultures waiting to shoot us in the back if we falter while they mouth platitudes and stay as far a way from sick patients as they possibly can. Cowards.

I don’t what to do next.  I can do this.  It’s just I don’t have the stamina and long for rest reprieve from the constant threat.  

I read Kierkegaard today.  I thought of Waiting for Godoy.

Thank you Jesus for the breath of life,

Mandarins and Oboz Hiking Boots

I had a surprisingly busy day yesterday when I thought I was going to be a dud.  I did a long walk with Madigan. Then I took my electric folding bicycle to the storage locker, gave away my coffee cooling appliance anf picked up 8 bags of unroasted Sidama and Yergicheff Ethiopian coffee beans.  I’m roasting beans now.  I filled the gas tank in the mini and picked up White spot fish and chips and a burger for Madigan. In the evening I watched Mortal Engines and loved it.  

I was dressed au femme all day but with sweats and sweater. I miss wearing red liptstick on those days. I have red nail polish so guess that sends some kind of above and beyond the Christmas message. I masturbated with sex toys feeling much like I do after I make myself a meal. I am self sufficient.  A bit of a closet queen. A man without a woman is not a man and the testosterone is plummeting all across Canada. Erectile failure and potions to flog a dead horse.  I read a Futa novel and watched a tranny erotica thinking how much programming we all received as children and youth. The Hollywood 60’s era. Women as sex objects, men active, women passive, fecundity and the pressure to raise a family, more children, more armies, more workers. 

But I’m old. The Ethical Slut is more my speed.  Sex was first for pleasure and then for reproduction. Now that I’m old it’s just pleasure and I enjoy those who are sexually active. it’s so apparent seeing the trudging old folk who have held onto gluttony or  avariée or one of the other sins but eschewed lust.  I don’t particularly lust. I don’t at all experience life as i did as a young man.   In my teens and 20’s I really was a hound dog, completely enthralled and always ready and willing with the most exciting and adventurous sexual partners. Young women with pheromones and brilliant and charmed.  I lived to fuck. I was happiest and most joyful in intercourse. I licked and rode and danced. Life was physical.  I longed for babies as a young doctor when the disappointments began and marriages failed.  

Marijuana then played a part in my life and an older professor taking advantage of a young resident .  My life changed.  I enjoyed the experience but not the context. To be pleasured by someone. I’d always felt intensely reciprocal but now I was the ‘sex object’.  Today I’d like to be used.  I’m not much of a user.  I like to share and participate.  When I was young I could throw a woman down and ravage her as per her desire knowing she liked being ‘taken’.  Today I’m a giver and a lover and if anything I’d like being taken because it’s lazy.  The whole blow job craze is about energy.  I loved the smell and taste of women and lived between their thighs before whiplashes but a strain on my neck limiting the enjoyment.  The young man could live there for an hour but the old man needs to move after 10 minutes. Sexual positions defined by traumatic arthritis.

I love to hug today.  Alone I hug the dog.  No fear of beastiality.  I’m not even attracted to young girls or boys or anyone I don’t know.  I am titillated by the women I know who have enjoyed being erotica artists.  Erotica is such a nice word compared to porn.  The ‘class’ distincition has gone since the whore Justin Trudeau became PM.  We now watch Elizabeth and Victoria and know that Epstein Island catered to the rich. Only the poor and peasants are limited to beans and bread and missionary position. Though today the number of people who are trying variations upon variations of polyamory, transsexualism

The spirituality of coming out was a book I read written by a gay priest. I’m consumed by fear and shame. I loved Velvet Rage. I was raised a sexual stoic, I believe I married one of my wife in an attempt to purify the glorious sin of sex with these incredible tarts and sluts I loved as sisters of mercy.  So much is in the name.  Wife .  Whore.  I loved my wives who were pure and angelic in the living room while naughty as sin in the bedroom., The rule was monogamy but then politics entered the bedroom. « I’m not interested and the gourmet cook serves night after night of beans,’

I’m meat and potatoes. Even transgendered routines enter into the picture and provide comfort. Once I lit candles and wrote poems and undressed her slowly in the comfort of home but then we had date nights and vacations where I wanted the playbook to be thrown out especially after seeing these incredible creatures in bikinis and topless or naked in the day on exotic beaches.  Sex was an extraordinary celebration. Intercourse and climax gave meaning and purpose to life. These we’re the cherry on the cake.  

Today the old ladies are disinterested and only a small percentage don’t ‘let themselves go’ while men continue as a significantly superior group lusting till death.

I’ve listened to ten thousand men and women talk of their lives and their sex lives , good or bad.

The Christian’s were good for family but I realized when a truly brilliant gorgeous talented accomplished sex 40 yo woman said « they’re always trying to marry me off and its not like I’m going to have children and a fanily’.

The main stream church

Family

Nun or monk

The GLBT by contrast have alternatives for the older single, post divorce crowd.  

Men can’t marry bccause the evil predatory marriage chasing equivalent of the ambulance chasing lawyers prey on the married folk.  Single people by contrast can date or be friends or use prostitues or have any number of relationships with whoever. I’ve been surprised at the sex lives of the lawyers I ‘ve known along with the college professors and athletes .  

What is the reward of monogamy and death do us part.

Im very thankful for the sexual adventure I’ve known.  Yes it’s been scared and dangerous and hurtful and difficult but never really boring. It’s like there’s no ‘bland’ in my life. A beaurocrat who lives a life of quiet desperation under the thumb of his dominatrix wife tried to ‘accuse’ me of being ‘manic depressive’.  His lust was avariée and he was a closet psychopath, narcissist and weak, a coward who would have died at Nuremberg and will no doubt no karma in the next life. I am not ‘mentally ill’ except in the ‘insane’ sense that I developed an addiction to smoking young and gave up drinking along with smoking.  I also stopped going with men and women who had drug and alcohol addictions.  

Sex addiction is an interesting consideration .

The assumption of normalcy is at odds.

Health is an issue.  I’ve avoided countless offers of sex and relationship because I was afraid. I was afraid of HIV and today I’m afraid of Covid.  There’s obviously herpes and syphilis and identity theft and robbery.  Just being known to the underworld sexual addiction sorts is a danger.  So I’ve known that the monogamous with family is the first choice. I aimed for that . It’s still what I recommend. The Honda Civic of reliable safe and really sexy adventurous life

The question is whether to monk or nun can have a greater joy than the person who has sex in old age,.

I suspect that now my back hurts and I don’t like to lift women up against the wall and pound them while I hold them laughing in the kitchen I’m like most older men and women limited by physical wear and tear. When I was an athlete and a dancer all I did was have sex on any occasion, every day, many times a day, the dancers and the athletes  fuck, The sedentary have dirty minds and isolate and masturbate while the military when put together with sexually alive fuck.  I met a woman who was part of the thousands of girls she told me who head to the ports when the warships come.  ‘Those boys can fuck, » the girls have always said of the military.  Feast and famine.

The fat old professor or judge is the last thing a girl wants as a sexual partner. The choice is gluttony sloth or sex.  I’ve been personally into gluttony and sloth but like the sedentary think of sex.

The young do it while the old think about it and talk about it And write about it.  I wrote about it.  

I taught sexuality at the university.

I have known so many perverts in government.  Our Prime Minister is an example of the trend.

What was good for an individual in relationship with God or a community in relationship with God.

There is play, and love making.  There is sex and lust and fun.  The whole idea of sex is curiosity and adventure or just a warm blanket and a hiding place. The brave can swing from chandeliers but the cowards huddle in the cave.  Sex for procreation and family centred marriage is sanctified by the church.

But I still savour the ships in the night. Those glorious explosions of passion that occur between individuals .  But was this the alcohol.  Or youth.  

Today I would rather pilot a space ship but I’ve only this body.

I wore so many uniforms when I was younger

- poet, intellectual, athlete, dancer, actor, writer, doctor, wilderness doctor, skier, white water canoeist, wilderness expert, hiker, fisherman, bird hunter, big game hunter, photographer, psychiatrist, offshore blue water sailor, long range rifleman, four wheel driver, long distance cyclist, motorcyclists, camper, world traveller, flying physician, university professor, clinician, author, monk, theological student, addictionologist, lover, fighter, meditator, runner, and dog owner, homesteader, so many uniforms and roles. Now 

I’m exploring gender. My friend says old ladies and old men coalesce. The girls testosterone rises and the mens lowers.  Estrogen in old men.  

I have been fascinated by the experiences of cross dressing.

It exposes all the lies of the courts and parliament. The dirty old men and the favouritism. The whole I am equal to a man feminist who then cries like a little girl every time she loses and brings the men around her to fall on the man.  False accusations galore because the elite bullies and predators abuse women without regret.  Only the middle classes and lower classes know true romance.  The elite lover power. Narcissism prevails,

But what of the family.  What of God.

If I have the false god of addiction and look in the materialism and pleasure of this world do I forgo the joy of meditation and prayer.  If I am celibate will I know God more. I was interested in the celebrate monks and priests who still loved avarice and gluttony. The fat popes and the slothful ,

I know that sacrifice is giving up that which one most loves ,That was the great Leonard Cohen song I sang young of the Biblival story of Abraham and Isaac.  It’s a story of ‘obedience’ and also a story of giving up that which is most desired or bonded or addicted,

My friend seeing with desire the success I knew when I gave up alcohol asked if he would have the same all round success in life and thought and feeling and I told him , no. I love Cabernet and Pinot Noir. I was a wino, a true connoisseur.  I told him I’d only seen his eyes light up with money and that if he wanted God he would have to be like the rich man who Jesus said to give up his wealth. My friend who was a Christian with desire of ministry was instantly silently enraged.  

Those who suck at sex are happy to judge those who celebrate and enjoy sex while clinging to their envy, avariée and sloth and gluttony.

I am enjoying life now and wonder why rush to know heaven if I’m going to be there tomorrow. In old age I don’t fear I will get to heaven and I don’t worry about coming back as a cockroach or a politician like Justin Trudeau.  God even loves the devil.  AS Milton said the Devil turned his back on God. God never turns his back on us.   I just don’t know how much excitement and adventure I want at my age.  

I might fantasize being a temple slut, a priestess for love and sex and then I’d rather watch tv or read a book. 

I learned that wearing high heals is all about sex,  It’s like geisha girls feet. The women want to look and be attractive and have long nails to show like the empress they want to be cared for and do no work They make themselves vulnerable.  Very few girls carry guns or learn martial arts or wear cloaks when they go out at night. The like the slut walk because maked they have power when young Old ladies agree with old men when they are old. The patriarch Muslim religion steals the power of women in the robing them out of the home. The old wedding ring is a total body chastity belt in the hijab and robes. The Hindu girl is thoroughly mummified and sex takes time.  The island girl or the sarong parts and closes and the tropics are now immodest The birth control pill was a monumental event like the male and female condoms and penicillin and Prep.  

Sex is all around us.  

The future of Christianity will have to address the single and the childless.  Jesus Christ was single and childless. He was not the Roman Catholic state church but killed by the religion of the day. He was not the family man.  He was not the monk either, not like John the Baptist. He didn’t talk of sex.  We don’t know if St. Peter was a wanker.  All the Jewish men I have met have been extremely sexual and the women have been laid back whereas Christians have this heavy dose of sexual stoicism . The Hindus are a family religion The Buddhists don’t like desire. The Muslim women compete and are very sexual if it appeals to their men, But most religions revolve around the production of militaries.

What about loving God.  Today is it better to masturbate or make love or alone meditate.

If I dress as a woman or a man or wear a different uniform what does it mean. When I acted I became the costume and the role,  Should we insiste that men like Justin Trudeau and those in power like him wear diapers rather than ‘power suits’. The administrative doctors dress like lawyers and look down on clinicians wearing white jackets.

I miss my white jacket.

I’ve dressed mostly like a college prof.  Slacks and shirt and jacket. I liked the extra pockets.  Fat today I like sweats.  Maybe if I got my sweats with my jackets I’d find a confortable old wear but I like the sexy feel of lace and silk. I have men’s underwear made with the sexy feels that women monopolized.  

I like skirts.  I liked kilts but found skirts less heavy. I like the Roman soldier wear.  

There’s something about ease of access and nudity. 

I loved the hotsprings I visitted in the wilderness with lusty women of my youth.

Oh well.  My coffee beans have roasted. Time for another brew. Enough dirty talk.  I’d go to one of the art galleries today dressed au femme or au drab.  Au femme I’m left alone an odd eccentric , a zebra in the Arctic, whereas au drab I have women and men looking at me and wanting me, inviting me to join their dance of conversation and foreplay and sex. Of course they just want to be friends but where does that lead. I have friends and the causual conversations I have au femme are less expectant Women chat and yet when they chat with men there’s almost certainly an agenda,  Men chat with old men in art galleries with or without an agenda, The risk of agenda is least au femme. My cross dressing friend Bob hit it on the head if you want to be left alone go au femme.  Humans like dogs avoid the unusual.  

I loved meeting the gorgeous young French photographer who talked an hour with me about art and life and her boyfriend and girlfriend and how much she enjoyed youth. One of the finest conversations I’ve had. It all began with her liking my dress.  With painted red nails for Christmas women are always opening conversations by complimenting me on the colour. It’s intimate and there is none of the stand offishness one feels with men who are so often sniffing and vying for power or competing or judging.

I just like it.

My all time preferred wear is a t shirt and khaki shirts, I miss La Paz. I like sailing naked in Sea of Cortez only having a sarong ready in case other boats came close, My ex was fit and fun when she wasn’t in the morgue of her homes where only her drugs would lift her from the depressions and manias ,  I suppose one day I’ll forgive the people who hurt us . She was suicidal and homicidal.  When she was well she was a best friend and a partner in crime.  She always said I showed her a good time.  I’ve welcomed others on my adventures. As a kid I’d organize bike rides  and Carole sings and coffee houses and camp outs.  Now I’m a loner, I’ve my dog to think of.

In my next life I ‘ll be a young woman trying desperately to avoid teen age pregnancy. 

The sun is beautiful now . I think I’ll walk the dog again and ask about the swimming pool and hot tub.

I bought a box of Chinese mandarins for Christmas Laura bought me Oboz hiking boots for Christmas. I wore the boots today hiking the fog shrouded river trail with Madigan.  There was a full moon last night.  I ate the mandarins last night and this morning. It was a ritual of Christmas with my brother and I enjoying the mandarins my mother bought this time of year.

Rainy Day

Heavy rain beginning in night and continuing all morning. I slept in till 8 am. It’s a turn down day as the song says.  Madigan wanted me up earlier but I rolled over and ignored him hearing the heavy rain drum rolling on the roof. 

I finally fought his exuberance, jumping up on down on me, because it appears I’m getting up,.  Toilet. Dress.  Put on his rain coat and leash. Put on my rain coat and take umbrella. The neighbour was going out with his umbrella as I was. He continued to the car lot.  I dumped the garbage.  Walked to the river walk.  Rain so heavy Madigan didn’t want to continue.  I realized I had nothing better to do and need exercise.  I’ve girth.  We walked to the generator, ‘the long walk’. Maybe a half hour to 3/4 hours, there and back

Madigan was so happy to be home.  He sits on the stairs and waits for me to take off his leash and raincoat. The reward is his getting towelled off. He loves that then he’s mad dog running back and forth and hide speed rubbing his head in the carpet, jumping up and down off bed and couch.  A really big tado!

I usually meditate cross legged on the floor followed by stretches and sit ups.  After a rainy walk I’ve taken to getting out a chair to meditate on . Madigan is all over me with his little wet body and zooming if I try to sit cross legging on the floor. Even on a chair I couldn’t focus because he kept zooming about the room.  

I need a coffee I thought.

I love coffee.  

I’ve had a couple of cups of coffee and phoned some patients who had concerns. One was in. The most demanding was not in. I’ve phoned her everyday . I even gave her my home number but she lost it. Instead she phones the clinic demanding a controlled medication while she admits to doing drugs regularly.  She wants the pharmacist to be able to just dispense it. I want to talk to her before I do.  She seems to avoid me.  She’s been couch surfing.  I continue to try to do what is right but feel I have not back up..  

Self serving and self pity. - I read these words this week.  I’ve been fighting the self pity.  Self serving is a different matter.  I’ve had a life of service and duty and discipline.  Now I’m looking forward to vacations.  I am of retirement age.  I have nothing a whole lot better to do. It’s the obsession these days, I’d planned to sail in the Atlantic but my back pain worries me. I’m not afraid of the sailing as much as having an accident that would result in a costly repair.  Solo sailing is fine at sea but docking can be a real trial.  I’m also enjoying my comforts.  I’ve has such a harsh life sailing and northern work and hunting. I reflect on all those who live in townhouses and rent and have lease services and and cleaning services and got to resorts.  I’ve done a little of that but when I think back I’ve done a whole lot of heavy lifting in my life,  It’s okay to back off.  

I had the idea that I’d drive around the US for 3 months. I considered going au femme.  A variation of black like me that would change the social dynamics.  I like that au femme no one turns to me for help. I’m isolated and yet au drab I enjoy the male comraderie. It’s a social experiment. Then I wonder if it’s working out my sexual abuse and /or sexual addiction, Gender and sex.  

It’s so tied to being falsely accused and having the authorities back the lying greedy psychopaths with long histories of disgusting perversions and addiction and malingering and condemning castrating, humiliating and punishing me. $50,000 cost for lies The liars are dead now but the Nuremberg authoritiss go unpunished.  Then I think it’s my job to ‘let go and let god’.  The anxiety of being male is reduced wearing a skirt.  I’m eccentric.  I’m not a target as an old lady.  Old men especially old white men are vulnerable and targets of first order. I watched my friends be financially raped and ridiculed in old age. I remember when my father was targeted in old age and my mother asked my help, if I his son, hadn’t been able to confront his false accuser, no one would have,  A drunk he’d fired for stealing on the worksite and being drunk and doing drugs was placed in the public housing part of the housing my parents paid to be in.  This sociopath took over the recreation centre and spread lies about my father saying he’d never worked as an engineer or foreman of construction and all manner of outrageous false hood.  It made it tense for dad to go into the common coffee area because this belligerent bully literally lived there. It was funny too because Dad would doubt my acomnplisments  like when I said I shot a moose charging me and he did his ‘eye rolling’ and ‘sure bill’.  Mom and he would say they didn’t want me to be ‘too big for my britches’ but also called any story I told ‘bragging’ so I shut up. I did publicly confront dad’s bully and loudly list my father’s very impressive credentials for all in the recreation centre to hear, explained my position and credentials and asks the little shit what had he done in his life that gave him the right to judge and criticize . Naturally I told him that if I heard any more of his criticizing my father since I knew him for a drunk and liar and bully I’d be back personally to sort him out.  Mom thanked me and Dad no longer felt he had to stay in the suite and could again participate in the common area and go for coffee without being braced by this sociopath.  Dad didn’t thank me but my brother who is not one for confrontations told me Dad was thankful.  

My father in law was billetted hospital with a demented old boxer who beat him up each night. The wife, an insane harangan wouldn’t let the nurses change his room. His daughter was afraid of the mother who said he deserved this because paranoid and psychotic she believed he’d had an affair on her and vowed for years to make his life utter hell which she did, She hated me when I step in and separated him getting him a room of his own where he wouldn’t be nightly tormented.  

Now, no children, and the collection of enemies one gets from doing the right thing, the Christian thing, the moral thing, no good deed goes undefended. A life of fighting authorities on behalf of the vulnerable, aboriginals, veterans, women, the mentally ill, traumatized, old  and the addicted. Now I’m afraid no one will protect me.  I’m looking forward to death, rainbow bridge, seeing my mother and father and family and friends and mentors again, It’s the dying that scares me. Torture by Beurocratic meetings. 

I can’t stand even hearing Trudeau’s voice or seeing his face. He’s so irritating. He represents everything I’ve loathed in life, the incompetent, ignorant, pontificating , hypocritical, wastrel, pompous, arrogant and evil party boy.  I didn’t like them in school. The popular boy in the popular group went on to be caught as a serial rapist but his family hushed the news. Like the pedophile judge in BC.  The news for a day while an invalid doctor was publicly pilloried by false accusations for a year. I’m ashamed of myself. I’m like Peter who didn’t admit to authorities that I was his friend and I’d defend him in any means. I did the polite thing. I wrote letters . I was a decent feminized man. If I was a manly man I’d kill the sickos that took advantage of an old old man,  I am so ashamed .  He was a better man than me, forgiving and spiritual

I have been afraid so much of my life.  Being falsely accused.  My lying ex wife. The lying psychiatrist pig. The Hitler’s and Lenins.  

See the self pity and fear seep in to my mind at the littlest crack. When I’n dressed as a girl I can say ‘girls just want to have fun’..  I can be self serving.  It’s okay for women to be self serving, taking care of themselves and their children.  They rarely in my experience care for others not blood, Yet that’s a skewed view.  I can’t generalizer except against the Marxist lies of Marxist feminism and the propaganda of CBC and the lying liberal government of Canada,

I pray for my enemies. I try to focus on the good. I pray for the ability to forgive everyday I pray for forgiveness , I say over and over again, Let go And let God.  I ask for relief of the bondage of self. I know that my personal struggles made me what I am,  I know that expectations are preformed resentments. I know that rather than accepting ‘life on life’s terns’ I was idealistic and 

In my journal I ‘squeeze the pus from my brain’.  This is supposed to leave my mind free for the day,

Then I do gratitude lists. Thank you Lord for the good night of sleep. Thank you lord for breath. Thank you Lord for Madigan. Thank you Lord for the bank. Thank you Lord for work, Thank you Lord for heat but my heating bill doubled last month along with the food bill and gas bill and again Lord I suffered ‘fear of economic uncertainty’.  I castatrophize about the future yet today I’m fine.  I really need to get my head in the same room as my ass is. Thank you for family and friends. Thank you for the rain that waters the plants I so enjoy. Thank you for the river walk. Thank you for my car. Thank you for my clothes and umbrella.

I got a frozen bone for madigan but it wasn’t the right package. Normally the package is full of little knuckle bones but this one had on two bones that are thigh size. My little dog is having a heck of a time with a very big dogs bone.  It’s a delight to observe him.  

I am thankful Jesus. I’m thankful for your life and sacrifice. I am thankful for the promise of life after death and my experience and intuition that this world I am in is just a waiting room for heaven.  I am thankful for so much that is good . I am thankful for family who are truly amazing.   I’m thankful for friends though the death of so many wears on me. I fear getting close because the losses have been so severe.  I liked the article I read about ‘prolonged’ grief and identified. I miss my brother, my aunt, my mother and father and George and Bernie, and Hank .. I was sorry to see Dick died earlier this year.  I loved Dick and Cheryl.  I’ve missed the annual gathering of friends. I’m so self centred. I could be apart of but I isolate.  I make excuses.  I have Madigan and he’s not welcome in so many places and I don’t really care to find out if he’s welcome so avoid.  I felt sad when my other dogs and cats died, their short lives and while I maximized our time together I feel when I leave Madigan for  a half day it’s like months in dog world. I am planning to be apart from him for weeks and know that it will be so long but when I think I’m doing nothing I’ve raised this puppy this year. I’ve worked of course. I’ve taken care of us an friends and contributed to others lives and I’ve even made the bed.  So many others have not lived this long or come back from hell.  I have so much to be grateful for. Thank you Lord for all of your gifts. Thanks for Grace.  Thanks for connectedness.

Even now the day progresses and I’m caught between wanting to lie back and waste time and the thought of what I ‘should do’. I did some work and book keeping I could clean the place rather than hoping for a cleaning lady.  I could take a run to the storage locker. I need to put in the clam for UPS losing my new IPhone,  That’s what I’ll do.

So much I could do and yet I feel overwhelmed and just want to lie back and read a history book.  or a novel.  I should be writing them. I’ve books to complete but no I’m just here so often complaining and whining and snivelling when life is good. Thank you Jesus.  Help me be a better person today than I was yesterday. Help me to be of service. Thank You Jesus Christ

God within  God will come again.  Friend,

Fuck, fear, winter, self pity, resentment, god, death

I just read of a girl who was told she had a dirty mouth in school and today is a renown writer.It reminded me of being expelled from school for saying ‘fuck’ in a song. Fifty years later a ‘beaurocat’ told me seriously that doctors mustn’t have any conversations about sex with women.  « Women are very sensitive about sex and may be easily offended. ». My female gynaecologist friend said , »He said the same thing to me, ». They arranged a female Muslim doctor brought in from the 16th century to teach doctors how not to talk to women about sexuality.

The fragile sex.  It’s 2021.  

Fuck.

I want my mind to be a garden. I want there to be roses and birds singing and little fountains and meadows.  Instead I feel it’s a war zone with craters and stretches where the napalm was dropped. I’m weary as sin. I’m stumbling around in there bashing up against resentment and self pity, intrusive thoughts of rape and false accusations and lies coming at me from all direction like machine gun shells.  

I have to cling to the channel changer holding it on the God channel. My mind is a toddler on self destruct. The monkey mind.  

I’m afraid aging.  My back aches and I fear in a struggle I’d crack a rib, a hip or a leg or arm. I don’t feel that power of youth and immortality that lead me to believe that I could defend myself in a scuffle. Now they go in platoons.  Gangs of 20 year old and 30 year old men roaming the neighbourhood. I wake to the dreams of the Muslim Muggers, screaming ‘get the infidel’ as they tried to shove me to the ground ripping my cross from my throat before I parried.  I escaped and ran with 10 young military aged men chasing me in the center of downtown Athens.  Hundreds at surrounding restaurants,  All around up town, a police station a block away, my fine hotel two blocks.  I ran to the taxi and jumped in the sound of jeering still in my ears.

No consequences.  I’m sure there was vindication. Their testicles have withered with cancer and there eyes have been pierced with glass.  Divine retribution continues. The city of Athens suffers their plage. Human locusts.  Criminals with a cover story.  I don’t feel safe with Justin Trudeau as prime minister. He’s the nearest rot and evil I know.

I’m alone here in my home.  26 churches were burnt to the ground and no consequence. Karma and divine retribution.  The RCMP do nothing. If a mosque was burnt to the grounf Justin Trudeau would declare martial law.  

The aetheists are infiltrating everywhere.  Even the churches speak aetheist secularism not apparently knowing that secularism is not an aetheist religion policy.  Sharia and aetheists are for world domination The main religion of aetheism is communism. The aetheist communists are the greatest murderers since the Muslim hoards conquered the Middle East and invaded Europe.  

I don’t need to think of this. It’s all been said.

I have a mind that looks for excuses to suck on the tit of despair and self pity.  Death is coming. It’s a release and a transition. I’m not ending but rather like a caterpillar transforming to a butterfly. Even now all the accomplishments and diplomas medals and awards pale in my past.  Good stories.  Heroic deeds.  The Hero’s journey.

Now I struggle with what to do when I grow up, What next,  The government dictatorships and rumours of war.  Disease, HIV, Covid 19, define the landscape.  We are encouraged to alienate.  I want to writhe in orgies, not that I ever did. My dirty mind goes to the paints of hell by artists who inspired the porn industry years later.  To be naked in a hot tub with lascivious vixens. To be hooked up like a milking cow to an or gone box machine.  To have wires attached to pleasure centres of the brain and panel of dots to play music on.

It’s sordid.

I long for the soul rewarding flights on eagles wings.

I pray. I meditate.  I keep the fears and confusion at bay by praying unceasingly.  Left alone the mind doesn’t naturally go to the joys of the past. There were far more than the terrors.  Yet I don’t think of holding the baby. I don’t immediately think of stopping the bleeding. I don’t immediately think of seeing the hundreds who lived revolving door existences with mental hospitals and detoxes notices that after they left me they never returned to the asylum or jail.  I am anonymous. I conceal my contribution. I’m a channel. I’m the product of my teachers. It’s the jelly beans. Not me.  

In the end I was another cog in a machine. I did my time and one day I will walk away from the prison of discipline and duty and service.  

I don’t know what to do.

I thought to travel.

I thought to write.

I thought to have a coffee house where poets and the unplugged came with art on the wall and nightly entertainment. I thought hold workshops and have retreats. I thought to captain a ship.  All of these required like minded people. But today I don’t even find a dance partner. I walk the dog.  I’m a loner.

I’m paying off a mortgage but I have the money to pay it off in a year or two. There’s no encouragement to pay it off. The interest is so low.  I was going to upgrade my truck.  I wonder about selling my boat. I’ve this idea of camping and fishing and hunting.  

I’ve thought of cross dressing and doing the things I’ve loved in this life in the opposite role. There’s fun in doing the woman’s part. Same game , same show, different avatar.  Dancing in high heels.  Being looked at rather than looking. I thought of that as a way to spark an interest in the doldrums of life au drab.  

I’d like to be with a person whose joy was sex and play rather than eating and watching.  I miss the exercise world and yet it’s Covid and we all are in our rooms. I have no one to blame but myself.

I’m doing a lot. I’m maintaining my health and home. I’m kedging forward. Saving. Supporting family and friends in a small way. Providing entertainment. Participating. Attending. I work each day and for more and 30 years have focused on the other helping them at their worst, the most difficult and dangerous of pursuits.  I’ve walked through the physical dangers of jails and asylums and the mental emotional abuse and the land minds of violence. I’ve treated hundreds of borderline personality disorders and hundreds of addicts.  These are the toughest nuts. There have been no guards in the community.  I can’t count the times my life has been threatened just doing my job with no back up from above.  The beurocrats stand far to the back with pistols and shoots us at the front lines lashing us with whips and abuse and humiliation and decadence.  

I’m still standing, I’m still doing work and being paid a pittance relatively .  The government are theives no different than the times of Kings and Queens.  

I’ve a good life. I’ve been raising my dog this year. I’ve survived another year. I ‘m in God’s waiting room.  I’m still participating.  

Any day I will be grounded. I’ve still got my license.  I still believe in love. I have hope.  

I pray to God for direction. I do the best I can.  This day and tomorrow are fine.  My weekend will come and then there will be a break when I have a few days off and relax.  The coffee is always good.

I’m thankful

Uncertainty. Death a transit.

I no longer like to talk to people about things I know. They are not open minded, Their need to be experts in this world I’ve lived in is tedious. Like the coastal sailors telling me how to sail Now everyone is a doctor. I’m an old elephant. I want to walk away into a recluse and yet I’m not doing it. I’m conflicted. I still like the bright light.  The fat lady hasn’t sung and I have some more dances left.  I’m blessed beyond my wildest dreams and grateful.  

Time to enjoy the miracle and wonder of a hot shower before donning clean clothes and settling down to work.  

Thank you Jesus.

Guide me Lord. Show me the way!!!

 

Wet snow

My mind is in survival mode

I walked the dog in heavy rain that turned to wet snow as we came out of the forest.

Madigan is adorable.  He is so excited when I put the leash on him and tugs so hard when we are coming home.  He has a series of rituals and keeps me to them, his own internal alarm clock, He has his games,

I’ve read the National Post and enjoyed the writing today.  Rapid tests for Covid self exam are proliferating.  New economies.  Businessmen and entrepreneurs capitalizing on the changing times. Like the grow marijuana books. Travel books.  All the innovations of « inovision ». I’ve spent my life under attack by reactionary governments forces.  Now I’m growing old and wonder what I’ll do when I grow up.

I’ve been reading so much history.  I’ve been studying art

Preparing for this trip to Grandad’s birthplace has given me immediate purpose. It’s like kedging though this anchor I’ve thrown into the future to get off this shoal of Covid and lockdowns, 

I just read there are 100 billionaires in Beijing, 99 billionaires in New York.  I’m working on Friday morning again, partly because I have no camping to do in winter, and work is dharma and partly to pay for the costs of travel, mostly the cost of taking time off to travel. They laugh at me for being a wage slave and celebrate their cleverness in investing.  I lost all my investments in marriage and my support of feminism.  Now I’m old and wonder what it would be like if the plans of those years would have come to fruition. I left the professorship and cordoroy and books with one, the house I sill recall fondly and the clinic and private hospital with another.  Now I’m fearful.  The forces of evil still gather in the darkness at the edge of light. I’m hiding here in someway. Watching.  

Now I don’t know what comes next.  I’m resting up but should be doing Rocky Balboa, exercising and playing loud music.  Instead I’m studying history.  I’m overweight and getting throug the winter. I once skied through this season or sailed in the freezing rains or escaped to beaches.  Now I’m working.  I walk the dog. I eat. I read. I watch history.  I work. I am thankful

Seeing the snow today I’m reminded of so many mornings I looked out the window of my parent’s home at the snow.  Falling snow.  Evergreens hung in white.  It’s comforting, the feeling captured in phrases like ‘blankets of snow’.  The earth is being covered by it’s comforter. The bunnies are able to hide from they sky born predators. 

I’m thinking of showering and dressing, Each day a series of rituals.  

America and it’s allies face China and still Russia. I had hoped more from Russia.  Christianity has returned there. The dead souled communists were overthrown but Putin and Xi Jinping seem to join no different from the Socialists of last century Lenin/Stalin and Hitler andd Musuolini.  War looms.  I pray for space flights.  The hope for a meeting with Spock’s people.  A hope for the war to end.  Perhaps without the UN there could be world peace.  Babylon.

I’m thankful for the air I enjoy my first deep breaths in the morning. I’m thankful for my puppy.  He’s so enthusiastic about activity. I dreamed of being present at a castrastion and the chopping off of limb, back in the 15th century of modern Muslim sharia.  Christophobia is rampant.  Jesus was the god of Love.  Love your neighbour as yourself. Love God.  All we need is love. Agape. In the beginning the word.  Higher vivrabtions.  E =MC2.  Energy is fast matter.  All is light.  In Milton Satan the dark angel revelled in his shadow turning his back on the light of God.  CS Lewis’s said why look in the wall for the architect.t Jesus said do not be afraid.  

I am He I am He  Blessed spirt I am he,  I am free.  Free me of the bondage of self

I work so my dog can have a good life.  

Christmas is coming.  

The birth of Jesus.  Jesus Christ means God within and God will come again.  Playing hide and seek with God.  The Hound of Heaven.

Advent.

Hallelujah, 

God is good all of the time,  This to will pass.

Thank you Jesus.  Thank you God, 

Help me to be a better person today. Guide me. Thy will be done.  

Thank you Jesus.  

   

Sunday Winter Survival

« I feel like I’m just surviving, » she said, describing this winter.

 

First the fires of summer, the poor air, then the floods and destruction of Abbotsford, Merrit, Princeton and Chilliwack.  Delta variations of Covid then Omnicron.  Chinese Communitst Military’s huge weapons build up,. Xi Jinping like Hitler in the 30’s.  Tibet continues enslaved and genocide. The Ughers.  Organ transplants for the elite rich from the jails and concentration camps. It’s mostly bad news. Space travel news is good.

World testosterone levels fall,  In keeping with the universe 25  studies of rats populations becoming  gay with increasing internal strife.  More bad news,  Fear mongering media,

I’m planning the trip to Grandfathers home.  Months to come,  Looking forward to Harrison Hotsprings at Christmas.  Day to day work depression, anxiety and despair,  Virtual and phone consultations,  I’m doing routines.  It’s kind of purgatory,  The next right thing, I’m daring to plan and book a trip in all the uncertainty.  Details and purpose. I feel like I’m kedging off the shoal of lockdowns and government corruption.  I feel sick to my stomach when I see or hear Trudeau.  Thankfully Horgan and Dix don’t do this.  

I walk the dog along the river. The flood threat is passed . The rains continue. We had snow one day.  

The 26 church’s burnt to the ground are not followed up. Anti christian forces plague this new Canada where a mosque temple or synoagogue set on fire would bring martial law from Troudeau.  26 churches burned aren’t even a ‘hate’ crime. The anti white racism grows.  Biting the hand that feeds, it seems. Revolution.   The valley of the shadow of death

I’m reading Scottish art books.  

Laura is over.  Madigan is discombobulated by this incredible woman who disturbs his teen boy hormones. I refer to her as my trophy girlfriend.  We ‘re watching PBS crown.  The rains come and go.

I was anxious this morning when the propane ran out and the generator didn’t start for several tries.  I may have to get out the electric blanket.  I have the Northern Technology SAD Lite out in my garage office.  Yesterday we drove into town to the new MEC store on 2nd.  I bought a new light jacket for UK march  travel. Laura bought me light hiking boots. I ordered some for her online too,  The last pair I bought her for our Ireland trip 7 years ago.  She used them in India too.  These are ankle high with more water proofing and sturdier.  

I work and walk the dog and eat and watch tv. I didn’t make it to church this week but I was in two clinics and a meeting.  I pray a lot and meditate. The trip to the chiropractor was a godsend again with the back pain improved again.  I have to replace the couch and do more exercise.  We ‘re waiting on word from Frazerway about the camper repairs and whether a new truck is needed.  I even think another 3-5 years of work seems fine. 

Maria Gomorri just died.  Sad.  She was working into her 80’s 

I’m enjoying early morning breathing walking the dog. 

I love coffee but need to get more Ethiopian. I’d like to hear Lallibela churches were freed from the rebels.  Cost of living is rising.  Empty shelves. I have toilet paper.  We’re fine.  It’s just winter months, darkness and cold.  I put in tie downs and lawn pegs for the awning. I hope it works. We’ve had some high winds and I ‘ve taken it in.  I’d like the awning to stop the rain from always being there when I go out. A little space of dry.

Not much has changed.  Thank you Jesus.   

Communion

I made it to church this morning.  I woke at 630 and that was that. I couldn’t go back to sleep.  No reason not to get up and take Madigan for a walk, do my normal morning routine, and make it to church.  If I sleep in it doesn’t happen. It’s been months since I was last there. Months since last communion.  Zoom doesn’t quite make it. There was a time I was in church daily. Meditating with Benedictine monks.  Studying theology three nights a week.  Now I pray and meditate and know the time is ahead for meeting God , levelling up , through death.  There is no denial of death. I even like Leonard Cohen’s approach

As I lay dead on my love soaked bed

An angel came to kiss my head

I caught her gown and wrestled her down

To be my angel in death town

She shall not fly, she has promised to die

Oh what a lucky corpse am I.

The whole of life’s form, the clothing, the shell, the identity and all the memories and wars and loves are let go. They are on some iCloud but I and these ‘ego’ related ‘creatures’.  My thoughts are not my ‘self’. My ‘self’ is ‘soul’ and that which I am will remain and go to a different form. Heavenly or reincarnation.

I will meet God and ask him what was it all form.  Love , I’m sure.  Like the Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, some random number, will be the answer.  

I’m growing deaf. My dog was a rascal in church. There was another dog. Older well behaved. But that lead my dog to ‘rebel’ against me , his chosen master. He whines if he’s not with me. The sermon was on rebelllion.  The need for us as Christians to remember that Jesus wasn’t a goody goody two shoes. He was rejected and killed by church and state. He was a rebel and an outlaw.  Today Christians are persecuted again.

26 churches burnt to the ground. The lying Prime Minister would have declared Martial Law if only a few Mosques were burnt to the ground , or Synagogues.  26 churches burnt to the ground.  Who is the threat to authority?  The Communists, the religion of aetheism, have always persecuted the church. The Muslims have always persecuted Christians and Jews. The Middle East was once all Christian, Zoroastrian and Jewish. Mohammed changed that with his Jihad and war.  The lie is Islam is a religion of peace. Just like Marx said of his religion, Communism, there will be war until we win. So too there will be war until Islam wins.  

I want love and peace.  I’m a Christian.  The bullies always lie about the Crusaders. The Crusaders were defending Christian Civilization from Muslim Barbarism.  Mohammed men had invaded Spain and were only stopped at Venice.  Christians are slow to anger,. They turn their cheek seventy times seventy and then ‘that’s enough!”  “Enough is enough”. And the Christians fought the Nazis Socialism.   The Christians fought Chinese and Korean aetheists.  Today the traitors have welcomed the Trojan horse. The 5th columns are in place.  Corporations and Communism are Aetheist.  The aetheists have ‘God’s.’  They just don’t acknowledge them as such. They worship power and Monet. The communist God is the State. The corporate God is Money.  The Christian God is Yahweh, the same as the one God of the Jews.  The Brahma of Hinduism is akin to this God.  The Buddhists have a creator as the Taoists and Pagans. The tribal God of traditional society was one and many.  The aetheists communists and corporate aetheists are materialist. They worship the Golden Calf.  St. Paul called the Christian God the ‘unseen God’.  The God ‘within’.  

One must be humble and open minded to learn.  Aetheism is arrogant and closed minded.  

I’m a scientist. All is hypothesis to me.  Scientists are mostly spiritual. The essence of science is debate and possibility.  

I felt good seeing Emilie, the priest I know.  She was a friend of Vivian who has gone to the ‘happy hunting grounds’ of her people.  I am visitted by those who have passed before me. They visit in my dreams and I know them in synchronicity.

I ate the body of Christ.  This is my body I have shed for you.  He died. He rose. He will come again.  Jesus is my Lord.  Jesus son of God.  God omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent. I too am a son of God.  He is the first born.  My saviour.  In death he will join me in light and carry me over to the other side.  There will be family and friends and a wonderful reunion. A big meeting in the inner sky.

My dog was a rascal.  At the end he wanted to leave early. He bit his leash which he’s not supposed to do. He fussed.  He had the devil in him.  I laughed thinking of Molly another puppy who must have the naughtiness walked out of her.  Madigan had sat most of the hour and been quiet. I had to pick him up a few times.  He settled when I did. I forgot to bring a chew for him. A chew is like a dog’s colouring book.  But at the end , he’d had enough.  Even growled at me. I’d have swatted him for ‘talking back’ but he knew he had the upper hand, Witnesses and cameras. If we weren’t at the end of the service I’d have walked out but I wanted to hear the sending forth.  I was confused too because Emilie welcomed me from the front. I can’t hear without hearing aids and masks that muffle voices. Meanwhile Madigan is fussing and I think she asked his name but I gave her my name like she didnt know.  I used to bring Gilbert who she knew but Madigan is the year old and smaller and not the bishop blessed dog Gilbert was.  Madigan despite being at times angelic during the service, sleeping, was full of devilment when she was talking.  Covid and masks and hearing are a challenge. The stem on my glasses was lose so they were sliding off.  Another parishioner spoke to me in a whisper. I didn’t understand her but nodded like a fool.  We survived. Emilie asked us to join the others for coffee. I thanked her but said I had a meeting.  I wanted to get a lone with Madigan and wring his neck. But once he was out of the church he played with her dog and was adorable. He was so happy with our outing. In the car I couldn’t very well chastise him now. He was a really good guy, happy to be with me. Happy with all these people and happy to have made another dog friend.

God might well be a dog. 

Zoroastrian’s celebrated the dog,

In Hitchiker’s guide to the Galaxy the mice were the higher species doing experiments in the labs on the scientists.

God is good, All of the time. 

With Madigan I realize the challenge my parents had raising me.  I love that my nephews and god children are being raised by loving parents. I’m not very tolerant of Madigan in public. At home he walks all over me. But in public I notice I’m still embarrassed when he jumps up on people. He launches himself right into the crotches of women head first. They definitely have mixed reactions. But I try to stop him .  I don’t blame him. I’d like to meet and greet that way too. Now with Covid we are all so far apart.  I’ve so little contact in my virtual world.  Madigan is my hug buddy.  He’s learning not to jump up on me though he forgets and does. I’ve spent little time teaching him. My previous dogs had much more time and expectation and training,  I’m still teaching him ‘down’ and ‘no’ and ‘sit’.  He has food available all the time and doesn’t particular care for treats unless they’re from my plate.  I know the way is to control him with food but I don’t do that.  He’s ‘spoiled’. He’s more a room mate than a dog. 

Lord Jesus help me with my dog Madigan. Help me have patience and take time to train him more .  

Thank you for all my teachers and mentors. Thank you for the leaders I’ve been blessed to know. Thank you for this life. Thank you for St. Barnabus and Priest Emilie. Thank you for the mall where I must head out to again today.  

I’m getting red finger nails and toe nails for Christmas.  

Hair Appointment

I’m enjoying my hair long again.  Chatter’s Hair Salon in Lougheed Mall is my go to place, A beautiful young woman who only comes in on Saturdays did the best job of my hair one day finding the right blond tint so that the grey was hidden but the roots didn’t stand out.  

I’m often in the twin spirit world.  As a spiritual person I know myself as a soul.  Even believing in Christian reincarnation I see this body as temporal. God is not a gender.  I don’t know what to refer to myself as .  I sometimes say Gender Fluid. I’m no longer the ‘alpha male” I was for decades young. I was competitive successful and a stud, loving women solely yet I’d been abused and twenty years ago I began to integrate these selves.  The child within. I’d wanted to be a playwright and worked as a dancer. I loved the theatre.  But I took the responsible road of service. I married and waited for a family only to find the women had moved on and for some reason I chose girls who were independent and friends called career girls as opposed to homemakers. I loved them as companions but after years the lack of children or mutual focus interfered and with divorce I was thrown back into adolescence. That’s that developmental phase of being single betfore thee new family.  I took care of women.  Shared entirely the fruit of my labour with partners and family while having a good life with my dog.  

I enjoyed being the sailor. I enjoyed the tropics where a pair of shorts or a sarong was all I wore. I used to love suits and the ‘power’ of the military jackets. I loved the cordoroy and wool and the tie and that image of the university professor. But I left the university and the cancel culture destroyed all desire to teach.  Each time I spoke there was some bully in the audience.  The best was the lectures I gave to hundreds who all reported that I’d been the best teacher they’d ever had but one, the woman who was a pedophile with her husband , who had not been jailed with her husband, but let go free because of the perversion of the courts, well,  she joined the course and wrote reams of offence as aggression and the university asked how I’d so impressed 99% and offended this one. I couldn’t breach confidentiality and say that the children had told me she and her husband were both having sex with them but the police only arrested him. It was a real eye opener.  I watched year after year the legal evil of myopic focus and the new left comparison against the perfect, I didn’t want to teach where the bullies ruled. 

I stopped wanting to be the ‘wise man’ because all of my dreams of what I would be were trashed by the cultural terrorists. I was afraid.  Being held hostage. Being raped. Being in a plane crash. Going through the ice on a mercy run in a skidoo, being attacked repeatedly and always some space cadet administrator saying they could do better from their armchair desk.  I was a private on the front lines and turned down offer after offer to be an officer or go back into the fight.  I stopped killers and perverts in high places and was applauded by those who counted but made grevious enemies of those who shared the incompetence or perversions and feared me as I was not for sale. I always argued I was because everyone is but the price I would lie for was not little as some who propelled their careers with deceit and silence. . Then truth became relative and the women said ‘my truth’ and ‘your privilege’ and all manner of ‘jargon’.  I tried to stay away. I worked in a corner and paid my bills and tried to survive,  

95% of German society and Russian society were not the animals that Lenin and Hitler were.  Hitler rose to power because he was a killer and encouraged his brown shirts to silence or kill opposition. The Bolsheviks differed from the much larger Mensheviks because Lenin Stalin Molotov and Trotsky said it was good to murder and assassinate and torture and rob banks for the cause. The Maoists genocided the gentle Tibetans like the Muslim Turks genocided the Armenian Christians.  It takes only a a few men to overthrow a regime.  It’s those who do nothing that are complicit. Bonhoeffer spoke of this. Nuremberg confirmed it. Arendt called it the ‘banality of evil’.

I think estrogen encreases with age. I also have a back pain and young I’d fuck standing up with any number of injuries.  Today I really have to think if fucking is worth the pain.  I imagine that a blow job or being on the bottom is better as it’s less demanding. I’ve grown lazy with age. I don’t want to start a revolution. I don’t want to fight the good fight. I’m resting on my laurels. I’ve done the manly things and been vindicated over and over again.  I don’t think of it as resentment.  I’ve come to accept the past but the issue for me is the future

I’ve also realized that I have God’s protection.  Archangel Michael is there always cleaning up the threats. Also if the leadership were all bad, in the College in Government I’d not survive.  I’ve been persecuted and abused but it’s like all these good people who don’t want the evil perverts and lazy shits to win protect me from death and removal. I’ve survived only because the good people in government have supported me. One step ahead of the crowd, you’re a leader. Two steps a head of the crowd, you’re a martyr. I’m mostly 1 and 1 1/2 steps ahead.  

I love my reliable straight and narrow father friends who ,because they have children and mothers beside them ,have not had the advantage or disadvantage I’ve had of freedom. I’ve not had any children supervision or been that worried about consequence. I have taken risks physically and financially and career standing up to and stopping the bullies but I’ve also danced on the tables and sailed alone across an ocean or climbed mountains alone facing all manner of extraordinary danger which I’d not if I was a ‘family man’.  I actually did worry about my cat and dogs

But today I’d rather be a 50’s girl. I’m struggling with the image of retirement. I’m working as a wage slave within the narrowest range of healing we can do using a tenth of my capacity because lawyers and beurocrats are micromanaging health care and they are more into the Thanatos ‘death wish’ than Eros “the life wish. They seem to know nothing of miracles and even placebo,  They are sluggish in their thinking and ideas which are so concrete. Piaget wouldn’t approve. I’m in a cage of rules that prevent flying and all I can do is triage in war and leave the leadership to fools like Trudeau. I’m a foot soldier in the days of King George the 3rd.  Years from now they’ll find that there was a new ssyphillis that infecthed the minds of the UN dictators.

I’m old. It surprises me. I don’t really know what to do when I grow up. I’m doing okay. I’m a little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike hole doing the next right thing but I don’t feel I’m going up. Rather I’m holding my own,.  I used to be in joy with psychiatry loving helping the patients over and over again, watching them giving up death and suicide and addiction ,feeling good with my work.  I don’t have that same joy. The government invests in lies and euthanasia and Christians are persecuted and evil ideals prevail.

I was an idealist as a man. That was animus to me. My anima is ‘live and let live’….go with the flow and ‘don’t rock the boat.  “I’m a pacifist girl and have no desire to be on top. I like to wear panties and bra and remind myself I’m not wanting to fight. I’m old. I’m full of estrogen. The television and the university are full of Greta Thunberg. Girls voted for Trudeau. The feminists promise us they will protect us from the communists and rewrite history and deny the evil of women and that Hitler and Stalin and Mao had mothers and wives and girlfriends.  Perhaps more evil than them. The divide and conquer along feminist lines is women good, men bad,

I’m good there fore better to be a Mad Molly than get caught up in the English French insanity.  The old are the persecuted today. 

We saw that with Covid.  

The old are wasted with the devastation to their pensions and their lives of hard work stolen and belittled.  I’m one of the old. I dress like Klinger in this war.

I wouldn’t mind breasts but I’m rather fond of my Willie.  I loved learning that 10 % to 30% of men were having sex into their 90’s I’m all for being in that group,  More women are having sex too. I’d like to pleasure my partner and be pleasured but I don’t want to carry a bride to the bed room or do any of that harlequin romance or dirty 50 shades of grey shit. I’m a DH Lawrence sort that would like to play on the grass at the picnic. I sometimes miss marijuana because we spent hours lovemaking and now it’s not the process but the end.  I guess there’s the surprise in lasting.  Orgasm.  Rated or over rated.  

I’ve loved the psychologist friends and female doctors I knew who had long term relationships with males and females.  Even now I know so many that switched sides after decades of marriage.  A change. The psychologist said I love a person and if I love the person I will love the body. They’d been wth a man for 20 years and were with a woman for 20 years. They didn’t have morality or believe in the anti homosexuality so prevalent in those who need a scapegoat.  Cherry pickers from the bible who love to point fingers but deny their own sins. Everyone carrying signs saying my sin is less than yours. 

I’m into gluttony with Covid. I’ve got my 20 lbs and bought my first container of egg nog. I suspect it will be my last. I’m too fat for Christmas.

Advent. The coming of the king.

So many I have known have died.  Jim Donahue sang, Coming of the King before Christmas and moved me to the core,  

Now I enjoy that I can wear a dress to the mall and get my hair done and no one seems to care, I was early having long hair and was shot at and was chased through corn fields of Saskatchewan by four guys with base ball bats screaming kill the hippy.kill the long hair. 

It’s probably why I cling to what’s left of it. And still swear being attacked for saying fuck by Elliott’s hollow men.

I guess I have ptsd.  

I loved Travelling Wilbury’s. 

Handle me with Care. Going to the end of the line.

The dead are light points of darkness in the sky where constellations once were. I look up and the Big Dipper is gone. My brother and father and mother. The North Star is not there. Orion is absent. Cassiopeia is a point of darkness. Bernie, Hank, Scotty.  

I find it hard to get close.  Every one seems mortal to me and I’m like the Highlander.  I feel lifetimes along and so few are continuing to survive with the future more of this while I just want to play. Girls just want to have fun . I miss the dance. Jesus said do not be afraid. It’s all fear porn today.

One day I’ll ‘retire’ and maybe return to theatre and dance , play guitar around campfires, ATV in the woods with my dog, sail oceans again. . Right now I’m doing my “duty”.  I’m stoking the star maker machinery behind the popular song.  Carrie get out your cane. 

I can’t even relate to the music today.  Love the symphony.  Appreciate history.  Like walking among art. Contemplation, prayer , meditation,  

I find people say away from me when I cross dress.  Young, they bullied me but today I’m old and keep  my space if respected but as an old man I’m threatens  Young Turks and Young Thugs.  I jumped in the air and kicked the leader of the gang right in the face as they came for me.  I took out two with jump kicks and kneed a third in the face and the rest held back as I then ran. I was young and full of life,  Now I’d pull my groin muscle if I jumped in the air.  When the Muslim muggers in Athens assaulted me screaming ‘kill the infidel’ ,  stealing my gold cross for money not for religion, I’d only been able to run, my first martial art,

Yet when the dark men on Davis Street who were assaulting single femine men hospitalizing them circled me in my high heels I realized how vulnerable women dress , dependent on the group and the society. Faced  with these barbarian low brows I was rather frightened that I was going to get hurt and wasn’t going to be able to out run them in high heels.  As a man I’m always carrying some kind of weapon, Boy Cout prepared with Leatherman or Swiss Army Knife or worse.

it’s strange.

When I’m alone I have no limit to the thoughts and imagination. Among friends I settle into the role. When I’m sexually active with a woman there’s little desire to be anything more than her partner but alone without plans and a world of choice I’m wondering if I should go bungee cord jumping, take a course in sky diving or get a ticket to Thailand to have breasts. I really like breasts and having my own pair might reduce the pangs I feel when the girlfriend leaves.  All the women I ‘ve known have had marvellous breasts and my lesbian friends tell me that they’re as enamoured with breasts as I am. But then I’ve loved all aspects of women except the false acccusations, lies and deceit and evil which is forgiven by women so that they don’t seem to manage their own so often where as I’ve many times controlled men who would hurt women.  All the causes I’ve been in defending ‘underdogs’ and now I’m growing old and don’t feel the safety of the group,.  I don’t feel my mind is anything but in high heels in a court of jackals. That’s fear.

Jesus said “Do not be afraid’.  ‘Jesus never said anything about women in business suits’.  He never said anything about men in frocks either.

Oh well. Time to dress for a hair apt.  

Shame

Hard Start, 5 Snooze bar presses

I was dreaming I was at a meeting of friends.  I think I’m missing my annual conference. I’d also lost a favorite medical text but had a binder with me.  I was streaming into a lecture theatre with a lot of good folk and the subject was spiritual and the presenter divine. I woke at 4 30.  I felt good. I used the washroom and crawled back into bed under the thick warm comforters feeling grateful. I’d gone to bed early too.  I’m reading Edinburgh Dusk, a detective novel placed in 19th century Scotland. Good late night read. I’m also reading a history of Scottish Art.

I woke again when the alarm went off at 630.  I hit the snooze bar.  I even hit it one last time after Madigan jumped on my face like a rodeo horse.  It was kind of a pout. If you’re going to interfere with my getting up, then I’m not getting up. I felt kind of 5 years old.  

I was feeling lonely, a bit like my life is bare. I’ve been working longer hours and everyone is in despair.  The APA said depressions were 3x worse this last year.  Just numbers but if the prevalence of depression is 30 % that means 90% are depressed. I was sad and irritated by a person critizing me and the staff for not seeing her more frequency or responding to her emergencies.  I wrote a letter saying I’ll never be able to meet her expectations. I read that the ‘burnt out’ ration for health care workers is 90%.  I think I’m doing good to get up and go to work. I liked reading Elizabeth Taylor saying, you just get up and fight through.’  I like saying to myself do the next right thing. 

I was up and dressed and haf the garbage and Madigan on a leash.  I immediately saw my beautiful neighbour. She stopped to greet Madigan. Her and her husband are in the film industry.  Then. Peter appeared with Madigan’s girlfriend Bella, and their new havanese Luka, only 10 weeks old.  The dogs has a marvellous sniff and greet while Peter and I talked weather and pleasantry.

I was so exhausted and brain weary and worked so late last night I missed my meeting. I watched a rerun of Charlies Angels and enjoyed the escapism and the pretty girls.  Silliness with action.  I ate canned soup and toast and went to bed early.

I loved the smell of the air and the sun was rising. I’d not seen the sun in days . It’s totally uplifting for my spirits. Friends are going and returning from Purerta Vuarta, Arizona and Florida.  I’m really looking forward to going to Grandad’s place of birth in Scotland.  I’ve been thinking of sailing so haven’t been able to sell my boat.  I believe my camper is being repaired. Thaun is arranging travel insurance. I liked talking with Anil who forewarned me there’s an age limit on RRSP contributions. I don’t see myself not working but the government is the enemy of citizens making it even harder to protect ourselves. They’ve invested our pensions in the Communist Chinese coal mines.

The Omicron variant is upon us. The Ghislane Maxwell/Epstein trial is on. The Best meme was Hillary phoning Ghislane saying ‘how would you like to hang tonight, girlfriend’.  Bill Clinton lies about all his time on Epsteins Island. Trudeau was there but Trump wasn’t and Trump banned him from his golf course.  But that’s just what the news fables say.  I’m in the midst of more revival about what I actually know and focussing on that. I breathed deeply today and the air smelt wonderful. I may be regaining some ability to distinguish scent. I lost that a few years back and couldn’t smell manure but could still smell smoke. I can’t smell light fragrance but still smell musk. Then every once in a while I feel I’ve been treated to the full sense of smell again and scents of the forest are as fragrant as this morning.

Life is good , all of the time. It’s perception mostly if not all.  My back is feeling better each day and it was really limiting there for a weeks or months.  Dr. Reddy the chiropractor is helping.  Then it’s sunny today and the storms seem past. 

Hallelujah! Thank you God for all your blessings. Thank you for Madigan, family, friends. This morning I thought I was alone and suddenly God put two lovely people in my path.  Thank you Jesus.  Now Madigan is playing happily on the rug rolling on his back with the long giraffe toy trapped in his paws while he chews on the ears. 

Thank you.