Madigan is leash crazy puppy brain squirmy jumpy happy. He brings a smile from the native elder couple making coffee along the way. They wave. I wave back. They have a little rig pulled by a crew cab truck. Older than me. RV parks and campgrounds are a mix of the old in RV’s and the young in tents.
Yesterday a half dozen slim tall youthful beauties in hoodies waiting for a young man to produce Russian coffee or tea with his silver gleaming Samnovar. It seemed incongruous here. He was beaming ,being of service to the waiting lovelies. At an age where a single luxury can distinguish a young man. Attract the attention of the fertile.
The black girl walked by this morning, close cropped hair, arms crossed beneath the purple shawl she’d wrapped around her. The pinks of her barefoot soles apparent each step she made. There are washrooms and showers in the centre of campground. With the Covid crisis abetting facilities are open again. July 1st the authorities announced we no longer needed to wear our masks The year of facelessness over.
Another elder woman sat in a camp chair looking out at Croft Island. I imagined her speaking with the creator. The air about her dark haired head shimmmered in that way that occurs when people of prayer connect with the matrix. Further along another woman sat in silence also looking west across the wide Frazer river, her hands busy knitting. Children talked in play in a tent we passed. Madigan marked his territory all along the way.
Thé office was closed. The distinguished woman, dark skinned from summer sun, shorts and t shirt, had talked to me last night of her daughter and grand daughter. We shared our grief in the death of dogs celebrated the life of Madigan. « My daughter has a similar dog, ‘ she said. ‘So good spirited. I want another but I worry about them getting along. My granddaughter wants another dog but the next one I want for myself. »
I thought of Puka then, Vivian’s dog. Vivian who died of Covid attached to a machine. Native elder, Anglican priest. She always missed her little dog hit by a car. I thought of them reuniting. No iPhones. No selphies. Just love, recorded in the Word. The next dimension so close we can touch it with out minds and souls.
Thé fence here was adorned with paper crosses and orange t shirts. Across the way was the Catholic Church. It was a monument to the children who died in institutions nameless. The church participating in partial failure of residential schools. A reminiscence of a time when infant mortality was so high everywhere in tribal society before civilization. Yet civilization also brought it’s horrors of death. The scale of killing maximized by the modern communist states. Hundreds of millions killed efficiently. Now we all worry, is Agenda 21 upon us now, the globalists and their barbarism, dictators and their power hungry plays with lives of the weak and vulnerable. I mourn for babies taken from their homes. I even read how the Liberal government of the day killed thousands of dogs and gave the inuit snowmobiles in exchange. I remember Dr. Jack Hildes on a flight to the north in a DC3 plane talking of the forced dependency of the day, the government destroying even the marginal existence of the Inuit to impose their religion of consumerism. .
The overdose deaths are the penultimate expression of Communist Chinese export. The UN security council sells arms and deaths. Trudeau rather than caring for seniors gives them euthanasia and celebrates his generosity. The media propaganda says all manner of lies.
I’m here in a blessing. I’m here where black birds are singing in the trees above. Madigan is so happy with all the natural scents and sights. I’m glad to have the purpose in walking the dog. A new day dawning.
« An unscheduled day, » Laura says with wonder in the tone of voice. We are weary with healing and the industry of care. It’s the masks and fear and lies. I’m glad for the break. This day is the Lord’s day. Canada Day was yesterday. That was the Lord’s day too. But we were tired from seeing Lytton on fires, the smoke in the streets as the houses along Highway One caught fire, people fleeing down the street, helicopter water bombers pouring vast buckets on the town like eye dropper rat water loads before the monster fire beast. The air was toxic. We drove hours back here so thankful for a place to stay with the amenities we longed for. Electricity and city water. We are wilderness capable, set for days of off grid living, even caring a rifle and satellite phone, But the propane freezer was being difficult and the electricity kept our meat cold. I’d a generator I could have used back woods but here thanks to that lovely grandmother whose sign said the camp was full but her eyes understood the weariness in mine, gave us a special unspoken place to stay.
Laura was tired. She’d not slept. The west end of Vancouver has become bedlam. A man jumped, was pushed or fell across from her balcony,. She heard the body thump then saw the body on the street. It bothered her and the people fleeing the burning houses of Lytton disturbed her. She became critical of me and life and only Madigan could comfort her as she pulled in on herself.
I was thankful for this place. We’ve been here before and loved the winds. The daily winds that kept away mosquitoes and bugs and soothed the soul. I was thankful and now am here.
« I’ve not slept all week, ambulances, police sirens. There was the man and then the next night swat teams and gangs. Every day when I walk to work downtown on Davie the windows are smashed, Subway, Starbucks, the Optometrist. » she says, The lawless are more and more empowered by fifth columns and negligence.
Fires are happening all over southern BC. They’re blaming it on the heat. It’s also arson. The hooligans have been burning churches. Last year hundreds of arsonists caused the worst of the fires. The cameras captured them in Australia, California and British Columbia. But the media never spoke of consequence. With Covid they let the criminals out of jail and imprisoned Christians, ministers and adolescent hockey players. The government passes more and more censorship laws.
More and more terrorism, Brownshirts and Antifida. Different names for the same old same old. Nazi Communist gangs destroy. They tear down Macdonald’s Statue and leave Trudeau statue of hate standing. The violent rapist, Floyds has a statue is erected. In life he held guns to the pregnant wombs of girls terrifying them and their unborn children but in death is eulogized. The world is mad.
Taiwan stands free while air craft carriers from China move into feed. They genocided Tibet. Like the Turkeys and the Amenians. The Nazis and the Jews. The Muslims and the Homosexuals. The oldest law of the world is the Chinese law of the Fish. « There are big fish and little fish. The little fish must be fast and numerous. » Britain, Australia and the US are coming to the aid of democracy. New planes and drone carrying missiles. Japan and Singapore, South Korea, Thailand all are facing up to the Communist Chinese threat. Even India is moving an air craft carrier into place. 50,000 troops are moved along the border to face the soldiers that Justin Trudeau has been secretly training in war while Canadians are excluded once again from the intelligence sharing of allies. The news is all about the traitors pretty socks.
I don’t know anymore. The disinformation and confusion has reached a new level of loud. I can’t watch the fear mongering media anymore. I hear despair each day.
I’m thankful for this lull. Summer has saved us. The sun and vitamin D are here again. Computer projections can’t compete with reality and never account for spiritual variables. Babylon is distant from this now and here, .
Back in the camper I’m happy for the coffee. Such a gift with cream and honey and inner heat. Laura is awake and cuddling with Madigan who is love incarnate. These are what are important. Like ‘love in the time of cholera’. We are here where the flames and heat are healing Covid but killing homes like chemotherapy that takes some living to expel the disease.
I’m thankful. A new day. A day to breath and soak in sun and thank God for all the blessings. The morning breezes have begun. Two girls have come to the near by tap to wash their morning breakfast dishes together. I’m making another coffee. Laura is reading in bed. Madigan chews on a stick. I like watching people across the way emerge from tents to stretch and look about in wonder. It’s a new day. An unscheduled day
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment