Surviving

I’m surviving. I’m getting by.  I’m doing time.  I’m doing good. I’m grateful. I’m in god’s waiting room. I’m on the bench. I’m okay. All is well. I feel like a shoe has to drop. The lockdowns, the masks, the threat of war, war and rumours of war, the invasions we can’t call invasions, the haters we can’t call haters, the death of democracy, all the fears, censorship, catastrophizing, what to think. Death seems imminent. I’m aware of many passing. My age retiring or dying or having disease.

I’m wondering what to do when I grow up. What’s the next chapter.

I had thought sail the Atlantic but don’t really want the struggle or the cast.  

I was interested in finding God but it’s the hound of heaven times and foot steps in the sand. God’s with me all the time.

I’m going bow hunting.I don’t want to kill but I want venison. I’m one with Creator when I’m harvesting.  I’m in a soft world and I like it. A place of hair and nails and skirts and visits for therapy. I loved 9 perfect strangers.  I once was William Hurt in his movies. Identified with Clint Eastwood one, even Woody Allen and Sean Connery. Now I’m Mr. Bean.

There’s a farcical side to life, Monty Python compared to War and Peace. I don’t live large. I’m average.  A kazoo in the symphony of life.  I no longer envy the kettle drum or the cello. I’m marking time. Pacing.  Waiting for a sign. Waiting for Godot.

I’m raising a puppy. 

I’m healing.

I’m carrying for folk in an okay sort of way. I once demanded greatness from myself. Now I’m holding the line. I’m not happy with the leadership, in general. I’ve watched years of waste and corruption lies and abuse.  I’m suffering like others. I watch my tax dollars go to the worst evil and I used to think it was okay because taxes paid for roads and hospitals. Now they pay for terrorists and Quebec con man and liars.  I’m irritated. Just generally.  There’s the sense that the UN is no longer benign but an instrument of war, Sharia Communism.  Feminism has failed women.  Christianity has been weak in recent days but we turn the cheek 70 times 70≥ I’m sure I’ve turned my head like Carrie.

Where are you now Douglas Adams? 

I’m not sitting on the dock of the bay but rather here in Canada with coming winter and feeling fear about the flu and Covid not rationally but because of years of NOCEBO and CURSING by government. The boogeyman will get you. I’m more likely to die from an accident. Yet theres’ fashion in the news. Lemming minds.  Let’s dog pile this idea.

I’m limited by social media. I trust more what friends share that the anonymous propaganda of ‘official’ news. The ‘fact checkers’ alligned’ with mainstream media have been so wrong and biased and ignorant of post graduate thought.  They cater to the masses.  Lies.

But all is well in my realm.

Carpe died. I’m truly blessed. Rather than compare my present with the worst days of my past I’m somehow comparing with idealized perfection. 

This is good. Life is good. I’m blessed. God is good. All of the time.

Thank you for the light and sound. Thank you for the breath. Thank you for the dog. Thank you for my home. Thank you for family and friends. Thank you for the colours. Thank you for heart. Thank you for motion. Thank you for gravity. Thank you for imagination. Thank you for creation. Thank you for guidance. Thank you for love and lust and celebration and laughter. Thank you for wakefulness and sleep. Thank you for similarities and opposites. Thank you for mind. Thank you for taste. Thank you for attraction and repulsion. Thank you for immunology and psychiatry . Thank you for music. Thank you for ideas. Thank you for trees and birds and lakes and streams. Thank you for stories. Thank you for reading. Thank you Jesus.