Aging

I was bothered when the Generation Z asked me if I could refer her to someone her age.  

Generation Z was apparently born 1997 to 2012.  , current age 11 -26

Millennials are currently 27 -42 and Gen X born 19981-96 current age 27 too 42.

Boomers were over 60. They use Facebook and read mainstream media.

She was 18 and wanted a psychiatrist who was her age.  “It took me 12 years of post high school education to become a psychiatrist”.  I’d only agreed to see an 18 yo old because the local pediatricians and child psychiatrists are sending their patients out into the adult world and none can find psychiatrists and the pharmacists want their complex medications prescribed by specialists.  I felt injured and realized I’ve always been sensitive because I haven’t had children.  The Lord of the Flies group toughens parents up and helps them survive as adults.  Teen agers are the fast lane in the freeway for adults learning to protect themselves for witticisms, satire, irony and general verbal abuse.

Ageism is rampant in Canada. Trudeau hates everyone but the generation Z because no one votes for his imbecility. 

I felt old. Having told her that there’s a shortage of specialists and that she could ask her family physician to find a young psychiatrist for her I wrote her complex prescription and thought how I really don’t like doing adolescent psychiatry any more. I saw so many a decade ago but now in my post retirement state I really don’t want criticism. I’ve had 40 years of working with the toughest crowd, the most demanding, most difficult, least desired, most critical and most complex patients in pscyhiatry, trauma, head injury and addiction and pain disorders.  I’m tired.  

Next a millennial, another woman in her 20’s says she just wants me to listen to her and doesn’t want to hear my anecdotes no matter how funny they are.  I have listened to her complain, yes complain, and walllow in self pity, yes wallow in self pity and go on for hours describing her negative mood and wanting me to ‘listen’.  We stopped doing that as psychiatrists in the 30’s . Cognitive behaviour therapy is a ‘teaching model’.  The patient isn’t being observed like in Freuds time.  Giving medications I spend a lot of time talking about the pros and cons of medications. I’m a drug salesman. I also share about other patients positive responses and help delineate what is biological , psychological and sociological. A lot of college kids and patients with counselling have just enough knowledge to hurt themselves.  S

Psychopharmacology is like all other areas of specialist medicine.  Diagnostics in psychiatrist is most difficult because we don’t have a scan or a blood test. But the actual approach to medication trials isn’t that complicated. It was for me working with head injuries. There’s 50 plus neuropathways but the treatment of deperession and anxiety are well mapped out.  The trouble is that people smoking dope don’t have the same reaction to meds as others and psychiatric treatment in general is highly individualized.  

So now I don’t want to talk. I miss my years of psychoanalytic psychiatry where it was relatively easy as patients had jobs and relationships and educations and I saw them twice a week and knew them intimately and didn’t even speak for months,  The patients kept dream journals and were highly active an weren’t escaping to ‘my medication needs adjustement’ when they were challenged by an interpretation. Now I see people at 3 months intervals, sometimes 6 months, and they’re on medication and they haven’t worked through fate and free will and haven’t even done CBT 101.  So they praise success and attribute it to themselves and blame failure and attribute it to others.  

“If there is something I’m doing that you don’t like I need to hear about it today. Generalizations are not helpful. I am seeing you today and if you wish for me to listen to something today I can yet I asked if you had anything you wanted to share at the beginning of he session and you said no so I started talking.  I am quite capable of listening the whole session but if you’re not talking and don’t have question naturally I’m going to dissess medication and address biological, psychological, sovilolgical seenvarios and yes anecdotes are part of my therapeutic strategies.  Story telling therapy was developed to by pass resistances and help people access unconscious issues in parallel as well as seeding. The difficulty is that in modern psychiatry we know that dwelling on the negatives and staying in the problem rather than focussing on solutions is not helpful.  That ‘type’ of therapy is available still through psychologists and analysts but its done weekly and not something I’m providing as a walk in clinic psychiatrist. These clinical resources are available for government services but my patients have genearally only found group therapy available.  Personally as a specialist I’m discouraged from seeing patient more often than at 6 month intervals and am pad less for seeing people at monthly and three month intervals. That’s however my loss but I’m more comfortable with that.  

Of course the patient is merely frustrated with her illness and displacing that onto the therapist . Expectations are all being thwarted in this post covid time when the mentally ill are most being tried by the inflation an increasing government and society demands and the pressures of competition and the successes of the rich. None of my patients can even afford the dream of owning a house or perhaps living in Vancouver and their struggles are real. I’d be able to offer more with weekly and twice weekly therapy but the government wants me to supervise and consult. I struggle because there are no resources for the many.  Everyone was promised a family physician trained in psychotherapy ad most of my patients can’t find a family physician and are left with physician assistants in walk in clinics.  

I’ve worked in scarcity for decades . The last 10 years the worts. I think of retirement.  I would travel read and write but I still have the majority of patients and colleagues thanking me for coming to work despite aches and pains andd age.  I just wish someone would explain to people that the problem is their government and not all of us who ware working. The money for health care was stolen for administration.  There’s been a rape of the system. There’s too many demands and too few works. There 80% burn out. Thee are shortages everywhere. The administration meanwhile is daily caught for unethical behaviour and corruption but demands perfections from doctors and imposes more and more expectation on them while we are paid less and less

It’s a pressure cooker. That’s what my patients are experiencing. They are young anf it’s tragic seeing in Vancouver what I saw all the time when I was a flyin doctors and working on northern reserves where lack of resources was the normal.  Here the kids are still being sold pretty pictures in high priced education systems which no longer are matching the education with what will be high paid incomes.  It’s a cluster fuck and I say daily it’s going to get better,

And we made it through another winter and the sun is helping and more patients are coming out of their misery with relaxed restrictions , more jobs, and summer sunshine.  ‘I’ll continue to work.   It’s okay.  All shall be well.  

Part Object

In psychiatry, especially psychoanalysis and obviously the school of object relations, object refers roughly to ‘person’.  Freud conceptualized the ego, id and super ego which were later broadened to mean child, adult and parent or society.  Jung conceptualized the persona, the face we know and show the world, the shadow, the unconscious we don’t know or don’t show and the animus and anima, female and masculine parts along with archetypes the parts or phases of the person representing judge, heirophant, empress etc, much like the characters of the tarot deck taken from medieval cultural religious reflection,

These ideas were also linked to notion of development, the progress of the child to the adult and a linear development with various stages most represented by the work of Erik Erickson and Maslow.  

The part object as opposed to the ‘whole object’ is a dynamic especially today in the consumer society and increasing robotiziation of society with development of legalistic politic terms like ‘boundaries’ to reduce relationships between people.  The ‘part object’ is best represented by the consumer item of the ‘sex doll’ or ‘prostitute’ or labourer.  In this dyadic transactional social construct the buyer requests a ‘part’ , sex, or surgery, or the waitress from the other person and not ‘themselves’.  The employer or boss can be a ‘whole person’ but the employees are mere functional objects who performe one factory activity. John is no longer john but the ‘button pusher’.  In the military, the ‘grunt’ is the ‘rifle’ .  In Vietnam war the limited value of the person is no one wished to know the ‘new guys’ name as the turn over was so severe.

Boundaries make the workplace safe but the workplace of the medieval village was the home.  The workplace of the tribal society was also the home The workplace separation and partition of society like the invídias occurred with the ‘part object’. 

In Good Life the latest glimpse into the continuing Harvard Grant Study begun with the graduating class of Harvard 1940 the latest insight into longevity was the critical importance of ‘community’.  Community like home was normal in the tribals, agrarian and craft societies only becoming avoidable in the industrial and post industrial age of post modernism or ultramodernism. 

My elderly patient talks to the barista when he gets his morning coffee. She knows his name, the name of his children as he knows her name and the latest boy she is dating and that her friend Carly and her share cats and have cat dates.  The employer, the boss man, is hoping to replace her with machines as the main stores have done introducing self checkout.  Doctors who once lived in the community of their patients who knew them and their families as their patients knew them are advised only  ‘sell’ the drugs’ and ‘sell the procedures’ .

In psychoanalysis women were discouraged from wearing wedding rings or distinctive clothing as the work of the therapist was to establish a ‘blank slate’ and create a setting for reflection with reduced sensory input and provide a ‘hypnosis’ prone environment for the exploration of the unconscious.  

The psychoanalysit wish the patient to ‘project’ their ideas of this ‘stranger’ so the therapist could ‘interpret’ and explore with the patient the prevailing projections which carried over from the past especially from the traumas of childhood.

Today knowing the pharmacist is pro euthanasia for the elderly would be more protective for the patient than the pharmacist presenting as a blank slate.  However if the Lordco parts man’s sole job is to be inhuman with corporate ‘boundaries’ and anagrams of behaviour then of course they can be replaced by a machine.  

The efficacy of AI medical models have turned out to be less than 50 % and far less accurate than the doctors. The judge however’s capacity to identify truthfulness is no greater than the machine.  Even lie detector machines can be ‘beaten’.  The consumer society though is less interested in accuracy or truth because the numbers are not individual but rather patterns of large groups, actuarial.  

Stalin is credited as winning against Germany on the Eastern front but only because he sacrificed ‘hoards’ of men and equipment .  Studies of military leaders with untreated PTSD show that they can compete in war games but sacrifice life at an extraordinary rate.  Being a robot doesn’t improve of the success but depends upon numbers and crunching numbers rather than the brilliance associated with the novel.

Studies of pre industrial society show that there was open conversation about sex and death and violence and all else.  The diversity and creativity of later ‘circles’ like Virginia Wolf’s and the Huxley show that the whole idea of ‘boundaries’ and ‘reductionism’ and ‘part object’ were the opposite of what was sought.  Openness was beyon censorship. Stagnation is what occurred in closed censored societies and this is appearing most to the consumer society model with the part objects.  Corporations which in the law are e persons are in deed not. The idea of human becomes like their corporate part object consstuct is seen now with society reduced to laws and boundaries and individuals judged by social credits, ‘community standards better called ‘fashions’ that restrict individuals to ‘part object’ status.  This is in no way an ‘inclusive society’. 

AI is purely a part object

The psychopath is inherently a ‘part object’ becausee he/she lacks empathy , like the machine.

Communism is god less, the ideal a parody of 19th century rationalism.  The military industrial complex is of course a part object measured by ‘body counts’ . War is truly part objects while only in peace and love can one pass beyond boundaries to the grace of self actualization and full object participation in what increasingly becomes the ‘flow’ and ‘objects’s give way to the new idea of ‘personhood’.  Enlightenment. 

Fort Garry Library

It was always a big excursion as a child, a regular sunny day adventure. It began late spring in Winnipeg, continued through summer and carried into the fall.  I don’t remember winter excursions though expect Dad probably drove us a few times.  There were always books around our home when I was growing up.  I had my pile and Ronny had his. We were able to check out five or 6 each as a child. Mom would take one or two herself. She liked westerns.  Dad read books but they were mostly engineering, mechanical and electrical books he bought so he could make notations in them  They stood in the book shelves beside his easy reclining chair so he could reach them while sitting back.

I remember trips to the library with Mom and Ronny began when I was five or 6.  My brother would have been 9 or 10 at the time.  We’d moved to Winnipeg from Toronto when I was 5 , taking the CPR train, which had been really exciting.  I especially loved  running all the way from the front to the back of the rocking cars, eating in the dining car and sleeping in the bunks. A man in a black uniform with gold buttons and a little hat pulled back the curtain, shining a light into the sleeping space telling my brother and I to stop talking and go to sleep.  I think my mother or father had put him up to that because we were just so excited by riding on the train it was next to impossible to fall asleep the first night of the three day trip.  

We  lived in downtown Fort Rouge temporarily when we arrived, right near Trinity Baptist Church and what became known as Crazy Corners intersection.  I went to Kindergarden at a school which would be torn down to make that bigger intersection. I remember it most because they had great tube slides we’d have to get into to escape for fire drills. The first time was horrifying but after that when we actually shot out the bottom on the ground alive, I couldn’wait for fire drills.  

Dad and Mom found the Fort Gary home, a red brick bungalow with a large garden and three big spruce trees at the front of the yard.  Two sweet old English ladies dressed in tweed wool suits.  . They had two little face licking British Bulldogs which I played with while the adults were making arrangements for the transfer of property.  My brother was looking at the girls next door as they had come out on the lawn to look at us. 

The library was quite the walk at the time.  Six or more city blocks.  I admire kids who grew up in the country and can tell distance. I still think of distance in city blocks rather than miles or kilometres.   We lived  on North Drive by the Red River near where the Golf Club and Badminton Club was.  

“Hurry up, Billy!”my mom would call as we were leaving. She’d be wearing her long white cotton coat over her dark blue midi dress, nylons and sensible leather walking shoes.  She had fabulous long thick  red hair which she covered with  colourful scarves  Ron and I wore slacks and sneakers, ball caps, long sleeved shirts and wind breakers.  Mom made sure we had clean button shirts for the library excursion. It wasn’t like church where we only wore white shirts or school where we could sometimes wear t shirts.  Somewhere in between but still  important.  She took a last look at our faces and ears holding us by our chins before we went out the front door.   My brother and I had satchels to carry our books.  I had my lucky white rabbit foot in my pocket. Mom was carrying her big leather purse over her arm She always had candy treats in that, plus wallet and Kleenex and everything else you might find at a pharmacy or hardware store.  The dog was left at home and not too pleased at that.

We walked down the steps and up the sidewalk and on to the Viscount Alexander Elementary School which Ron and I attended.  Our little group would carryon walking diagnonally across the play fields till we came out on another street which cut across to Crane and took us to the foot ball field and hockey rinks behind the swimming pool, police station and Vincent Massey High School.  The Fort Garry Library was on Pembina Highway by the school. We’d walk out on Pembina with all the traffic Mom had avoided by taking the direct cross suburb walk.  She’d point out Robins and daffodils and talk sometimes non stop about the neighbourhood trying to get Ron to open up. He was more reserved than I was, more like Dad. I was more like my Mom. I talked easily with her. I told her everything every day loving being with her always. She’d be doing the dishes or just standing waiting for a bus and I’d hug her leg and cling to her just loving being close to my mom, the warmth and sweet smell of her.  

The grey haired lady at the Library knew my mom beaming when we all came in. 

“Good Morning, Mrs. Hay. How are you today? And how are the boys. Did you like all your books.”

“We’re just fine. It’s a lovely sunny day,”  she said   “Ronny finished all his books right away though Billy took his time. I loved the new Zane Grey you recommended.”  She  opened her purse taking out two paper backs novels giving them to the librarian.  Ronny and I would lift our satchels onto the counter.  The smiling librarian stamped each of the cards on the inside of the front cover of the books beside our names. When you took out a book you could see everyone else who’d read it too.

While mom stayed and chatted Ronny and I wandered off into the library where the distinctive smell of the stacks and stacks of books would become one of my all time favourite smells.  The books he liked were in a different section  He could stand up to find books and there was a big person desk for him to sit and read a bit of books he chose. My section was low to the carpetted floor and I could read the books I selected lying on the floor or sitting at little  people tables and little people chairs.

I mostly looked at pictures when we began going to the library.  Soon I’d be in a whole world of talking animals, space ships, bright colours and folks in fancy dress costumes from around the world. It would be later when Dad bought us boys a globe that I’d learn where all the strangely dressed people came from in the books I liked.  Inuit in furs hunting seals, Japanese women in long kimonos, Africans in little clothes wearing necklaces with gold or ivory.  It was all very exotic.  I especially liked the blue skinned aliens who looked much like us but had close fitting white suits and seemed stretched out.  I’d never know how long we were there before Mom would be calling. 

“Billy have you chosen your books” 

I’d look up and Mom and Ron were already at the counter. I’d have to rush through the books I been looking at and choose 5 that I could take with me.  We’d sign them out.  Ronny and I  carrying our satchels of books would follow  mom out the library ready for another week or two of reading.  .  The walk would begin.  Often though we’d walk along the highway sidewalk  now that  some of our natural kid energy had been worn off  by the morning adventure.  We’d evstop somewhere along the route and she’d take out a Wagon Wheel and  break off piece for each of us. We didn’t have anything to drink but chewed on our treat savouring it thoroughly as we trudged back home. .  After we passed the movie theatre we’d turn off Pembina, head  down Lyon turning at the Anglican Church for the last block to home. 

The dog would be so happy to see us running around in circles as Mom took our jackets and hung them up in the hall closet.  Ron nywould go right to our room to lie on the bed on his belly and and start reading.  I’d  followed mom into the kitchen where she’d make sandwich’s.  Grilled cheese were my favourite.  She’d often serve them to my brother and I along with tomato soup. ,. We’d always drink a  glass of milk though Ronny sometimes had two. He really liked his milk.  The dog would be in attendance. Mom would slip him at bit of grilled cheese sandwich though we boys weren’t allowed to feed him at the table.   It would be another couple of weeks before our next library excursion on another warm and sunny day. 

 

God, Jazz, Cleaning Ladies

Yesterday the cleaning ladies came. It was a particularly hard day of work.  Entitlement and criticism and no doubt generations of negativity had come in the latest package of unrealistic expectation.  The broken down Honda Civic driver asks that I repair their car and turn it into a Ferrari but that the government will pay. I’m trying to get back the hundred thousand the government owes me while they’re demanding back a few ten thousand.  Lawyers owe me fifty thousand and I’ve short changed myself more than I will ever know. I want peace.  Work is in the centre of chaos.

The cleaning ladies came at the end of my day. The dog was barking. There were vacuum cleaners and a couple of times voices were raised and I continued to talk and listen to angry sad frightened people, my hearing aids not quite working, the wifi and cell connection not so great.  I was thankful that survive. I looked at social media and saw that I was banned as a domestic terrorist psychopath danger to the Zuckerberg kingdom because I told my friend who loved to clean storage lockers that I now intended to kidnap her and lock her in my storage locker till it was cleared and cleaned as I was sure I had three of everything I was buying these days.  

Of course I disagreed but then they said I could even write a defence and maybe they would consider it.  This is what frightens me. That helpless hopeless feeling before the feet of the dangerous controlling unjust totalitarian authority. The new Canada where the police always side with the dictator. The individual is stripped of their rights and dignity. They are only allowed in the ‘community’ if they accept the language and insaniety of the community.  Climate Emergency.  Jan. 6 insurrection.  Boys are girls and girls are boys.  The constructionism.  Dirty young men and women suffused with grandiosity and money sitting in little teams and rooms coming up with Cultural Revolutions and 1984 . People who never read history and blame everyone else on the pogroms and massacres without accepting that everything is in balance, connected and karma. The sins of the fathers.  These aetheists deny the existence of hell so act like they are alone in this world and Ghengis Khan the universe.  Toddlers on crack.

So I was doing okay. The day was going well. Then I was ‘triggered’ the  buzz word and back in prison and asylum with my life in the hands of an insane monster above the law.  All powerful .  Threatening.  

I want to live.  I want to love.

I read this doctor who said he planned to retire at 80. He’s nearly 70.  They’re threatening to take his license.  I thought 80 would be good.  I stress out about what I’m supposed to do. I don’t feel safe in Canada.  I don’t feel safe as Russia and China arm and ally.  It’s all like the history of WWII and I wonder where I should position myself. I have endless survivor skills but personally I’m old.

I miss sailing. I miss my sailboat. I miss having it on the ocean.  I put it up for sail because it was locked in the Great Lakes and needed to escape to an ocean.  I fear Africa and Asian and South America and even Europe more than I fear Canada.  I read about where to retire.  

I lit a candle last night and put on soft jazz and listened. I’d been listening to Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison. It was after my men’s meeting where I enjoyed being a ‘part of’.  I liked sharing troubles with a friend who shared his with me and we laughed. He’s a mensch.  So many are.  I’ve lost one in the Beurocracy of work.  

I lay back and closed my eyes and enjoyed the jasmine smell of the candle and the ordered cleanliness of my home. I thanked God for cleaning ladies. I thanked God for that moment when I listened to music remembering nights with candles listening to Jean Luc Ponte, my first home of my own, the bungalow which my father had helped me buy checking the foundation and pipes and roof.  She was beautiful too.  We were young.  Early.  Relationships.  I was alone last night. The dog had gone to bed to sleep on the fresh sheets and covers.  I was two people, the active worker doer and the appreciative passive artist child thankful for this imaginary moment. My guitar is on the wall. I thoughttt to play it as I’ve written songs before and poetry but instead just listened to the mellow music , enjoying the mood.  Taking a break from the busy.  

Thank you God for this existence. Thank you for this new day. Thank you for all your blessings. May I know you more and do your will. Thank you Jesus.  Thank you saints of all religions. Thank you God of Gods.

Dreams, ennui, spring

I had a twinge of ennui this morning.  Restless, irritable, discontent and fear are the signs of self will run riot, lack of gratitude, half filled glass thinking, negativity.  

I dreamed of my mystical happy safe place. It was first in the harbour watching Tom pilot the SV Giri out of a scrum of boats that had impeded it’s departure. I was on the dock and didn’t need to go .  The harbour was packed with boats. I enjoyed seeing mine free and knowing that I could get on it and continue out to the ocean and around the peninsula to parts unknown.  My own personal escape pod.

I walked up to the conference centre where many people mingled about at the great meeting in the sky. The hill wasn’t steep. It was like Greece.  Mediterranean.  The white walls and people dressed in sandals, cotton slacks, light shirts.  The washroom was clean and I didn’t experience the shame of a filthy toilet like ones I encountered in South Asia and airports. There was a pristine quality to the place.  I had rooms that overlooked the sea but no piles of clothes and equipment.  There was a service going on and I joined in for a while sitting with other listening to a symphony and sermon.  It was a lecture more than admonition.  Informative. Sharing.  People were light and kind hearted.  

Then I was in the hills and ravine with my truck I’d parked in a glen before hiking with my rifle. There were moose and other wild animals appearing in the bushes and trees.  I wasn’t alone.   A group of three hunters had shot a miniature moose and were butchering it. I hadn’t shot anything yet but asked had told a fellow hunter of shooting a moose at 300 yards once and the deer at 600 yards.  I was a lone this night though earlier in the week my little dog was with me and on the weekend I’d met up with Laura in the halls.  

I think it’s an amalgam of university, travel, hunting, and meetings.  My heaven. 

I am loathe to leave it in the morning.  I return to this world to the demand of the clock, work by the hour, anxiety about inflation, government corruption , health.  

My little dog rests his head on my neck.  The alarm sounds with the creed.  God is great all of the time. I’m thankful for this day and this life.  My monkey mind goes to the impatience with the camper waiting for moulding parts to complete the repair, the lawyer who hasn’t paid me from last year, thousands owed, the concern about more dues payments required, anxiety about learning to drive and pull a big trailer.  The thought of stowing andd cleaning the clutter. The daunting task of reducing the storage locker. The boat that waits for sale or use.

It’s spring. Yesterday was the official day.  I had my nails painted black on the weekend with Laura.  It was a costly weekend. I worry about spending. I fear retirement and risking costs. The cost of living in Vancouver and the lower mainland is obscene.  I don’t belong here.  I’m middle class at best financially and the West coast has devolved into the medieval age of rich and poor, elite and peasants.  I’m too old to become a criminal and weary of being a wage slave.  Of course my back hurts. 

Yet I’m freed of one more of the enemies who count of Monte Christo harmed me taking advantage of my innocence and being mean spirited, selfish.  There’s a connection in all of them to drugs and alcohol and Crawley. The satanic sulphur scent lingers in the memory and history.

I fear I’ve lived a lot of my life with ‘identification with the aggressor’.  If you can’t beat them join them. What I don’t like or fear I become .  I experience the need for camouflage. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I’m reminded of my adolescents nights of flying dreams and the mobs chasing beneath me. I’m reminded of the beings of light of my adolescence, encounters with angels, all that paranormal experience of the early teens before sex , alcohol and drugs. Later LSD would have me connected with all and everything. I sing the body electric.  Then meditation and prayer.

Now I afraid of fear for it seems to attract that which I’m afraid of to me. Yet God is good all of the time and I know I’m one.  

I’m still critical of the Corrupt and Evil PM .  I have this weakness.  I think people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.  I join with the group against the WEF and UN take over.  I feared censorship and communist totalitarianism and yet here it is. I am set to be free of this place as the jack boots sounds in the near future , Communist Chinese Police squads killing Tibetan monks and spreading their filth and shit everywhere.  

I don’t want a revolution.  I want the tyranny to stop.  But I identify with the aggressor.  I miss the library and books and writing, the canoe and bicycle.  I like my Vespa and Mini. I like my folding boat and electric engine. I’m working well back within my bounds when of course I can cross oceans in hurricanes and ride motorcycles on the edge of twisters.  Ive restricted myself to recovery, healing, growing strong again.  

We’ve all been cocooned by covid and lockdowns,  I’ve survived the loneliness again . I’m isolated like a monk but need to continue forward. I wanted to take another theological or writing course.  Camping is soon. 

I’m praying to God always for direction and guidance and the power do God’s will. 

Thank you Jesus. 

Warm and Sunny Saturday in March

This day is lovely, Lord. Thank you.  We have risen to sunshine, sleeping in an hour till the dog and bladders woke us from the revery of peaceful dreams.  Laura’s soft and smooth voluptuous body slept beside me through the nights.  Her perfume tantalizingly filling the air with thoughts of flowers and musk.  Madigan, the cockapoo dog was glad that I rose . He stayed behind with his loved mother human, getting more sleep before his happy trip outside to water the nearest bush.

I sat cross legged on my yoga mat meditating, listening for your wee small voice, silencing the monkey mind and asking for thy will and the power to carry it out.  It was good to be close to the stillness, breathing in and out as the mind calmed and focussed on the oneness of you. You are all.  I ‘m so distracted so easily by the myriad.

More exercise, stretching, praying for the healing of my lumbar spine rising, I made coffee.  I was sipping my first cup when your appeared, leopard printed covering over your scarlet negligee.

“Good morning, dear.  A coffee.” I said.

“Thank you, ‘

I ground more beans and prepared the expresso machine for another cup.  Creamo from the fridge and Canadian honey.  I handed you your cup sitting beside you with Madigan between us waiting for treats and walks.

“I like this microwave bacon crisper I said loading the upright structure with thick cut slices of bacon.”  I toasted fresh cobs bread as the bacon sizzled.  The canola butter creamy spread served well on the toast with the crisp bacon on top.  

“I love it ‘ she said as I served her as she handed bits of bacon to the pup.

I’m reading the historical fiction of Carthage and the Niki riots of 5th century Constantinople under Justinian.  It’s now called Istanbul since the Muslims took the city in the 1500’s .  Reading of the times of Emperor Justin and Justinian I’m taken back to walking in the streets, now so changed but all built atop the centuries before.  I could have walked where the hero Varus and heroine , wife of Justinian Theordorus walked.  It’s the wars of the Roman Empire after the west has fallen.  Laura was sifting through social media enjoying her daughter’s family, pictures and comments. My nephews and in laws are also chatting in our private ‘big family’ space.  Meanwhile Laura and Madigan and I are really doing very little , enjoying the morning off the clock, ignoring demands.  

She had a shower then I did before we dressed for outdoors and walked Madigan along the river. I’d seen the first mallards there this week The sun today was glorious.  We’d no need of coats, outside in shirts. Others walked there dog and a few cyclists rode by.  My nephew had sent a picture of a beautiful blue jay and we only have the Stellar’s Jay here with a patch of blue.  

“I had blue jays in my back yard at Yarrow.  They came for the nuts.”  Laura said.  

“I’d love to see them, The King fisher is my blue bird of happiness and I’m I’m grateful to have seen the local one already this year.’

Molly the big old Basset Hound was happy to see Madigan , their tales wagging. A social event.

When we returned home Laura made turkey sandwiches.  I roasted green Ethiopian beans and enjoyed the fresh dark coffee. Laura had another cup too as we returned to reading and scanning social media. I napped for a bit. Madigan walked on my face.

Our neighbours left and Madigan barked at the noise of their departure. Nicolina has a new electric scooter so was zooming about the neighbourhood full of glee while Ernst was on the roof cleaning moss away from his antennae mounts. Mylo their dog was happy too with spring.

I’ts early but this evening I’ve steaks to barbecue with potatos and zucchini.  Last night we watched Liam Neilsen in the film noir, gumshoe detective movie, Marlowe.  We loved it .  An end to a great Friday of work and activity,  

I love the spring and sunshine,  It’s wonderful to have Laura over. We’re both looking forward to the return of the camper and a trip to the Princeton area for an escape for the city. The city here in Burnaby suburb has been really rather serene.  We may be getting some balance in our work and life schedule. The need for escape isn’t so great as it has been in the past.  

Thank you God for the peace and quiet and the pleasure of family and friends,   I loved learning that Kevin and Anna and the kids are getting a dog. I hope to visit them soon with Madigan to meet the new addition. With all their time in the woods with the wee ones a dog is such a worthy addition to camping.  I loved growing up myself camping, hunting and fishing. Our  family alway had dogs..

Thank you God for the blessing of my childhood and life. Thank you for my loving parents and brother and the great dogs that accompanied us on all the outdoor adventures.  

,

First warm and sunny day

‘It’s 13 degrees outside at 5 pm, ‘ she said with astonishment and delight.  

‘I’m going outside then to get some fresh air while the sun is still out.” I answered.

Madigan remained with her, his mommy, his goddess.  She comes and goes .  I remain.  He knows I’ll come back but she might disappear if he isn’t vigilant.  She was seated on the lazy boy with her legs out before her. He was cuddled in at her side. I’d been seated up with my legs across the middle lazy boy and back against pillows. We were both reading.  I was going from a tale of Rome by William Havelock to social media.   Intermittently I’d comment or she would.

I’d shown her the picture of the great nephews Tanya shared.

“they have matching St. Patrick day pyjamas”. I said

‘Too cute” she responded leaning over to see the ipad I was thrusting at her.

A while passed as I read more of shield walls in the fight between Rome and Persia.  Back to the social media.

“I like how your daughter has put the roast on top of the vegetables. Then she shows she separated the roast after a while and cooked it in tin foil while stewing the veggies. “

‘That is a good idea,” she shared looking up from pictures of her grand children on her iPhone.  

For a while we talked of our trip to Ireland.  

“I really loved being there,”. I said,

“The Irish nurse I work with says it’s not as big a big a deal as it is in the US. ‘

“I read a piece where an Irish writer criticized the US St. Paddy Day for it’s ‘plastic paddy’ influence, the green beer and drunkenness. It’s a spiritual time,’ 

‘That’s what she says too, “ she responded.

“Here’s a lovely picture of my colleague celebrating St. Patrick’s day.,  She looks great. She lived and worked in Ireland before coming here.” 

‘She really is beautiful,” Laura said again leaning over to see the ipad image I was reaching over to her.

My arm shakes when I extend it holding something. The traumatic arthritis catching up to me. I can adapt to the limitations but I shame sometimes gets to me. I was getting out of the car stiffly when we took the little guy out to the dog park talking of getting a bigger car which would be easier to get in and out of.  

‘I liked it best when we were younger and nothing was sore,’

Madigan met a beautiful blond spaniel at the park

“There’s your Nicole Kidman, “ Laura said to him as he began to follow her about brain adddled, 

We went to two off leash dog parks. The first was the Hume Dog Park.  A couple were talking about how the isolation and lockdowns had affected the socialization of their kids and the dogs. 

“My guys more anxious ,” I shared with the mother of the retriever.  

Later Laura told me that a woman had told her that they’d had to be masked and gloved to drop off their dogs at the doggie day care with ‘no touching’ throughout covid.  

“That’s just silliness, “ I said. “But I love the imaged”

I made a chilli last night and when she arrived and I’d hung up her coat and let Madigan bounce all about her I’d asked if she wanted a bowl for lunch.

“Sure , ‘ She said.

I used to make lots of chilli, and curries and stews when I’d shot a a deer or moose but the last few years I’d only used the crock pot a few times.  I like my own spicing and cooking.  

“You can’t get any stew as good as this at a restaurant,” she said,

I know I liked this girl for her looks. She’s still stunning and alway will be but the intelligence is brimming over.  Love my dog, love my cooking.  Smart girl. Not just good looking.  

“You know I just feel lonely at times. When you’re here I feel calmer more content.”

“I feel lonely too, you know.  I loved when you visitted me last weekend.  “

I’ve put out the pork loins and have taken the rice maker out of the cupboard.  It’s especially nice to have someone to share meals with.  Madigan is good company but Madigan and Laura are especially so, 

St. Patrick’s Day

I’ve arisen today and recited St. Patrick’s Breastplate Prayer. It was wonderful to go to the Fay land of Ireland, hear traditional music of Galway, see the Guildhall of Derry and wander through the graveyards with all the glorious Celtic Cross’s.  

I found my grandfather’s grave on my mother’s side and met a man who knew my geologist grand uncle well.  Such a wonderful time with Laura. We swore we’d return.  So much to see in a little island.  

I regret I didn’t appreciate matters of heritage and religion earlier in my life. My mother celebrated her Irish roots , herself born in Canada but both parents immigrants.  It was a joy to visit the Belfast of Van Morison and hear his songs of places reverberate there.  Drapersville near where my Grandfather was born and my brother had been was so picturesque.  

Since being there St. Patrick’s Day will never be the same. Once a parade day, Plastic Paddyness, was  like the Easter bunny parade, but now it’s all become like Easter of Jesus and a celebration of the ancient Celt.   The spirituality and creativity of the place touched my soul.

I arise today 

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity.

Through belief in the Threeness,

Through Confession of the Oneness

Of the Creator of Creation.

This morning I awoke to pictures shared by Tanya and Andrew of the great nephews in their Green matching Paddy PJ’s, Great looking little guys.  So proud of their parents.

Carpe Diem, ODAAT

Well thank you for waking me up again God. Thank you for the great dreams, the community I was in, the truck I had, the boat I was towing and the bigger sail boat in the marina, I liked my sniper rifle too.  It was good to be in that place, that peninsula , that I regularly dream off.

Thank you for Madigan. Thank you for keeping my little dog safe and well.

This morning what is it that you want from me.

Love God and Love your neighbour as yourself.

That’s the first premise.  Love God. 

I prayed this morning. I meditated and listened to God.

What would God say to me.

Do not be afraid.  Love.  Trust. Have faith.  I am your father /mother and I am protecting you.  I am here with you.  There is only God. All of creation is me. I am the fabric of existence and you are not a prop of that existence but a family member, an actor in this drama of life I co create with you.  Positive attraction produces positive results. What you focus on is what I will reward you with more of.  Focus on higher things, agape rather than lust, altruism rather than greed and narcissism,  Be good.  Listen to your conscience.

Do the best you can in all your endeavours.  

I think of my parents often and realized in retrospect how much good they taught me.

I think of my mentors, sponsors, teachers and how much wisdom they shared.  

I am at an age when I’m reading obituaries of friends and enemies. As enemies I have long forgiven them but then I also feel that Jesus comes as a stranger so that enemies are teachers who I have lost games to or not seen coming or was hurt by but ultimately through my own negligence and lack of discernment.  Recently a man who abused me and took advantage of me and lied insisting that I wanted what he did, gas lighting narcisstic, self centred bully that he was, law breaking, deviant.  Yet if I wasn’t smoking dope and drinking in those days I would have not fallen in with lower companions.  

Thank you today that I am sober.  One day at a time. When I looked back on my life so many of the things I thought of as bad in my life occurred when I was smoking marijuana and drinking wine.  The things I most appreciate in my life occurred when I was straight and sober, There was obviously overlap but by far the good occurred when I was fully present. I am thankful that I stopped smoking and drinking decades ago.  I also look back and see that I had access to the finest Christian gentleman psychiatrist and teacher, Dr. White, but that I was distrustful , raised in church, I thought I knew what he was saying but I didn’t. Years later I understood, only then, what he told me repeatedly. However I chose to go to the dark side attracted by the marijuana and drunkenness.  I made the choice to be with those who drank, always picking women who drank and smoked dope only to say ‘poor me’ later when those relationships failed.  

I have struggled to forgive. I pray for those who have hurt me and now they are dying and I have no excuse or anyone to blame.  I have to look at my own weakness and character defect. This day I want to be the best man I can be. I want to be a better person. I want to reach for the highest star. I want to love and live.

Please God be my lodestar.  Please God be with me and guide me. Thy will not my will be done. Jesus Christ lift up my heart and open my mind to the joy you bring and to the hope and promises that are in every breath I take. 

Thank you God. 

New Apple Magic Keyboard

I’ve successfully used my last Magic Keyboard for a couple of years. The delete and space bar stopped working when I was deciding to get a new IPad.  At first the Magic Keyboard worked without a problem but then it started again. I just bought a new Magic Keyboard at Staples . I hope I can get the old one repaired as back up. I do like this new one and am glad to be using it with the new ipad.  They really are great. 

I liked that Staples is dog friendly so I wouldn’t have to leave him in the car as I would have at Apple in the mall.  

Well I’m fully updated again and happy with this.  

God, gratitude, Sunday

I didn’t make it to church this morning.  When Helena asked I responded that i’d been to visit Laura in the Westend Friday and Saturday.   That’s enough outings for a post covid recluse.  I will get back to chruch soon. I love the rituals and place of worship, the minister and others sharing faith.

 

God I thank you for this day. Thank you for light. Thank you for warmth. Thank you for Madigan. Thank you for communiation. Thank you for family. Thank you for coffee. Thank you for clean water. Thank you for Apple computers and Ipads.  Thank you my mini Cooper. Thank you for my Vespa.  Thank you for all your blessings .Thank you for this life of adcenture and learning.  Guide me to my next project. Thank you for my work and the ability to serve and heal.  

 

God, I understand you as energy   I believe i am made of star dust, energy and matter created by you. I know you as the crator.  You are creator and sustainer.

 

I know that time is central.  You are in the centre of the centre, the present. You are omnisicent. I am a child of God using the anthropomoric language.

 

I imagine you created me as a child to grow. I see that nature has babies, children, adults and old.  I see the example of life in all of nature.  I question my purpose and meaning now.

 

Buddha said desire is the root of all suffering.  

Jesus said Love God and Love your Neighbour as yourself.

Kierkegaard said life is suffering untill death.

Love is the lesson.  Lust to Agape.  Attachment to mother to attachment to God.  

Thee idea of God as a higher power, that I am not God, the movemnt from narcissim to altruism according to Freud’s daughter.

Jung and the myths and archetypes.

The journey.  The hero’s journey according to Campbell.

 

If I produced children I could relax and beliece they’d prickd up the relay as Rudyard Kipling would proclaim of the next genration in the era of empire.

 

We’re post modern, post rational, a trans nation, ruled by ‘useful idiots’ and ‘fools'

 

Consumerism is the material worldd of fear and paranoia - those with the most toys when they die win according to satan.

 

Yet peace of mind is not something you can buy nor love.  Nor can you buy your way into the afterlife.

 

Pascal’s wager.

 

Karma and divine retribution.  The non accountability of those who think all is construction, the denial of a reality , which is not just the seen and unseen.

 

The idea that reality is an idea is fine but Vonnegut said we are peepholes on reality.  The idea of a collectice unconscious of Jung.

 

The Tibetan Book of the Dead says we reincarnate as a team that has written their script in the bardot between incarnation.  

 

We are walking each other home.

 

Yet I believe that I can not get to heaven ‘first’ till all have gone before. The Sermon on the Mount spaks to the mystery at the core.  Jesus is waiting for me and you to pass through so he can rejoin hi father

 

I’m doing the laundry and the power to the washer drier tripped. I imagine this has some insight.  As above so below. Everything is interconnected. There is synchronicity and yet the externalization of polcie and gocernment is my concern.

 

I am the child within but I’m also the parent within. I have anxiety about government today, failing banks, lunatic lying psychopathic leders.

 

The oldest law of the world is the Chinese law of the fish  There are big fish and little fish.

 

Shit happens

 

I’m amused at all the games the young play, like that story of the war games that were in deed strategy and tactic developments that won a distant war against aliens though the children never knew they were any more than games.

 

In our own ways we’ve developed skills and competencies.  The admiistratice managerial sorts are of course grandiose But then I’m a science grad and consider my science skills superior to my poetry skills because of the money value.  Money is what the woman told me she worked three jobs for.  I’ve had goals like sailing across an ocean the decision following my partners desire to live in Shaughassey and her undermining of our homestad.  I really loved the country homestead but was constantly dealing with betrayal and subterfuge.  

 

She has what she wanted. Her minimal work and return to her mother’s mausoleum, the house and status.  She was always afraid and met those men who compete always. I won but I wasn’t competing and lost only when betrayed by Jesebel.  But that was necessary for my own larning.  All has been a learning experience.  What my friend calls an AFGE - another fucking growth experience.

 

I’m older now and in that world of dying friends and sickness.  I hace been reborn to what purpose.  

 

I don’t like revenge porn. I would discuss that with my Jewish friend filled with anger and hate at the enemies of his blood line.  Generational war. I see that with my black friend now.  

 

 

 

Personally I’m Jacob/israel wrestling with the angel. I’m playing peek aboo with Jesus.  I don’t want a penthouse suite in downtown vancouver or New York or Bombay. I want to be in the country in an RV park with wifi .  I want to walk my dog in differ3ent fields. I want to swim more and do more yoga and tai chi.  I want to write more.

 

The aliens looked alot like me.  Mirror images of my bipedal form.  Yet they had red jackets sto my blue. Their weapons were newer. Their shields less pitted.  I didn’t know what they wanted but they clarified that when they shot at me.  Offensie little shits. I’d once again trusted and against my better advise not accepted the best defence is an offense. I did duck and dive and roll and came up shooting myself. My fire was more accurate. I watched the two of the bastards sizzle before my ray gun.

 

I liked that I had a ray gun. Others in my platoon had rail guns and lazer rifle.  Mine was a thing of imagination and spirituality. Beyond science.  I called it excalibur. It could cut a wide slice or narrow to a sniper beam.  

 

What were the aliens doing here.  Other than wanting to kill me what did they want. There must be a bigger plan.

 

“You okay, boss.”  We heard the weapons.  He looked beyond me to the piles of arms legs and goo. The head and torso of each was gone but still steaming.

 

’That’s them, boss,”  Harry asked,

 

“I guess so.  They fired at me so I retured fire. Lucky I wasn’t the one fried."

 

‘Command didn’t say if they were friendly or not. Just to be on alert. “ added Sheila. She was distinguable but her oversized armour.  She was tiny and that was the best they could do on short notice.  So many called up when the lights in the sky appeared. 

 

“At least now we know they’re not friendly.”  the whiz kid computer man was saying while lighting up his screen to communicate with command .  I didn’t need to tell him. These were elite crew.  We’d trained together and I was fortunate.in those who joined me.  We had a diffeernt command structure.  Individuals joined the command structure but like old time militia could seek the leader of their choice on a first, second and thrid basis. Leader and recruti talked . If they fit, they were now in the traditional command structure. The democratic nature of militia didn’t include leaving whnecer.  The crops could wait.  

 

“Command, this is Helio, alpha, mike, come in.  Command, hello, alpha, mike?

Command here.

“We’ve been shot at by two aliens and returned fire killing them both.

‘Roger.  

Are there more.  

No.  

Picturs and viedo en route.

 

at that the whizz kid took over.

 

We would wait.  Already some of the team had taken up perimeter positiosns.  Our drone was in the sky circling already but it had not warned of the elien,.

 

Pete was still looking at the puddle and crap,  You’re not that interested in it.  

 

Looked just like me. Don’t know if that’s camouflage or real but the body looks dead which is what I like considering they’re response to mel

 

You’re sure you didn’t trigger them Captain.

 

No sarge I didn’t . Beyond bein in full armor and carying a ray gun.  They liftd those stick things and pointed at me and had I not ducked I’d be the puddle

 

Pete was still looking at the sticks ‘ Firesticks ‘ he said  looking at the burn mark beyond me.

 

“Helio, Alpha, Mike come in this is command.

‘Roger, Command, Helio, Alpha Mike.

 

“Proceed with caution.” 

 

 

Oh well, it’s fun to live i nthe fantasy world when naked sex dolls spring to life and talk like women on the View as a personel hell for men who just want to go fishing.  

 

The washig is done. No more leak of significance so I can head out and get a new magic key board and hopefully get the old one in for repair.  I’ve been usingthe mac book pro.

 

 Madigan will enjoy the car ride and I’ll try adn get a bigger bin and some listerine.  I should swim later.  Maybe pick up dinner on the way.  

 

I’m just getting by, muddling forward.  The one thing I wanted to do which was get the bank app working to download the missing spread sheet can’t be done till the work week when they open.  Tomorrow im in the clinic in the morning.  

 

Life goes on with cliches and attitude.  

Thank you God.  

 

 

 

New Apple I Pad

I am pleased with my new Apple iPad.  It’s business so a tax write off but I love my iPads so much that it’s my birthday present to myself.  I was leaving Laura’s on Friday and saw the new Apple location in Pacific Centre. I returned. Great store.  I said I wanted to trade up my ipad.  I always remember my friend saying that our parents got a new car and we get a new computer.  What I enjoyed was the ease of which they switched all I had from my old 3rd generation ipad to this new 4th generation ipad.  It’s faster but I love the greater and easier connectivity between apple devices.  

I worried that last time I couldn’t transfer Nova Scotia banking for a week and had to use two bank managers and 2 visits to the bank itself to get a new password.  It’s been like this every time I’ve needed a new password.  I’ve contacted Nova Scotia and told them that it’s such a problem I’m considering transferring my accounts to the other banks which have modern processes of password recovery.  When their own managers can’t do it it’s a problem. I actually had the password , last time I only had Face ID, but this time I had the old password and it wouldn’t work.  Now I’ve got work to do and I can’t do it again because of the Nova Scotia Bank luddite. Yet a part of me appreciates these

Security factors.  Wow its so secure the paranoid self says , I can’t even get into my account.

I’m having some difficulty with my Magic Keyboard.  It’s sticking so an excuse to take a trip to Apple Coquitlam.  Right now I’ve laundry going but concerned that there was some water leakage. I think it’s one of the hoses and wrapped it with a towel. I can’t see how I can fix it so will likely call Kelvin.  I did find my Harris tweed gloves .  I found the other keyboard but can’t seem to get it to work.  I didn’t mediate, exercise and pray today. I went straight to the coffee >. I’ve had a shower.  It’s already noon and the morning seems fairly lost, social media distraction. I did like using the new ipad.  

I’d best get moving walking the dog and taking out the garbage.  These routines are necessary and keep me sane. Like the general who says that polishing the boots reflects on the rest of thee performance.  A by gone era.  I’m just sluggish today.  I’m continuing to work.  The inflationary costs and increasing government waste and cost is weighing me down.  I’m concerned about day to day finances.  All the dues payments.  This month I should be out of the glue but there’s news of bank collapses and bankruptcy’s , more concern about the incompetency of snowboarder party boys with someone else’s credit cards.  

The keyboard spacing failed again so I picked up pad and used thumbs to type.

Great time yesterday with Laura in west end.

Friday evening after downtown

“What of your writing,” the publisher asked, a friend, not at all judgemental.  No money in the product yet. Questioning a passage shared over coffee. The horrible ‘would you read this bit?” Only done for a friend. They both wore tweed jackets and had been to universities where the women were still remembered.  Marriages and divorces had followed. They were older but there was still light in their eyes.

‘I don’t like it.’ Too self indulgence. Plagued by old resentments. War lost or won. But ancient none the less. I want to focus on the girl and the therapy but the therapist is loud like and elephant or giraffe on the set of Shakespeare. 

“Have you edited yourself?” He asked.  He’d ordered latte.  Said it reminded him of Paris. I was drinking americano with cream.  When I thought of Paris, I thought of her, the sky light and the moon.  We both remembered places by the women.  He talked of drinking cafe au lait’s on the West Bank discussing art of the ‘ordesay’ He’d once told me of that time.  His voice had been husky.  I guess my own changed timbre when I thought of her and moon and ginger tea.

“I write a draft. Everything is a draft. I spent years writing with the idea that there’d be an editor like D H Lawrence or Hemingway’s editor. I imagined the editor as the translator. They’d translate the Hunter S. Thomson gonzo journalism into something that would sell. Make Hallmark cards of yesterday’s Picasso.  Even I only like Vonnegut knowing that he shaved so much dross off the finished product. Was that him or his editor.  

“I liked your articles in the paper. You had an editor then, didn’t you?” He asked nibbling on the ginger bread cookie his friend had brought with the two coffees.  Slim wages for reading a page of writing.  He made more at the office. But here was different.  They were on the street. Street people and those who just passed through were there.  

‘I loved the editor.  Kindest most particular man I ever knew.  I sent him a handful of pages, drivel I’d written in a rage late some night about government and war , when it was becoming obviously they just made stuff up.  All of it Olympian.  The place agreed and the terms somehow manageable. I’d called it Desert Storm Arms Bazaar but was livid at my own stupidity. I thought it was before the UN and Roosevelt and the realization that there was as much money in rebuilding as tearing down. A wet war or a dry war and rarely an arctic war.  He was kind enough to send it back with a note. “I don’t think you want to publish this Bill”.  No doubt that man kept me out of jail.  I miss him.  

“Is he still alive?  

“I doubt it . He was 20 years older than me back then, wise in a C.S. Lewis kind of way but more a Somersert Maugham sort. Did you read Somerset Maughan?’

‘The doctor, like the Jurassic Park fellow. Never practiced but wrote the most amazing stories and plays.  Of Human Bondage, was his famous one but I liked most the one where they were on a ship going to India back in the days of London and Mombay before that Empire staggered and fell. And thank you for the ginger cookie . It was awfully good.” He said smiling and finishing the last bit.

“Yes , that’s him.  He was gay. I never knew.  Liked to cruise the docks for rough young seaman, “ I said 

“I never knew. Kind of like Byron in Greece.”

“Yes.  The thing is I never knew and thought there must be a tell. I was quite surprised when I later read some autobiographical bit written in old age.  Who knows really.  That was the attraction of the age of rationalism , the intellectuals, their writing was all fiction.  So completely alien to their own lives No obligations to be consistent. Not like the present .  I liked Paul Johnson book Intellectuals mostly for the gossip.  His companion piece the ‘Creators’ wasn’t at all juicy and sort of flopped by comparison. I was rather amuse d when it turned out he liked to be spanked by some long term mistress. It came out when he was getting some award for celebrating the family.  Sad really, like Lawrence Seven Pillars of of Wisdom.  Totally into S&M after coming back from Arabia.”  Standing, I reached for my blue wool long coat.

My friend pulled on his puffy winter jacket and zippered it up as we prepared to leave.

“I think I liked it better somewhat not knowing the authors.  I rather enjoyed a book written by a woman under a man’s name. Today she’d be all the rage but likely it would turn out she was a trans or something with a pet anaconda.”.

“It used to be alright for writers to be eccentric but not since the totalitarians.  The only eccentrics left are the visual artists and the classical violinist.  Everyone else has to fear for their lives with art.  That’s why I’d like an editor again. ‘

“Perhaps you could.  But what do I know. With self publishing I’m only a corporate as like fellow. It’s like the cookie cutter stars. The money men want a sure thing so it’s Ben Hur with robots and some black lady playing Ben this month and an Eskimo next month.  Publishing isn’t about finding the artist.  It’s lost it’s appeal like most everything else.  

‘We’re just getting older and jaded.  The fact is. I ‘m still happy writing. Imagine all the great works that are in the endless storage lockers in decaying cardboard boxes.’

They were on the street.  Night time. Traffic and jostling people. Staying close to be sure to hear each other.

“I love the archeological reports.  A bloke found frozen or stuck in the mud, the only one of his kind, not Brad Pitt or Nicole Kidman.  But as likely a Barney Miller.  The burials are better sources of the rich and beautiful but thousands of years later there’s little left. No trace of Jesus.  No trace of Mohammed.  Atilla the Hun gone but at least Ghengis Khan and his brothers slept with enough women they left a gene variation over most of Asia.’

“I don’t think our books will be for posterity. That Tar movie was good for that . Kate Blanchet was remarkable. But Bach compared to Chaucer remains intelligible.  I was reading Hebrew and saw that so much misinterpretation has occurred given the intrinsic nature of the language itself.  There once was no dictionary.’

“At least not Wikipedia.”

Yes, well here’s my car.  Keep writing old friend.  I wouldn’t worry about editing so much. Elon Musk will have some AI for that when we all move to Mars if we live so long.  

At that he climbed into his Black Range Rover  as I waved and carried on to my British racing car green Mini thank ful for the little rally car’s easy parking and mobility in the city.  

It was a good night.  Damned if the coffee wasn’t going to keep me awake. The dog would be glad to have me home if only for a chance to check his pee mail and leave his own replies on bushes and pavement.  Lucky mutt doesn’t even think about editors.  

Just for today.  Carpe diem.  The page is written and done.  The hand moves on.  She told me the moon tonight was called the Crow’s Moon.  It was almost as big as the moon in Paris.   

Day off Friday

I’ve just walked the dog. I’ve texted Laura and made to do list.  The To Do things require me to get in the car and drive somewhere. I’ve an online meeting at 1.  I didnt give admin enough time to book patients for today.  I’ve already gone through the backlog and house keeping. The day is essentially free.  A to do day.  The cleaning ladies were here last week. The place is looking pretty good. I can take another run to the storage locker. I’ve the clear bags to fill with old clothing from the storage locker to drop off for charity.

I’ve a desire for a small folding table for the living room, card table size. This is twice the size and half of it is used for books that should be put away.  Just a surface for more clutter.

‘I have anxiety,’ she said.  Dark hair, round innocent appearing eyes, they’d lifted for a second then returned to studying her hands on her lap. She wore a grey blouse and navy blue dress slacks.  She was plain in some ways but attractive in her minimalist way.  A touch of lipstick, not eye shadow.  

“Can you describe your anxiety?” I said. There’s hundreds of ways to response. Erick Erickson the psychiatrist father of American Therapeutic Hypnosis said the cup is one the fire but the handle isn’t on the cup but rather in your hand.  The point is to get the cup off the fire.  The correct response is indicated in the increasingly flow of information.  Alternatively ‘how long have you had anxiety’ would be a close ended question with the possibility of yes or no.  Describe though is an open ended word.  I once thought in these terms learning the trade and skills. Now it was intuitive.  

“It’s a dark hole. I wake up everyday afraid. I don’t know what it is. It’s a feeling I have like something bad is going to happen,  It never goes. It’s always there.  It’s sometimes so bad I don’t want to live. “ she was crying now wringing her hands.

I imagine one days writing books based on what I’ve seen and learned.

Now it was right to ask the question.  ‘When did this first begin. Can you remember a time you weren’t anxious.”  I preferred a pen and paper. But now I’d typed into the computer and wrote not for us, not for the patient and I, but for the parasites and money men, the lawyers and administrators who know noting about humans and anxiety but see everything in the reductionist world of money and power.  I want to be paid and left alone to heal so I kow tow.  There’s no privacy. No confidentiality. Any such thing said so stupidly by juniors is false. I’ve known so many threats and lost so much money defending patients and the space of therapy.  Older I regret the lost of prestige and power that I would have kept playing along and playing the game.  

She says,, “I don’t remember a time I wasn’t anxious.”  She stares at me now.  Eyes piercing.  Another life time the therapist would have been a pastor who at that moment would have reached for his cross.  She looks haunted but today as a psychoanalytic psychopharmacologies I am protected by different ideologies. I’ve a a tool box of solutions but I long ago learned that it’s not about tools but rather about timing.  

“Can you tell me more.”

“No body understands.”  Her voice has taken on the edge of fingernails on winter glass.

“Who have you spoken too about this.?”  

“Everyone.”  She says.  

I used to love letting a story unfold.  Gently peeling back the layers of the onion.  Teasing out the secrets and the deeper sense. I started in surgery and the process has always reminded me of cutting through the inflamed and damaged flesh to what lies beneath, a source of the abscess, the foreign object, the disease.  Now I’m expected to work for the government. Management offers euthanasia now. It’s just a job they tell me.  I’m to hurry.  The aim is to keep the factory moving along.  Don’t wait too long.  Everything is speed and turn over. There’s endless layers of management and lawyers and philosophers but the waiting room is full and there’s no more psychiatrists being trained.  The new man has a new drug and offers the new drug as the solution to all.  It’s panacea in a pill. The discussion is mostly about the pills and which one fits. I’m not even sure a pill is the answers.

‘Whose everyone?”  I ask.  

“Nobody believes me.” She says.

“What don’t they believe?” I ask.

“You know.”  She says looking at her hangs, her brow wrinkling, breath shallow

“ I don’t know.”  I answer.  Uncertain.  It would be so easy now to derail this pain and ask if she’s ever tried this pill or that pill, had this therapy or that. They came to my office and didn’t care how many suicidal people I’d seen who no longer were suicidal. They dfidn’t care all the mess I’d seen and how the patients were different today.  They didn’t acre about that. They complimented me on the fact that my notes were typed. They did want me to use a format developed for nurses because the management and their lawyers didn’t want to learn what doctors learned .They wanted us to communicate in the simplest least way so it could be discussed on television or in the newspaper. I had to dumb everything down to a level of the high school student. No one studied science.  I used to write for another doctor but now doctors have so little time for each other we’re all running about doing other peoples work.  A colleague said recently , they wonder why there’s a shortage of doctors but the mismanagement is so absurd they have CEO’s sweeping the parking lot with feathers.  We all laughed.

‘You must know.” She said

“Tell me.”  

“We’re all going to die.”  

“Yes,” I agreed.  

“It’s all meaningless.”  She leaned forward with her hands now resting on her knees and her head uplifted , eyes again staring straight into my soul.

“It can be but it doesn’t have to be.”  I silently thank Victor Frankl and all my teachers and the men and women who went before me. I knew it was meaningless . I’d read Ecclesiasiates. .I knew of the bonfire of varieties. I had even studied ‘Denial of Death’ the psychiatric classic .  But I also knew my smug rich colleague in the next building would already have diagnosed depression, most likely Bipolar II and be offering antidepressant medications and mood stabilizers and some anti anxieties and talking down to her as a parent explaining to a child , mansplaining or mothering her, and reassuring her and distracting her from the ‘long dark night of the soul’ and her epiphany,  I had watched so many phoenix rising. I’d given actual birth to so many babies, not from men, but from women, mother and child in that toughest of separations.  I knew the process.  I waited for her next move. I’d offer all the medications and treatments my colleague did eventually but I’d run late and my work would be messy and I’d type what she told me and review it later. 

I’d offer her choices and learn what she wanted and discuss neurotransmitters and conflicts and the desire to be loved and belong and be respected.  I’d mention Jung and Freud and wander about and somehow she’d tell me so much more, so very much more.  I’d use band aids of course.  We begin with band aids but I wanted to know so much more and was curious as to why she was there beyond assumptions. What did she hope for?  

She settled back in the chair , spent.

“Yes,”. I said.

And therapy began.

Burnaby Spring Day

I miscalculated my days off thinking the 9th was Wednesday.  Silly!  The consequence is I sat down for a day of work and the clinic had not booked anything.  I’d normally be pleased with time off but I’ve just returned from holiday.  At least I used the time to catch up on calls.

Laura had gone home early this morning so we were up at 6 am.  I had an extra hour in my day and walked Madigan along the river.  Laura and I had walked there yesterday and saw the heron. I think it’s the same one that has a next in the high in the trees behind us.   I also see  him fishing in the river or down by the green generator.

I’m not prepared to do anything so by default I look at social media.  I’m reading Silk Roads which is good but inevitably I take a peak at social media.  Right now it’s the same old same old ‘narratives’ 

1. The Vax versus Unvaxed . The heavy handed low browed behaviour of Trudeau and the WHO over reach.  Interestingly the authoritantian /totalitarian communist sorts didn’t have more success with regards to numbers as their more civil rights oriented neighbours.  I supported everything that was being done till Omnicron when it was obviously that masks and other measures were of little worth.

2. The origin of the virus as a lab leak and Dr. Fauci’s lies about this and gain of function research funding by him of the Wuhan Lab.  I’m had no doubt since the Feb. 2020 but it remains a ‘controversy’ but only in those making money. Interestingly the ‘emergency vaccine’ depended on their being no treatment , hence the explanation for the demonization of hydroxycholoroquine and the falsified data base.  

3 The Chinese influence on Trudeau’s election.  It’s nice that that’s exposed.  Trudeau is no PM just a criminal clown for the once good liberal party.  Nothing new given the Communist Chinese had troops here and police stations and CISIS said years ago that the CCP had infilitrtated Canada’s Government , Media and Education systems to the highest levels.  

4. Continued unfolding of the WEF agenda which is the same world take over as the Agenda 21 UN proposal.  It’s the same as the MAO cultural revolution and what the Russian escaped spy predicted.

5. Transgender pro nouns are huge in media though transgender account for less that .001 or .01%.  Meanwhile 70% of Canadians are associated with Christianity in some way and  72 churches were burnt down last year.  So the media has it’s fashion and unfashionable propaganda narratives.

6.  The Tucker exposure of the Jan. 6 tapes that were censored to supported the Democrat position that there was an “deadly insurrection’ and 5 officers killed .  I remember seeing an early clip with a fellow walking beside a wheel chair in front of the White House while the reporter was screaming ‘they’re vharging’.  At the same time Antifida and BLM orgies of riots were being allied ‘peaceful demonstration despite all the theft and destruction.  The Karma is that Walmart is pulling out all it’s stores from lawless Portland.

7. Defund the police Lori Lightfoot Chicago Mayor got the boot. She’s the one that lied about her safe Chicago while businesses are leaving and everyone voted against her and her ‘defund the police’. 

There’s not a lot of variety in the news.  

8 Ukraine continues but there’s little word these days on Communist China’s threat to Tai wan.  Putin is portrayed as evil when he just seems a little old fashioned. Of course there’s terrible death in Ukraine but there’s a insatiable military industrial complex and Ukraine is this weeks test grounds for all the military hardware being sold.  Syria wasn’t that interesting to the west but definitely was followed by east and Middle East and even Africa.  Canada sent 6 tanks.

It’s all rather similar with all manner of stories held up by politicians and in the courts.  The Epstein list is still censored .  So is the Winnipeg bio lab thefts by communist chinese researchers.

9. I loved seeing that Cain slew Able with a rock and God didn’t outlaw rocks.  The memes on FB and twitter are a source of delight and humor, especially satire.  

I really did enjoy Harrison Lake and the time off.

It’s such a lovely sunny blue sky day.  I’ve got the door open and have been outside a lot.  I love spring and summer. I love that the sun has returned.  

 

Harrison Hot Springs Resort - Leaving day

So sad to be leaving.  I paid the bill.  I was picking up coffee at Margarets Cafe after letting Madigan have his morning pee outside.  I’m in a daze.

 I was dreaming of myself wearing the navy pea jacket I had in my 20’s long before I even thought of being an offshore sailing captain. I was in a basement at a party with my professor friend going through old LP records.  The collection was so important when I was younger.  Laura and I’d watched a John Denver folk song performance on PBS last night.  He’d sung his song Leaving on a Jet Plane made famous by Peter Paul and Mary.  It was a wistful dream.  My professor friend had been concerned when I said , I didn’t care any more.  I’d discussed he lack of justice the night before.  I’ve been reading ‘silk roads’ a review of the civilizations and empires that rose and fell.  The culmination in the people of Ghengis Kahn devoted to cruelty and war after the success of Roman, then Persians , then Muslims.  So much of safety of Europe simply followed the reasoning there were easy richer pickings to the east and south.

I reflect on being a doctor and interested in survivalism and travel, a writer, and explorer. I’ve taken little pleasure in ‘winning’ yet today I’m sad looking back at the losses I experienceed with women who betrayed me and yet in their own eyes ‘won’.  I escaped before being devoured.  The last thing I was ever focussed on was accumulating wealth and power.  Other than the choices of partnerships I made solid decisions and yet I was always devoted to knowing God and the spiritual path.  I can’t have both neccssarily. I also was struck yesterday reading of another who wears the cloak of spirituality but had a priviliedged life of security and wealth.  I guess the dream triggered my sense of aging and time of life, Returning today to work and bills and my procrastination.  It’s been a joy and pleasure to be here.  I love being pain free in the pools’.  I’ve enjoyed the long walks by the lake with Madigan.  

A picture of Gilbert young reminded me of the decade we shared and all the fun in the woods, travelling and here..  Now Madigan is so much a part of life.  He loves Laura and she constantly slips him little treats.  

I’ve paid for the room on my Visa.  I paid it off last week and now will pay it off when I get paid in a couple of weeks.  When I get home I have to collect the bank material for taxes and later this week drop off my box to set in motion that process.  We’re hoping the camper will be ready soon.  The next break will be a weekend in the woods with the camper.  I expect Princeton or back here to the Glencoe campground.   The Desiree is to get off the grid but wifi and services keep us on the grid.  I’ll have the Starlink for future trips but not for weekends.  

Thank you God for this weekend. Thank you for Madigan and Laura. Help me in my work.  Watch over and protect and care for our families . Guide me in your way and help me with my healing

Thank you

Harrison Hotsprings

Laura and I walked through the town and around the Harrison Lagoon…. A sweet hike.  The sun was beaming down from blue sky.  The wind had died down and the lake was hardly rippled.  Still not many people out doing the trek.  Other dog walker and the older friends having conversations while briskly walking.  Madigan was smiling. He’s happiest when we are all three together walking.  We stopped and sat. He visited a couple of other dogs. It was a really easy day.

Back in town we had fish and chips at the burger place across from the public pool which seems open again. It was closed during Covid.  We returned to the Blue Dandelion Gift store where Laura brought her brother in law John a gift.  I bought her a little candle holder partly because she said she liked it and partly because I dropped it after I’d picked it up to look at it.  Laura was pleased.Madigan was jumping up and down pulling on his leash wanting to be noticed and join in the laughter of the group.  

Back at the room Laura donned her new bathing suit and headed down to the pools.  I was left to watch Madigan whose supposed to have supervision in the room. Laura ‘s been watching him while I’ve been going out several times a day for the healing dips.  She returned rejuvenated. Madigan was so excited.  

I’ve been reading Silk Roads about the trade routes and civilization between the far east and Europe.  The rise of the Muslim empire was interesting in taking up after the fall of the Rome and Persian empires under the inroads of the Huns and Vikings or Rusians.  White slave trade in the north and black slave trade in the south.  It was estimated that the Roman Empire needed  250,000 new slaves a year, the Persian more like 500,000 and the Arab Muslim Empire a million new slaves a year.  

The death of slavery followed the rise of industry and AI will reduce the need for workers. Rothschild’s interest in euthanasia along with Gates is as unsettling as Hitler’s and the Turks’. Trudeau and Morgentaller aborted most Christian and Catholics girls quoting the myth of overpopulation while Trudeau imports migrants claiming Canada needs more Muslim’s.  The Central Americans are moving north and like the European and Chinese migrations of my era these all seem to integrate. Communism and. Islam are perpetual war machines promising peace only when everyone is one or the other.  Even now we are in a hybrids war with Comunist China.  The world has always been at war.  Reading history is a series of lesssons in mostly bad governnnent greed and a ruthless competitor. The Huns were most amazing breeding and creating their society as a. Perpetual war and thief society.  Not a farmer or creator among them.  

As I am reading Silk Roads I’m leafing over to Twitter and Facebook taking breaks from the past into the present where Fauci is being exposed for his apparent corruption. He denied the Wuhan lab leak having contributed millions to gain of function research there.  So sleazy for a once great man. The incestuousness of the Liberal, Trudeau worst of a bad lot, and Democrats with Communist China is disheartening.  That Beijing bought the last Liberal election win is no surprise. I love that Elon Musk has exposed that the whole lot of ‘conspiracy theories’ were in fact not.  The joke is what’s the difference between a conspiracy theory now and truth, 6 month.

So it’s pretty laid back here I pray a lot. In between breaths I give thanks and ask God what he wants of me.  It’s a pretty good life this too brief vacation.  

Tonight I went for an evening dip after Laura returned, Most everyone was in their 70’s , the week end crowd much younger. I rather enjoyed the evidence of attitude and personality and character more apparent with the old geezerss whereas the young were lesss deep but body beautiful.  I do like the facial expressions of the old. What lives we have seen. How amazing we’ve survived.  

Thank You Jesus.