Douglas Fir, Scotch Pine, Hemlock, Glacier scented breeze

The sun has risen over the ice capped peaks that ring the forest wilderness below Whistler RV Park.  I had mixed dreams. Belonging and comforting as well as conflict and trouble. Laura’s warm body lay beside me. Madigan slept beneath the camper table. I awoke at 6 am, checking my Iwatch know the time. Madigan today hadn’t woken us with whines and whimpers to be let up on the bed. I woke him. 

I drank a lot of tea yesterday.  I liked the morning ritual.  Relief. Then brushing teeth and shaving.

Yesterday was summer hot. The forecast today was for even hotter. The morning breeze though was still cool. 

I donned khaki shorts , Workwear brown shirt and took Madigan for a morning walk.  A man with two while dogs, not poodles. was doing the same. Robins and nuthatches were flitting about.  A group of three people were also up quietly walking along the road..  I hoped the exercise would reduce the energy the little dog has all day.  At the truck camper I sat in the lawn chair facing the still rising sun and meditated.

I do not know for certain anything before today.  Before this moment is a true unknown. I only have circumstantial evidence.  Memory. There’s billions of computing brain cells and equal numbers of stars.  Tomorrow is uncertain. There is now.  I exist. This exists.  I am a co creator with the creator.  I imagine a divine plan.  There is angst. So many fill the ‘waiting for Godot’ moments with endless nonsense. There is this.  Here .  Now.  Matter is slow energy.  I’m humbled by the very arbitrariness of existence and the limits of knowledge.  

Yesterday I spoke with a lovely man comforted by his agreement with authorities.There are those who cling to rhetoric while I am like Buddha asking what do we really know. All suffering is desire.  I am here on a mountain top enjoying the sun rising, while indeed science tells me the earth is setting. We are confused about the fundamental motion of our experience.  Here I’m feeling I am going forward when indeed the earth is going backward.  

I don’t know why my mind produces the thoughts it does. I thought of genital mutilation of male and female children and wondered how that trauma contributed to the wars of the tribes that perpetrated such barbarism.  It is taboo to even consider such a thought. So many thoughts are taboo.  Steal a little and they put you in jail, steal alot and they make you king. Some ‘ruler’, a ‘big man’, “his supportive woman’, the ‘boy’ and the followers demand ‘tradition’.  They only woke today yet still they will be planning on surgically risking the future potential of a child.  The fallacy of the consensus.  Meanwhile other tribes are sticking needles in their bodies and painting their faces with dye.  They are all offended if we don’t respect their customs and play along with their games and our games of who is first. 

My friend was fascinated by the intellectualism that allowed him to believe he was right and someone else is wrong.  

I’m here alone with God in an RV park utterly grateful for the civilization of this experience with the freedom and means to come and go, all the amenities and engineering wonders I could hope for. Even this chair is genius.  I am now sitting at a table that drops into a bed.  The chair I sat on outside folded up small and light and carried on the back of my camper. Just because I don’t know who created lawn chairs doesn’t mean that I believe they didn’t evolve or that I somehow manufacturered them out of my mind.

Today is all about pride, individually and collectively.  The selfie is the metaphor and medium of modern existence.  Space men landing on a distant planet trade mirrors with the inhabitants who have telepathy but lack this capacity to freeze memories.  We live in the past. Moments fly by.

It’s all play. Even the soldiers and generals who strut and take themselves so seriously along with the gangster and the con men and politicians who orchestrate chaos and war must deny death because if we all woke again knowingly in another day and another line of development we’d be free from the grandiosity and arrogance of the hierarchal sorts. Those that gives themselves medals and ribbons and titles. 

I like the symphony but I don’t like the shit thrown at a wall and called art so that money can be laundered and rich men and women can have more children to sexually pleasure them.  Why must we think that those who are at the top of the society are not disease ridden and bothered by hemorrhoids.  I am indoctrinated to look up to them because they have the power to kill me and my family and friends.   Yet if I am immortal not in this comic strip but across the potentiality of the infinite universe, why fear bullies and boogeymen.

I carry in the code of my memory the ability to start this truck. I’ve just made coffee . My unconscious is attached to the Cray computer of God. Each day I awake and don’t even know what dimension my dream world is.  I am ridiculed by ignorant who insist that as they can’t see the ‘ICloud” it doesn’t exist. I am then told what are the ‘social media’  ‘ideas’ each day, the marketting of social reality, the dominance of competing tribes and the corporations and the old and new money. 

 I’m old.  I don’t feel old. I’m as new as the day.  I only feel old when I really consider it and look at the weather worn skin.  I then realize that I’m among stupid people or bright people or mirro kaleidoscopes of my own self.  

Today I choose to believe in God. I choose to be humble. I choose to give thanks to the Sun and the movement of the earth and the perfect construction of this world which is so similiar to the one I knew yesterday yet different.  I am thankful for a higher power, a sense of a creator and the interconnected ness of creation. The alphabet of DNA. The joy I had learning the basis of chemistry and the complexity and simplicity of the material world, a sentence and a paragraph and a story.  

I look back on my life and it’s a story I’ve written with ink and feathered pen. It’s amazing.  God is good. Life is wonder.  This is sacred.  Thank you Jesus.  

Laura has climbed out of bed, relieved herself in the truck camper washroom, fuzzed over Madigan whose love for her is overwhelming. I held her warm voluptuous body next to mine and felt home.  She is so pretty now doing cross word puzzles.  I made us stove top expresso coffee and she is content as I am .  Madigan the cockapoo is even napping under the table dreaming of climbing on Laura’s lap again and being pampered.   I’m thinking another coffee.   Has Elon Musk brought us a little closer to inhabiting Mars? Thank you Jesus.