26 years

Another year has passed.  It’s been one day at a time.  Much has transpired in a positive way. I’ve carried on and contributed. I’ve served as usual.  This last month has been hard. It always is the anniversary of the time I left the gang who had seemed better for their poverty and dishonesty than the other gang, the lying white collar sociopaths.  

I just wanted to care for my dog and needed somewhere to sleep and I couldn’t sleep with a cocaine addicted wife who didn’t go to work but stayed up all night ‘partying’ while I tried to carry on.  I’d left and stayed in hotels to get sleep but facing waiting rooms to say again she wasn’t coming in.  I just couldn’t take it. I didn’t know how to carry on. 

I’ll never forget all the lying and the coast guard ship coming out of the sunrise right at us and me screaming, “You’d better not have brought any drugs with you because we’re about to be boarded and searched.”  I was screaming. She brought out the drugs and I put them in the head.

I drank and I smoked some dope but I didn’t do cocaine and saw too many people hurt by that.

“Didn’t you know she was called Hoover” her friend asked me.

“You’ve got to get her out of town. The dealers target rich women.’ My doctor said. She refused to see doctors and refused psychiatrists and therapists. 

She did’t go to the treatment centre but lied and lied and lied and I left.

Sexual role plays and all the dancing and the skiing and sailing had been fun till the refusal to get help and the failures and the others. Fun, fun and trouble, then trouble. The last couple of years whereas the early years were idyllic. The beginning was great despite meeting drink and stoned. There were so amany good times and she was amazing, accomplished fun early. 

It was a nightmare.  I was seeing a psychiatrist.  He was advising me and told me drinking some wine and smoking some dope wasn’t a problem. He was concerned about my wife and her cocaine. He told me to send her out of town for treatment.  She wasn’t able to function, absent, disoriented, erratic, drunk and stoned , dysfunctional, angry at home all the time, not sleeping, plotting revenge against other women, perceived slights. Drugs and alcohol were a problem but the cocaine was apthe problem. I confess I was lucky not to like it.

I was overwhelmed with the insaniety.   Iwas No RD Laing.  I had lawyers lying to me and thieves stealing money and I’d escaped several attempts at death like when drunk she drove the car at high speed into the wall or when she altered the radar so we were lifted off the bow beam of the tanker in the fog.

The lies were constant.  The lies and more lies and I just gave up.  I went to stay with the old hippy friends who ‘d had a grow op and we drank wine and made music but while we were away they’d got into cocaine too.  Thieiving psychopaths.  I worked on engines and enjoyed my days smoking more and staying at a distance , letting it all go, work and home and enjoying sleeping,  

She’d party all night and I’d go to work and it was awful.  I was Just awful. I said ‘I can help a hundred people or you. I can’t do both’ she just lied compulsively. Her drinking lawyer friend epitomized the old adage, lie,lie,lie, deny,deny,deny.

I really thought I could manage and that one day I decided okay I’ll stop drugs and alcohol completely. I’d been smoking two packs a day in that last month and trying to exchange marijuana shake for tobacco but was rolling drum and bud instead we drank beer and wine.

Today looking back on that last year is just insane. She’s doin all these drugs and I’m seeking help and she’s refusing and lying. The greatest irony not lost to the sober was they thought she was fine. Fucked inside Nice Exterior. My long term friends said I was lucky to be alive.  So I h betray lies an.  

A fellow Christian phoned and offered to help. I told him I wanted to leave and go back to church.  He picked me up and I stayed with him and returned to church and saw the Christian psychiatrist and the ‘reboot’ began. I hiked with my dog and I didn’t drink and didn’t smoke and I bicycled and that first month went by and I talked to Christian’s, the minister, Father John, and I cried in church. I cried whenever I was in church remembering my mother and my father and our home and the safety , the pews, and the children.  

Graham introduced me to Bernie and Bernie introduced me to AA.  I want to my first meeting. Bernie had a new truck.  She’d blown the head gasket on my truck and I’d been reduced to a bicycle.  I remember thinking maybe if I listen to this guy I’ll get a truck. That’s where my head was at. The guys I’d stayed with had taken the $30,000 I’d had in RRSP’s which had been taxed at 50% though I’d had no income and wouldn’t have for a year. Her lawyer , the white collar sociopaths who made the blue collar sociopaths look good,  took the $50,000 lying when she had me sign promising and promising and making meaning of the empty promises.

But I didn’t know then that I would set up scenarios so I would be the ‘victim’ and ‘poor me’ would be the modus opera di. I didn’t know about the reincarnation in Christianity before Nicaea or the reincarnation in jusagism and the Tibetan book of the dead and the players acting out the different roles of the theatre of life till we knew all sides,  IF the reds slayer thinks he slays and the slain thinks he’s slain they know not well the ways I keep and turn and toss again.  We are all one. Jesus taught do not be afraid.  Love God and Love your neighbour as yourself.

The famous psychiatrist asked what I wanted. I said, “I want her to stop doing drugs and alcohol and to go to AA.”  He said, “Women don’t go to AA’.”

I was demonized and slogged along witnessing miracles as I prayed and meditated and didn’t drink or do drugs trusting that they wouldn’t help. The world was an acid trip and the game was fixed and the players in the courts and government were just as insane as those in the asylums. It all seemed relevant,  

It was all insane.  I just did the next right thing and saw that they couldn’t help us.  The promise of children and marriage was dead and I had to accept that drugs and alcohol had killed that and looking back I’d seen the black sliver growing in those last years.  She wasn’t the problem . I liked her because I first met her smoking dope and drinking.  She’d not changed. She liked to party.  I was the one who felt further and further from God and no longer could make sense of what I was doing.

I loved Amazing Grace. I felt so bad that I wasn’t a good example.  We might have made the marriages last but the genetics of alcoholism in their families was too great and I was just too traumatized by plane crashes, being taken hostages, betrayals , death threats and near death and they had their share of these too. We we’re all wounded and sick and I was judging and afraid.  So was she but I couldn’t help them.  I had to help myself .  Number 1 life saving. They didn’t want to get clean and sober. They wanted to drink and drug and they did but I stopped.  Pride. I thought i was superior. An ego maniac with an inferiority complex.  

It was fun then fun and trouble and trouble.  It got really bad when I defended the indigenous people. It got really bad when the betrayals began. It got really bad when I trust drunks who were using me and using us.  It got really bad when I didn’t think of her and we were so selfish and self centered together. It got really bad .

Sometime in June of 1997 , in the weeks before June 25 I stopped smoking and drinking and turned my life over to god as I understood him..

I never knew her. I wish I’d known her off drugs and alcohol. She was a really great person and has so much .  We had so much fun for years and shared so much love but she and her mother refused to see psychiatrists and I was lied to an abused by the pscyhiatrists I saw till I turned to only psychihatrists who believed in God and law.  I don’t trust people who don’t believe in truth believe everything is of their own making, 

I remember when I lost peace of mind and when I regained it. 

I wish I’d been kinder to her. She could have killed me and nearly did so many times and was so destructive of life and crazy on drugs but she didn’t kill me. 

I made amends.  I have carried on. I’ve served and learned and been blessed beyond my wildest dreams . I hope and pray that she found what she was searching and got help. I did my time.

My colleague said, “If you’re not willing to do the time, don’t do the crime’. It was illegal to smoke marijuana then. I broke the law. He was head of psychiatry and he’d drunk and worked. I really admired him and thanked him for his pragmatism.  Dr. Bob had said ‘keep it simple’.  We don’t want to wreck this thing. That was yesterday and I have a psychotic representation of the past that tries to make me right and them wrong. It’s alcoholism.  If I’d not been with drunks and addicts the shit wouldn’t have happened If I’d not continue to drink past closing time those last couple of years might never have gone awry.  There were good times and the trick was to quit while a head.  The house always wins.  It’s demon drink.  I was lucky I escaped thanks to God, Jesus, AA, family, psychiatrists, doctors and good friends.  I have been blessed beyond. This anniversary of the crash of a life is hard,

In the following years I continue to work as a physician and psychiatrist for decades. I did subspecialization exams in Canada , the US and internationally in Addiction Medicine. I studied theology and obtained divinity training and a master in religious studies.  I worked and served with amazing godly sober people. I sailed solo to Hawai through hurricane. I became an accomplished rescue scuba diver. I’ve travelled to Israel, Ireland, Scotland, Italy, Azerbaijan,  Ethiopia, attended countless medical and psychiatric conferences and been the speaker and the participant.  I done my bit, serving as my teachers taught me.  I maintained  decades of a love affair, shot many moose as a big game hunter and became an accomplished motorcyclist riding 5000 km over a couple of weeks tenting on the way and attending Sturges. I had amazing friends. I was sober and there for the deaths of my parents and my brothers and the closest friends.  I ‘ve been sober for the deaths of two dogs and have a third as amazing companions.  I have been truly blessed. I”m forever grateful.  

Thank you God. Thank you Jesus.

Awake Sunday

I was up late last night.  I dressed in the new Reitman and drove to the 7-11 for drinks.  Partly that and the change that had me out at midnight experiencing the Burnaby late nights Much like childhood, no one about, most everything closed. Not like a small town but close to it.

Madigan glad I returned an hour later. He’s anoxious when I’m away.  We watched another episode of the Australian Animal Kingdom.  Sons of Anarchy with Skateboards. Criminals and gangs.  Very busy lives in pleasant settings.  Lots of drama.  

Meanwhile going out after 10 is drama for me and I remember when I stayed up all night going to parties. No thanks.  Aging makes a more leisurely life style attractive.

I’m affected by aging. It’s repetitive and boring to bring it up but it’s what I’m facing.  Along with death. So many my age telling me of another loss.  It’s like going to a new school. No old friends.  Re inventing oneself regularly.

Enjoy dog walks. Talking to guys about their retirement and/or being on disability.  I’m thankful for work. It’s the contrast that appeals. I like Friday being a special day and Monday less so.  Like seasons, rain and sun. I appreciate the sunny days here more than when there were all there was in Mexico.  

I am preparing for my snow bird experience , going south for winter months and continuing to work virtual.  I was helped by Starlink service as well as changing out the old router for a new. I don’t know that the new Router was what restored the internet. I wish there was a place I could have this router checked. I’m going to moving the Starlink satellite and pole to the Truck Camper and back.

My next event is my 26 year cake then the  IDAA conference.  Laura and I have booked a couple of weeks in the fall.  I need to book a place for glamping …hook up and such so while I’m off with Madigan on the ATV , Laura has the comfort and charm of the little house .  We’re planning the first break in Pemberton area because they have grouse and deer season open, the deer being any bucks , not the 4 point requirement in the rest of BC. It’s hard enough to find a buck I don’t want to have to wait for a 4 point. I didn’t like that about Cariboo hunting, having to measure the tines.  Grouse bow hunting weekend will be followed by rifle season so that’s the plan and I’ve booked in the ATV to be serviced before the fall. 

I’m thinking of a week virtual work by a lake while Laura is off baby sitting. I loved the au femme time at Osprey lake just sun bathing, cooking meals reading and swimming every day. Very self indulgent and self caring.  I had the Vespa then but will have the ATV.  I loved the north end of Harrison but the road was where I damage the Camper last time so I’m much more cautious of off road travel when I have such plans for the year with the camper. We lost it for repairs for almost two years. 

I pray to God and talk with God and feel God’s presence but not so much as I have at other times in life. I’m struggling with the stoicism debate and the epicurean debate and the lust versus gluttony or avarice debate.  The hierarchy of pleasure.  Certainly the sexual community seems to be what the LGBT is compared to the ‘married with children’ prudish or monogamous community.  When the function of marriage was child rearing for work and support and life expectancy was shorter this was a different proposition.  I’m foregoing the pleasure of alcohol and cigarettes but not sex.  Masturbation and fornication are loving as compared to those who would argue that the state needs to be involved to sanctify this. Clearly there’s merit in the AMish life and the various religious mainstreams have their merit They’ve lasted so long by working. I just don’t like their judgementalism and pride .  By contrast to women most ment I know feel ‘rationed’ by some and the obesity that reigns as much in women suggests that the gluttony in religious bodies is epidemic.  Yet this year there’s all the rage about ‘fat shaming’ but no similiar group going on about ‘lust shaming’.  

Given my experience with women lying and engaging in proxy violence I’m as loath to be around strange women in Canada, often any women ,and also children. The false accusations are as ubiquitous as the double standards applied to Trump. I feel safer among men.  I admire the mature women who didn’t vote for Trudeau and his victim consciousness. The whole legal judge industry has turned the country into a quagmire of social injustice masquerading as justice.  Doom zooming,  Anxiety and invasion of the body snatchers. 1984.  Everyone is guilty.  

I have only god to turn to and pray everyday.

This morning I didn’t meditate. I slept in.  Now I think I’ll nap,.  I am grateful .  It’s an especially fine day.  I”m challenged by the assembly project I started and stopped yesterday 

Thank you Jesus for this day.

Quiet Saturday

I’ve another vacation day. No real plans. 

Things I can do]

1. Assemble my inversion table

2. Continue to attempt to get my Arlo Security Camera to find the new Router Wi-Fi. One works and the other doesn’t and they didn’t return my call yesterday

3. Get the blue tooth to head set to work with the iPhone and new Harley so I can read the maps from the phone on the Harley face

4. Pick up mail.

What I will do is, shower and walk the dog

I imagine riding my motorcycle with the dog somewhere.  There are trails to explore and beaches to go to. I might swim here.  I could arrange a massage. That’s a real Cadillac problem. 

I could go to the storage locker and declutter.  So much that can be reduced, especially old clothing from slim days.  That’s the least appealing because its a sunny day and I don’t want to be in the dark. I want to be outside.

One of my joys in life is riding to Commercial Street or Davie street and sitting outside and having coffee and writing and people watching. Madigan likes both. There’s no equivalent place in Burnaby.  Too sterile yet.  Davie and Commercial are stocked with characters. I expect this is done in spring when they are stocking the lakes with trouts.  All sorts of fishy and unusual people on those streets.  Theatre people.  Full range of gender expression.  Ethnic groups,  Beautiful people and ugly people.  Rich and poor.  A reall cross section.  Robson is by contrast touristy and yuppie.  East Vancouver is dangerous. I do like 4th in Kits , probably the upscale students,  A lot of eye candy there.  Kits beach is definitely the place to watch the young. Bikini city.  But do I want any of that. Not really.

I’d like to ride my motorcycle and I’ve been building up Madigan’s patience.  I fear him forcing his way out of his harness or his box.  I loved that I could ride with Gilbert everywhere but even he young escape to sitting on top of his box twice both times hanging once from the ATV and another time from the back on the motorcycle . EAch time I was terrified,  He seemed surprised.  I expect his intention was to climb over me onto my lap.  Madigan by contrast seems to like being in the box so I’m slowly moving forward. I’d drive out to Chilliwack if I was more certain of his being ready.  He’s really settling down with me though when Laura is a bout all his obedience training goes and he’s unruly again. 

I must admit with covid and lockdowns he was undersocialized and further I’ve not had the aims for him to be primarily a hunting dog and therapy dog so I’ve not been doing the formal training and obedience classes et  I’ve done with previous dogs.  He’s too shy and irritable to be a therapy dog after his bad experience with the groomer.  He’s afraid of strangers especially insensitive intrussive sorts. Gilbert being around people was much friend ly and calming.  He was good with people in crisis.  I’m not sure about Madigan.  Though I may be comparing a young madigan with the older Gilbert.  We’ll see .  

He really is intrussive and I’ce not made ‘no’ a solid command so it’s my own fault he carries on a bit beyond. Right now he’s become slow to call in from his night pee as he thinks it’s sometimes an excuse to check out the yard and it’s a task specific event. He has these lapses. He’d stopped chewing blankets but after many months with that done he’s chewed another. I expect food falls on it.  He was totally house trained but when I was out he’d pee on the wastebasket in the bathroom. I expect that’s anxiety.  But it’s gone now. He’s a good dog. So much effort into training him and companionship eve though I’ve been fairly Laissez fair. I don’t know why these ‘relapses’ but we’re going forward .  

Thank you God for this day. Thank you for Madigan. Thank you for Laura. Thank you for my home. Watch over my family and keep them well.  Thank you for the summer weather, Tahnk you for the sun. Thank you for work. Thank you for freedom from pain. Thank you for the hot tub and swimming poool. Thank you for coffee. Thank you for the shower.  Thank you for this leisurely weekend such a change from my normal on the clock and constant demands, This is a a real break.  Thank you for my motorcycle. Thank you for technology even if it is frustrating, Thank you for Starlink and my progress to being able to take it with me on the Truck Camper into the off grid world. . Thank you.  Thank you for the black and white gang. Be with Emory in his old age and with his best friend in these trying times.  Thank you for your presence in our game of peek a boo.  Be present and may I be present today. thank you.

It’s a lovely day, I’ve the door open and there’s a slight breeze. Maybe a hot day. Yesterday the sun was out and it was perfect.  Time to move along

Thank you

Open day

I woke up today knowing it was a blank slate day. Now long work day. No routine. No agenda.  Just a day, like summer holidays as a kid.  A free weekend,

Normally I’m working and when I’m not working I’m doing lots of projects.

Today all I had vaguely planned was to re install my Starlink Router which I’ve done and it seems to have fixed the problem.

There are definitely things I could do.  There’s always the storage locker that needs reduction and sorting out.  

But I’m enjoying this day off without plans.  It’s like summer vacation as a kid , those days I usually ended up bicycling forever.  Now I’m enjoying blogging.

I don’t know what the blog or journal is today, whose reading it, what purpose it serves.  My own mental ‘selfie’. It was a bit original when I began and I really did want to challenge the idea of the ‘sane’ man.  I’ve found these ‘types’ to be deeply anxious with much posturing and tremendous fear based behaviour, conformity and business and limited insight with lots of tribal behaviour.

I am different socially.  I’m elite in terms of education and IQ. I’ve upper middle class.  More importantly to me now is that I’m older. There are less of us the older we survive.  The other major difference I experience is lack of children. I did twenty years of marriage and paid the price that usually begets men children for their old age. Instead I had a woman abort my child and I had no choice. So here I am alone in a way that my friends who are parents and grand parents are not. It’s a major differences. I have all my life belonged and supported family based services like the church and school and government. I’ve contributed so much in taxes I’m like the person who is taxed extensively but doesn’t have a car or house.  So much of taxes have gone for children and parents and I’ve just paid beyond my fair share.  I don’t really like the kids I mostly encounter on the streets in passing, children whose education, health care, parents have all been subsidized by my taxes..

I take offence at being called prividledged as I’ve worked since I was a teen and often had several jobs. I don’t get tax brakes. I don’t have the incredible pensions that government and union workers have. I’m like so many in that regard. I’m part of the collective destruction of the middle class and the taxation for third world financing of the criminal elites by our criminal political class in ottawa. 

I’m aware of my differences. We reduce our ‘uniqueness’ and individuality to be apart of ‘institutions’ and groups.  In my AA association they mock the ‘terminally unique’ but I appreciate that in regards to disease like kidney disorders and diabetes, but then I’m in this group and as usual am different as we each are in our individual ways.  

I look for my tribe. I wonder where I fit it,

A day like today is a bit like retirement might look more like.

I have a dog so he defines my life with walks and meals and exclusion from so many stores, restaurants and activities.  

I ‘fit’ in my academic groups and even in the later theological studies but I took offence as the university commercializations and marketting and decline of meritocracy.  The granting of medical degrees to students who failed and got lawyers to contest it was a first crack, as well as the financial slavery of so many for education loans, then when I did the post graduate degrees and they were bic lighters , with validity only for 5 or 10 years, obviously to hit on the education prone again.  A monetary evil crept into the university administration with the process of certification and recertification without any really validity to the need.  I became cynical especially as I saw that ‘who you knew’ was increasingly more important than what you knew as the international degree programs were marketed for 3 years as opposed to 4 years but supposedly equivalent and nurses were being groomed to be cheap and replace doctors. It was all unsettling and undermined my idealism. On line degrees and equivalences and letters after names.  I remember wanting to be able to marry at sea and the process of that ‘certification’.  

I have to date specialist certification in family medicine, psychiatry, and addiction medicine with a number of special certifications, psychoanalytic psychotherapy, hypnosis, group therapy, family therapy, motivation therapy, CBT, psychopharmacology, Pain, opiate treatments, medical review officer, assistant professor, clinical lecturer, medical author, and remote doctor, american and Canadian licensing, wilderness medicine and psychiatry…….then the religious studies and writing and history interest and other academic pursuits and board membership ….and aboriginal indigenous association, ….then the professional dancer, and ship’s captain off shore solo sailor, …then motorcyclist and cyclists, and big game hunter and survivalist ……now motorhome and RV guy.

I feel no longer apart of the heterosexual baby producing tribes dominated by women and the men supporting them. I was so attacked by that set and unprotected by the worm when their group members lied and made false allegations. They were radical feminists weaponized by the communist leaning authorities and men were not safe even in the church ,  Women believed the lies like the women in authority who said ‘women don’t lie about sex’.  There wasn’t any progress just a new exchange of bullies.  Revolution and not inclusions.  So I didn’t feel safe after that

I felt part of the LBGQ tribe because it didn’t trust the government and seemed to be enlightened to abuse of power and forces of censorship.  I found myself comfortable and among people who had been abused, who were bisexual or had experiences outside the rote…..I cross dressed and didn’t see the relative evil in a Klinger dress compared to the lying and cheating and bullying and abuse going on by the avaricious and power seeking sorts.   I feel that my sexual self is welcome in this community whereas in so many other tribes and communities one is faulted even for comment, or looking ,or a joke.  It’s a mine field and it was once blamed on the old ladies or as my friend said the old ladies of both sexes but now I see that lust is judged by those who are most unrepentant of their pride or gluttony or one of the other sins like envy and avarice.  

I mostly feel alone and often feel safest in the woods and away from people. I liked when my friend now dead told me I needed to beware of stupid people in groups.

I like people with a sense of humor and the folk who now claim inclusivity are the most easily offended.

I have these ideas and look back on the free ranging discussions we had at university when it was a place of learning opposed to the propaganda focus of today.  

Today I feel mob violence rules and is encouraged by the people who forcefully collected taxes and demand perfection from people like me. Thugs in position of power virtue signalling and wanting us to applaud to kazoo playing and Jew’s harp symphony.  I miss listening to Yehudi Menuhin and Ravi Shankar or James Taylor and Fleetwood Mack. 

I’m old to most. I don’t like much of today’s culture and miss the days we were hippies and the days of travel not for selfies but to learn culture and connect with others   Now I’ve been at so many conferences with the education elite of the world and enjoyed so many lectures and presentations .  

Today I’ve the gift of time and think I’ll have another cup of coffee and be grateful for an incredible life of adventure, Adventure is certainly what describes it.  I’m very thankful. I’m very grateful.  Now what next?

Waves Coffeshop, New Westminster

Waves expanded their outdoor seating, presumably with Covid. It’s a delightful setting sitting under the deciduous trees.  The old Trap Block building is a touch of eye candy like the Bank of Nova Scotia.  Building made in a day when architects and economics cared for the outward appearances, before the era of Stalin architecture and box mentality.  I remember learning that architecture was the art of the people because everyone shared, Now the buildings are lacking and the interior designer serves the bottom line masters.  Utilitarianism has it ‘ s merit but I do enjoy looking up at the pretty facade if the Westminster building as opposed. New Westminster has characters old buildings speak to a time of greater grandeur with the newer buildings functionary.  No Trump Tower here. I loved visiting Trump tower and appreciating the architects knew old adage.  The tower gave to the city and was a feast for the eyes.  The selfish palace king had art in his inner chambers that only he could enjoy.  The Rafael wall paintings in the Vatican , only seen by a chosen few before the modern error of tourism let us see what the peasants were denied They had their cathedrals and architecture.

I enjoy my motorcycle and iMax and Ipads.  Technology and vehicles.  Sparrows have joined me at this table an added delight.  Increasingly the wild animals come into the city and live among us. Always the birds but more and more the coyotes, raccoons and now the bears.  

I love that New Westmiinister is awakening. It was dying for a bit with the drug dealers and junkies.  The stores selling bridal gowns and tuxedos celebrating hope and future was juxtaposed with the Thanatos of fentanyl addicted street people.  It’s early now and I expect the death cult who prefer the night have not risen yet. The vampires come out later.  I’m glad to be a dawn person connecting with the tens of thousands of human life that today’s civilization built upon. The early bird got the worm.  Marx was claimed to turn Hegel on it’s head.  Everywhere communism reigns society devolves into corruption and tyranny. The Godless rule like a criminal gang and survive only by theivery and fear, 

A truly well dressed beautiful young Asian woman has appeared on the street. She is wearing a long grey wool sweater and carrying a dangling cream Gucci bag.  Her Asian friend wears a tshirt over a shirt that declares Empathy on the hem.  They had stopped to consult their phones and now have entered Waves. The interior is inviting. I’d be there except I have a canine companion who prefers the street with it’s myriad of scents.  It’s chilly with the wind off the near by river harbour. I’m glad I wore my black wind breaker.

I’ve an open day. I saw Dr. Ready the chiropracter who has this last year helped me immensely.  I can only think this last year of lumbar pain was begun by my slipping in the rain at the crest of Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh. I can only think the message was that I needed to have more self care.  I’ve felt vulnerable with aging and am losing interest in the physical activities that were the centre of my life. I no longer am that interested in hunting and the thought of hauling big game out of the bush has no appeal.  I’m also becoming more sentimental and expect estrogen of age is not just encouraging my passivity but expect it’s renewing my love of reading. I have reached out to the tai chi assocation and wish to renew membership.  That’s the speed I’m more inclined to. I miss my sailing at time but gave a way my scuba gear because it was just too much work . I might yet get a snorkel as I enjoyed swimming without the gear like my spear fishing days in the Sea of Cortez.

I want a new skirt. I find my kilt his heavy but I like wearing short skirts like cavemen of old. It’s the Scottish games today and I’d be there but believe that dogs aren’t welcome. I have to improved my Starlink reception, my task today. Apparently my new router is en route but I have the flag pole buddy I could set up and see if that stops the frequent disruptions in service.  I miss a call up tech who could ‘fix’ this problem.  I enjoy working from home and the virtual works well except when glyches like this arrive. I enjoyed visiting the clinic and appreciated the socialization. I’ve missed church with all the camping we’ve been doing so have good intentions for tomorrow. I’ve no interest in virtual church though a priest friend has sent me the link for her church in Nova Scotia.  I can feel isolated and alone.

It’s June, the cake month and I’m aware that the anniversary day is a mixture of grief and rebirth.  It’s always unsettling then it passes. I’m so glad I’m booked for the IDAA conference as seeing friends of decade who share in celebration is so renewing.  

I had to use a meter which required change and I only had 55 minutes so much leave hoping I’ve not overrun. There’s a dog store across the street and I wanted to get the little guy  more wet food. I loaded up on it but ti’s all in the Truck Camper and he’s not been impressed with what I’ve put out for him. He’s picking and like his Tikki dog food and to date hasn’t accepted any of the other brands of wet food. He prefers participating in my barbecued meals. I’ve chicken marinaded in oil and lemon.  Peter told me he reads recipes daily so I’m giving this marinade a try.  I confess I’d not used much oil in my past marinades so it will be interest. You can’t go wrong with lemon and chicken.  

Well, thank you God for this day. Thank you for the morning meeting and the chiropracter. Thank you for New Westminster.  Thank you for today.  

Black and White Gang

Emory is a black and white canine elder.  He’s nearly 17 and has the facial hair of an ancient Asian master or a Latino Bandito. He has Schzu in his long and celebrated heritage.  He is truly the leader of the black a white gang.  Madigan met him and thinks the world of his older friend who like hm rides in a box on the back of their master’s Harley’s. The belle of the gang though is Bella, the cutest sweetest white and grey Javanese with a joyous piping back more reminiscent of an exotic bird call than a canine bark.  Her sister is younger black Lucia also Havanese.  She’s shy and often hides back while Bella greets the boys. Madigan loves her and breaks leash running a hundred yards full out to greet her and she flops over on her back to celebrate the occasion.  Emory walks with a statesman like elegance but seeing Luca and Bella with efforts puts a little extra bounce in his stop and increases his forward momentum a smidgeon.  

The black and white came to be as their masters walked about the community where Doberman’s and German Shepherds also lived. Whenever greeted though the group explained to neighbours and owners of Rottweilers that the Black and White Gang were the new ‘security force’ protecting and watching over the neighbourhood.  The other dogs were more loners who might be called in as snipers and Navy Seal reinforcements but the bobbies on the streets were the black and white gang.  Together they were a sight to behold as their walks became animated and they piddled and pissed with the confidence of belonging and being a part of something bigger than they were. 

Their masters of course decided the fate of the world in far reaching discussions.  The dogs nudged each other and gathered for a particular message left on a branch. There were heads nodding and extra sniffing and all the while the masters ambled along confident that all evil and wrong was being dispelled by the presence of the dogs, more like Tibetan monks than Rambos but somehow able to keep the bad at bay.  Sometimes once but often twice they did their rounds and flew the tail flags declaring their presence.  

The gang met with other little dogs and there was a great conference when the groups grew to as many as 6 or 8 and the volume rose and the masters and mistresses laughed and shared recipes and chat. All was well when the black and white gang patrolled.  

 It was believed that Lucha, the shy girl was the one who first found the dead body by the river. 

‘Whatever is that smell,” she asked Bella who simply wrinkled her nose and couldn’t say. Madigan knew no more but Emory who’d been napping as he walked for a bit lifted up his ancient nose and cocking his head remember, “That’s a dead human smell.”  

Like a wave or a flock of birds they all veered towards the scent pulling their surprised and scent blind masters behind them the short distance to the river where yes indeed there was a dead human.

That’s how Madigan met the police dog, Ranger.  A very handsome majestic creature who told stories of his time with the Canadian Forces in Iraq to Bella who told him about her time on the beaches off San Diego.  Lucha shyly congratulate Emory on his superior nose and Emory always the gentleman took her praise graciously as all then officious men in suits with guns and matching cars busied out while the neighbours snapped pictures with the iPhone cameras.  It was quite the festival especially when the media showed up.  A girl looking just like Lois Lane got it right according to Bella. She propositionsed the masters for a group picture which was the one that appeared on the front page and went off to be seen by millions in social media all because Bella was thought to be so photogenic and Emory looked so distinguished.  That was the first time the Black and White Gang had their photos taken.  The paperazzi came later when they solved the case of the Climate Change Arsonist.  

No one ever did find how the body had ended up by the river.  Obviously shot through the back of the head. All sorts of speculation about corrupt politicians and Communist Chinese hit man but in the end another cold case without further leads.  Not that the Black and White Gang forgot.  There were always clues and clues in the markings that would one day link the two cases but for now the dogs were more interested in supper time after all that excitement.  While their masters discussed world affairs and international crimes they discussed the merits of liver versus chicken treats.  Of course. 

Journal

It’s a cloudy day with a bit of rain spit after 2 glorious sunny days. I’ve arrived home from camping with Laura and Madigan.  Now I’m happy for the break.  The work day begins in an hour though I’ve continued to pick up pieces on the weekend.  My phone is problematic with a cracked glass and my emails going into general rather than specific boxes.  I wasn’t getting them on the weekend, something with wifi and my iPhone.  This weekend’s test.

Meeting tonight. Enjoyed my Monday on line meeting.

Today I’m still recovering from time off.

The lady’s are coming.  

I haven’t exercised or seriously meditated.  I made Laura and I coffee. Now I’ve showered and shaved.

No plans for more camping for a few weeks. Next cake, then IDAA in Tucson.  

Thank you for the colours, Lord, for the air, for creation, for this day. Thank you Lord . May I know you more clearly and serve you more truly. Thank you Lord.

Harrison Lake

I dreamed I was on the ridge above the peninsula where my sailboat is anchored in the harbour. We were in trucks and several of us were hunting.  I’d seen moose and elk and believe I could have shot one but chose not to. Someone had shot a deer that was somehow boxed and I didn’t like that, seeing the animal contained that way by that weapon,  I was old fashioned and woke irritated by my back ache and the work demands.

I have to move out today,. To do so means packing up and putting away hoses, electrical and sewage,  Mostly I’m thinking of unloading the camper at storage . To make the space I have to pull out the trailer first, then back in the truck and unload the camper remember to clean out the fridge. 

When I get back to the city I have a half dozen calls to respond to from patients and lawyers. They began yesterday.  I’m grieving the end of holidays but with the pool closed yesterday I was disappointed.  I’ve done all I set out to do and am looking forward to my cake and the IDAA conference.  The threat persists.  

I pray.  I play peak a boo with Jesus.  

I’ve enjoyed reading of Bertie and Mathew and Pat and Big Lou ….all the characters of Edinburg novels by McCall Smith.  They are so light hearted compared to the heavy Peter Rimmer Asian novels of men and women involved in business competition and sex.  

My experiment in the blog was an exercise in transparency, to lay out the truth and confusion of the emotional and rational internal process.  I liked the early writing of the analysts. I liked free association. I liked the early Irish writers.  I wanted a journal of autobiography but along with the outer landscape of a went to b and was looking at c, that travel report, I wanted the inner journey. The evidence of the effort taken to rise above depression and anxiety.  The gratitude lists, the challenges, the prayers. I wanted this here to be seen. I wanted other weary travellers to see me ‘truckin’, ‘keeping on trucking’.  It wasn’t all easy and I struggle against despair and catastrophising.  I am now working through character defects and see that sloth and envy rear their heads

I saw this exercise as maintaining a skill of communication that would one day be apply to the task of story telling. I’m amazed at how prolific McCall Smith is and admire his light hearted stories.  I’m too heavy I believe.  Fundamentally in the very depth of me seeing ‘struggle’ and prone to depression and anxiety after more than30 years of hearing the worst.  Now I’m still too internal, not seeing that which is around me, not focussing like Adam on naming that which is in the garden.  

I don’t feel as driven to write of imaginary friends and plots and events.  I was content yesterday to eat pizza and read.  I’ve three places that I’ve completed which could serve me as places to live, my yacht, my fifth wheel 40 foot trailer and this truck camper.  I’ve achieved these goals and continue to wait, procrastinate, fine tune.  I was moved by Steinbeck’s Travels with Charlie.  Madigan is asleep right now at the foot of the bed where Laura is sleeping. She got up and now has gone back to bed.  I’m calming down. I woke rather excitable from that hunt with many hunters about.  There was pressure.  Now I’m up and there is none here but in my mind , yes. 

I feel better with coffee.  Now I’ll read and in a bit begin the process of departure.  It’s been a good vacation of rest and relations, of exercise and good sleep.  I’ve been very active and will become more so.  I’m looking forward to a chiropracter visit and resolving the technical difficulties with Starlink and with my IPhone.  For a couple of days I wasn’t getting emails and find that the face is cracked so imagine the two may be related. I’m getting emails again and should make a back up of pictures given thousands are on the various iPads.  The cloud is filled to and with the cloud and storage lockers the past is expensive.  

Thank you God for this day. May I serve you and do the next right things.  

Early Morning, Harrison Lake

I awoke positive, good dreams, good sleep, rested. I only realized that it was only 5 am when I checked the time coming out of the washroom.  Madigan was actually sleepy.  Laura was sleeping in, a blond tousle of crazy hair on her pillow.  I only had to add shorts and Teva Sandals and put a leash on my sleepy dog

A brisk walk around the lagoon is what the morning called for . Mist rising off the snow capped mountains.  Shades of blues flowing into each other from the grey blue sky to the turquoise lake.  An eagle was chased away from a tree top nest by two black birds.  A v of eagles honked overhead.  What a glorious morning! 

I was thankful to be walking and breathing.  Harrison’s is a tourist paradise. I think of those I know who have come to live here permanently to take the waters and heal from work injuries.  

Yesterday I had a lot of exercise. I assembled the folding electric bicycle and did a turn of the park, picking up the bacon egg sandwiches from Suzy’s for our breakfast.  I walked Madigan twice around the lagoon. I assembled the Body Glove Inflatable Paddle board twice, once with electric pump and the second with hand pump. I was tuckered by the time I’d hand pumped the board.  Taking off the hose and closing the valve lost too much air. My back was already aching.  I stood on the board with it stabilized with one end on the beach.  Laura was primed with the camera, I made it one or two board lengths out into the lagoon until the movement and my unsteadiness on my feat and gravity all brought me to my knees on the board.  It was then I remembered that I had difficult standing up from a solid surface like the ground There was no assistance. I actually thought a walker would help me up. It was like that last time tenting when in the morning I crawled out of the tent and wanted to call in helicopter to help me get upright.  

I paddled about sitting on the board.  Back at the beach I tried one more time before I was again on my knees clinging to the board, thankful the water was calm and there was little more than a breeze.  My back was weak and sore.  Proof of concept. Yes that’s what this was,  Enough for today.  

After that I had a good swim enjoying the cold water though I’d taken a mouthful wondering what algae and goose poop germs I’d ingested.

It was exercise. Deflating and carrying the paddle board home I was definitely read for the healing minerals waters of the public pool. I’d so enjoyed them the day before.  But no the pool was closed with apologies.  The hours are only 10 to 3.  Today I’ll enjoy relief.

“So who do you think you’ll give the paddle board to now,” said a very astute Laura. I have a history of buying floatable items and passing them along to friends who get great joy and pleasure out of them.  Kayaks, pontoon boats, dinghies.  Along with that various electric bicycles.  I give them away.  Other’s would sell them but I have no desire to have strangers come to my place when I can as easily give friends the results of my experiment.  A wiser man like my brother would have borrowed or rented a paddle board and learne that he couldn’t stand up on water any easier than he could stand up on land saving himself hundreds of dollars, I’ve not given up. It’s now a storage locker thing and thankfully it reduces nicely so that likely for years I’ll struggle with the nonsense, I do need the exercise 

I read another Peter Zimmer, completing the Asian series, with a lot of horny Englishmen chasing equally randy young women in London, Rhodesia, Sarawak, New York and Hong Kong. A peculiar episode of Mad Men. The series began before the war and ended with the adult children after the war. The satirical comments of the older generation were enjoyable while everyone drank way too much and smoked cigars as somehow the business of insurance and empires carried on. Interesting comments about communism and capitalism and the euroasian.

I’m now reading a continuation of McCall Smith’s 44 Scotland, thoroughly enjoying Bertie and Dominica and Pat.  He is such a prolific writer with such uplifting comments and insightful takes on life that I’m both inspired as a writer and deflated before such genius. A modern day Somerset Maugham and Mark Twain.  Of course I think I should be writing telling stories and not distracted by the antics of the ‘something rotten in the state of Denmark.’

Our Dumb and Dumber PM and the head of the NDP continue to spend money overseas where there is zero accountability , even less so than on our northern reserves and all manner of creative economics occurs.  Meanwhile CSIS has been saying for several years that the communist Chinese have infiltrated the government, media and education to the highest level. An honorable politician which these thugs and goons aren’t would have stepped down now that it’s out that the Communist Chinee, today’s equivalent of the Nazis essential bought the last election for the Liberals and threatened conservative MP’s.  Not only does the idiot savant narcissist not step down or open a public enquiry he gets his family friend to say he’s a good boy while his silly partner in crime backs his play. 

I”m naturally critical and post on social media my fear of the growing dictatorship in Canada and the destruction of democracy by this tyranny who lie continuously about a climate change ‘emergency’ which is little more than another concern of the industrialization.  Thankfully Musk is like Columbus expanding our scope and anyone who ever read Buckminster Fuller of the geodesic dome as a kid would know that this snowboard druggies don’t know squat about science.  I worry naturally like John the Baptist that my questioning the federal government so vociferously will have me beheaded so the emperor want a be can get into some other child’s pants.

It’s all too bizarre,

Now I believe in the power of attraction and a loving god so theoretically should focus on the good rather than the fear mongering of media. I’m brought down by all this when I really ought to be focussing on the advances in battery cells and energy production, the miniaturization of AI and all the extraordinary advances such as the drone flying cars that are light years now beyond the ultralights.  

I’m pleased with my air conditioner and little house, this truck camper on wheels. We used the air conditioning yesterday and enjoyed our capacity to control this little bit of atmosphere.  Meanwhile Bill Gates and the likes are playing with the earth atmosphere with a grandiosity and recklessness that seem to follow that egomaniac,  Naturally I don’t trust him not to shit in his and our meals like Trudeau who is another not potty trained metaphorically.  Meanwhile all the wonders of the world are funneled into the military’s industrial complex which rules of the world, the wars created and decided by the ‘security council’ of the dictators club call the UN>. The WEF and WHO are another couple of 

Rotten global agencies, once part of the British empire but now taken over by those whose countries haven’t even known the Magna Carta, French Revolution, American Revolution or the 60’s.  All of these are trying to turn the world back to the 50’s wanting the materialism and free sex of yesterday. The music died and they don’t seem to know it. 

I’m lost and confused.  I don’t cling to the past but know it so see it repeating itself.  Perhaps why I enjoy historical fiction like the novels I read.  

It’s 7 am. My alarm sounded.  A song praising God to start my day which is now already hours forward.  

I hand ground Ethiopian coffee beans I roasted myself. Cooked in a stove top expresso machine I have had delicious brew topped with cream and honey.  Now I’m yawning and tired and could go back to sleep to enjoy the warmth and blessing of lying beside Laura whose tousled blond head I can just see about the folds of blankets.  

Napping is under rated. I could have a nap right now and put off writing the great Canadian novel for another day.  I was wanting to read a Neuro  chemistry text I purchased last year and have been reading a chapter at a time,  Fascinating but slow going.  I much prefer the fast reads broken up with attention grab bing sex and violence. I likely would read more physics and math if they’d have orgies between the bits of trigonometry to spice up the dull.  Looking back I don’t think anything could have helped statitistics.  Yet I use statistics more these days than ever before.  Without that heavy slow year of statistics I’d not have know how deceptive CBC and CNN were through out the Covid crisis.  Yet knowing the leadership is lying and their friends are scoundrels does little to hearten one. I feel like it’s 1939 at times then gain hope and carry on, I must try paddle boarding but not today

This weekend we’re leaving the camper in storage because it will be weeks before I can head out.  Work has been put aside a bit to recoup. I’d become so despondent with the overwhelming threats and bludgeoning of mismanagement that I wanted to hide again.  Now I’m invigorated again by nature.  I really must exercise more and have balance and not let the crazies get to me. My patients are fine but it’s management with their ever increasing demands, theft and criticism and expectation of perfection from others,  So sad each day hearing so many struggling while the party animals in power waste and profit,  Hypocricy is Canada’s growth industry.

Easy to criticize.  My back aches and physician heal thyself is at core. Take the timber out of your own eye before trying to take the mote out of your neighbour’s Judge not less thee be judged. I know all this and yet I slide.  It’s hard to walk upright dragging knuckles. 

Thank you Jesus. Help me lift up my head and mind.  Guide me today and always .  Thank you.  Harrison Lake is a blessing and here I am in heaven and paradise.  Thank you! Thank you God!!!

High school reunion happened this weekend. I paid to go before covid and contributed my support but didn’t actually make it thinking maybe the next. I’ve an IDAA conference to go to in July so feel like I’m slowly winding up.  I knew I needed time camping and that the stress in my life with the recent vicious low life attack is not going to be helped by visiting old friends, most of who are retired while I still work. I read of their lives on face bock and they mostly have children and grandchildren while I’m alone and go to work because I don’t know better. I seem in limbo too.  In Death’s waiting room. So many close to me have died. I feel like becoming a recluse to handle the grief and face my own denial and fear of death. I don’t take enough time for God and have a puppy who needs me.  I am doing baby steps. I confess the idea of retiring here to a routine of taking the waters andd walking about the lagoon with the dog is appealing. I’d garden vegetables and raise chickens. Yet on another day I like the hustle and bustle of the city enjoying my motorcycle and paying for the addition of a air conditioner to this little house.  My life is good and I’d not want anything else though I don’t know what to expect days or weeks or months ahead. I’m okay for the year but don’t know beyond that.  I think of my sailboat and often long to be sailing again but everything seems to need reduction. My world is smaller and my body struggles with decreasing strength and power. The sore back is a reminder like the unreliable dick. I ‘m fine then I’m not. I don’t feel dependable.  All my body parts have moments of crankiness like the dog.  He’s grumpy now when I want him to get out of my seat.  I worry about him.  Attitude. All the attitude about me and no respect. I can’t recall ever having ‘respect’ but like a lot of promises it has gone.  I am blessed though to day by the wonder of the air I’m breathing.  It’s so delicious.  The weather is a find too,  When I was up at 5 it was so quiet and now the town has come alive and people sounds are coming on line.  I love the colours, the flowers and trees, the bird song.  Thank you God. Thank you Jesus!

Glencoe RV, Harrison Hotsprings

Laura is sleeping. She’s beautiful with her head down on her pillow, the curly blond hair a tumble.  I’m blessed to know her.  The nutbar dog, Madigan, began whining at 7 am.  7 am is when my alarm normally goes off during work week though I often wake earlier

It’s a grey and dreary rainy day here at Harrison.  I took Madigan out for a pee. Shorts and a t shirt. Wet roads.  Flip flops. I’ve of an age when my Calvin Klein under wear, shorts, will pass inspection from a distance.  The advantage of aging.  I’ve got less concern about my dress and others share my lack of concern.

I haves flashes of earlier age. It’s like a present with reverberations of earlier me, of cares and concerns that no longer track. I love being in bed with Laura. She’s so beautiful.  But also when folk talk about a person as home rather than a place.

This mobile home is a Gypsy caravan with the girl and the dog. I’m having stove top expresso and enjoying it.

My first quick glance at the news was positive, the Johnston of the Trudeau family stepped down from his silliest buggery ‘rapporter’ position, a Trudeau nonsense attempting to cover up the election violations that had the Liberals ‘stealing’ the election from the conservatives with Beijing money and threats.  Trudeau is a traitor. The Dictatorship of the WEF is on us.  In the south the lies of Jan 6, are out , showing the White House guards opening doors and walking the worst of the supposed worst about the White House , dozens of armed guards and unarmed ‘domestic terrorists’.  The FBI are coming out more and more corrupt.  Media lies of the kind Stalin and Mao were famous for. Now Biden stands up there with Castro.  Here in Canada we learn that Trudeau was complicit in the greatest election fraud of Canada’s history. Mass immigration to turn a first world country into a third world country. The image of the Canadian PM paying a known terrorist who killed and American medic 10 million dollars is followed a RCMP horses trampling an old lady in a freedom rally.  ‘Freedom’s just another world for nothing less to loose!” 

“Everything and everyone can be bought in third world country’s’” she said.  Where is the unbuyable Nader when we need him.

So that’s the political rabbit hole. War and rumours of war.  Somewhere out there in social media/media world but here there’s the patter of rain on the room and a veritable goddess sleeping in the bed with a dog curled up beneat the table by my feat.  This is real. That’s not. This is here and now. This is. 

The air smells so fresh here.  The Hotsprings Pool opens at 10 am. I see that Laura has turned over. From here I can just see her elbow moving.  I think she’s reading here iPhone. She connects with her sister, daughter and neice each morning, checking in on her family, happy theyr’e well, entertained by their endeavours. Her personal soap opera.   I’ll make her a coffee.  She really deserves to be cared for.  I try.  Madigan worships her then tries to hump her shoulder.   I’m glad in the camper, he can’t get up into this bed with us. He’s a real nutbar.  

I didn’t dream of work. I was dreaming of work last week. I went through the nightmares of the weekend of the college, a terrible return of all the PTSD hysteria and catastrophising, remembering feeling utterly helplessness held hostage, then the utterly abusive judge who worked for the criminal, then the lying crack smoking psychopath who rallied the college and other government agencies to her side while her biker loser boyfriend threatened my life, and the crazy cow in authority saying ‘women don’t lie about sex’, the man threatening my life and the callous police doing nothing, nothing, nothing, the guy who threatened me and my dog with his off leash pit bull and no consequences.  My dog was blind at the time, slowly dying of an enlarging heart and injured back, hardly able to walk.  

I’m increasingly deaf from the medication I took for a year for the TB I acquired flying into Indian Reserves back when I worked for the University and Indian Affairs when it was called Indians affairs.  Indigenous is the preferred term this week, aboriginal out of fashion.  I’m now Irish and Scottish Canadian and I liked it better when I was just Canadian. But Singh and Trudeau are doing the fringe politics that made Hitler famous. The SS were dominated by pedophiles too. Epstein list remains protected damming all in Washington by association.  Mel Gibson has a documentary coming which shall be incredible since he was a whistle blower on Hollywood.  Pedophilia is a disease.  The complicity of courts is to include post pubescent sex offenders in this group. Sex with the prepubescent children is against nature. Sex with teens is merely against the law.  The grandiosity of godless men would argue other wise.  The pride of judges and beurocrats and government .Doctors are humbled by nature. The greatest sadness of our days is that arts students aren’t required to study biology.  These are ludicrous times.  In some future of the multiverse children will read with horror of the insaniety of our age, so little different from the religion of the cargo cults.  We are such a silly lot. 

I’m as likely to wear unisex clothing, a sarong from sailing days and earrings but have no interest in children.  The communist state is against family and I love family, miss my own as the old died . I’m an elder in this branch and still feel seventeen.  I get no respect.  The very thought makes me old. 

Normally I wake and get out of bed to pray and meditate But here I have gone straight to coffee.  Walking Madigan around the lagoon I like to sit looking at the lake and mountains and give thanks to God. Sitting in the hot pool and hot tubs I recite prayers to myself. Our father,  Hail Mary.  All shall be well.   Lying on lawn chairs I pray and meditate.  Not working I like to pray. Working it’s often prayers for guidance and protection. Not working gratitude and thanks.  I try to pray unceasingly and hope one day I will.

I took her coffee and caught of glimpse of her beautiful face poking out of the mess of hair as she reached out for the cup, the black strap of her lingerie , the extended bare arm and sculptured hand. She reminded me yesterday we met in our 40’s . I think of her as a teen as I think of myself, a couple of high school lovers.  She’s a grandmother and I don’t see it. I feel older only because my back aches since I slipped in the rain climbing Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh last year.  In my mind I’m little more than layers of thoughts on the little boy who hid behind my mother’s skirts when approached by strangers.  Now my back hurts and I find it harder to stand up from getting down on the floor. I feel vulnerable.  Twisting hurts and I love the hotsprings.  I imagine that weightlessness in the space station would be as appealing.  

“He ain’t heavy, he’s my broteher.!”  I do find myself reflecting on my teen years, 20’s and thirties.

Just the other day I thought of our late night discussions about ‘changing the system’ from within or without. It was the Vietnam War era and we were concerned about the military industrial complex and arms dealers and war maker. I argued for changing the system from within.  Other’s argued for ‘opting out’. Now looking at Trudeau and Singh it’s never been so bad.  As teens and 20’s we were hippies or weekend hippies, mostly interested in sex and dance and being free. The wood stock marijuana was like beer. We drank wine too.  We were so active the effects were muted.   We talked about social revolution , nudity, music.  The music of the day was the source of philosophy and theology.  I was reading the Bible,Bhagadvagita, Buddha, Lao Tze, Torah, and Koran.  They were heady days.  A couple of friends of the late night discussions went off to Africa as missionaries, another became a Rosicrucian.  We spent time in Toronto with the Thosophical Society.  My first wife  was reading Neitzhe and fashion magazines.  We were dancing and appearing on tv. I was writing poetry and wanted to be a screen write. Bicycling across Europe , playing chess and meeting so many others our age from so many different lands we were like the Moveable Feast.  

Today I miss the easy sensuality but ironically love being with Laura whose presence is revolutionary like the love of  a naughty nun.  We laugh together and I remember the hippy era as laughter. The pomposity and pretentiousness was there but no so prominent as it is today.  We were together against the man.  Joan Baez said we were all climbing the mountain but couldn’t see each other because the few at the top had shit machines to pour shit down.  That was when we were ‘anti war’. Before we knew that the ‘Peace Movement’ was naive and funded as much by us as by them. 

Putin as KGB talks of his good times infiltrating the hippies to encourage their anti war movement against their government - the fifth column war. Today it’s part of the hybrid war of the communist chinese.  Trudeau is the traitor from this perspective.  The Modern day Chamberlain. 

We were so idealistic and only later I learned that the anti war movement was the enemy’s movement. Freedom needed to come first.  Freedom of speech and anti scensorship first. Later I’d learn realism and study rhetoric and logic and science and psychopaths and sociopaths.  I’d meet people who would just as soon kill you as play golf with you.  I was safe and middle class back then. I later worked with soldiers and will ever recalls the sergeant who told me that ‘we’re like the sheep dogs, we protect the sheep from the wolves.’   We were sheep then.  I faced the wolves and after loved the sheep dogs.  So many silly academic I met were so deluded they didn’t know they were sheep. So many middle class were so fat and soft they voted Trudeau and Singh and entertained such silly ideas as defund the police. I remember the silliness of unilateral disarmament from those teen years when we were so young we’d not met Jeffry Daimlers in our midst.  We externalizer our fears and hates.  We’d not studied Jung.  Just as individuals develop socially and emotionally as Erickson taught so do groups of people. Today more and more people are here who escaped their countries which are still in the pre Magna cart, pre French and American Revolution. They’re prone to dictatorship. They’re socially immature and yet look like others adults .  But they ba like sheep.  The Wallace’s of their countries were genetically removed and they never had a Bruce.  They want license and believe in revolutions and don’t know that feeedom comes with accountability.  Their world is paranoid and ‘us and them’. They don’t know that ‘Eichman is within.” 

I am older now. I know God is All.  Without the manure there’d be no roses.  I’m a great admirer of parents who know the difficulty of raising children and teaching adolescents so have little faith in Trudeau maturing.  He and his adolescent gang are flying boys and girls.  Laura doesn’t get upset like I do.  She tells me stories of her children knowing it all and I remember when I was that age and my father wasn’t nearly as wise in my eyes as he turned out to be.

The courts and parliament are a binary, like non binary and binary are a binary.  It’s a cluster fuck and crap shoot and gamble.  In medicine we see the whole.  We know the complexity of how the head bone is connected to the toe bone. We study health and disease.  It’s been an amazing life of study and learning. I am truly blessed.  Not only have I learned of others but of myself. I still am learning and I’m trying more and more to be more kind.  Love your enemy, Jesus taught. Do not be afraid. I look back and my greatest regret is that I didn’t show my mother more love.  I was a good son by standards but so entitled and inconsiderate.  She was always there and I was so intellectual so narcissistic, such a genus.  I wished I’d just hugged her more.  My father was the genius. He lead and managed a hundred and fifty men at one time.  I wished I’d listened more.  My brother did. He was the good boy and I felt the alien, so caught up in the things I saw in microscopes and telescopes that I didn’t see what was in front of my face.  Face. Face . Face.  Location. Location. Location.

Thank you Jesus 

I love Harrison Hot Springs. Laura and I have been coming yearly often several times for a quarter century and before that I came and even brought my parents here for one of our best visits as adults. My friend told me of the mafia meeting here when he was a messenger  for them. The Canadian Christian Medical and Dental Society had their meeting here where I so enjoyed the company of Willie and Anita Gutowski.  It’s a holy healing place.  Sacred.  Here I am today blessed. Hallelujah.  

Recovery and flashbacks. Playing Hide and Seek with Jesus.

Only last week I was in despair struggling with my mind to stay in the present. An assault backed up by evil institutional abuse of power and toxic waste, had waylaid me in an other wise okay life.

I always ask God what is the message.  I was the fool in the tarot deck, relaxing, trusting and the message was again, ‘beware’.  This world is ruled by corrupt military and business regimes, those who frequent Epstein services, those who are driven by pride, pretentious and low brow.  

Jesus said do not be afraid and I can face charging bear and hurricanes at sea but stupid men in groups with power haunt me.  False allegations and lies haunt me.  Faced with this again I buckled. 

It’s flashbacks starting with being strapped in school by the principle and caned in school by the teacher. It’s the abuse at university when I corrected the professors for being wrong.  Their ‘face’ more important than truth.  

It was like a deluge and I was back decades ago with a judge who was wrong and costs a life and the criminal who supported him and the damsel in distress.  The obscenity of that whole time and the lies and money and me simply doing the next right thing only to be attacked by the ignorant and spiteful then to be vindicated a year later.  Vindication should be my middle name. I have won in time and yet don’t want to be in the battle.  I don’t want to fight any more. But here again I was false accused by the entitled and demanding who mount wars.

A weekend lost to nightmares, panic attack and agoraphobia and plans to quit and leave and fleeting thoughts of those ancient thoughts of suicide, no plans, just asking God is it worth it, can we just stop, start over, or go to bliss. I was in a divorce at the time and the ‘authorities’ were using her sickness to get back at us for stepping out of line.

I managed a week.  It got better each day, rest, talking to friends, consulting mentors and authorities, resisting the panic, talking back to the terror, meditating and praying and getting over the emotional hangover that followed the orgy of self pity.  A mere day or two lost like a bout of diarrhea when the bowels couldn’t digest the shit from above.  I was mostly removed in a few days then a weekend travelling away off the grid and being with forest and nature.  It was so healing. I feel for the incarcerated, without the space to touch God who is so close in nature. I’ve spent so much time in churches in prayers and didn’t do that this time but instead camped by a river and thought of Buddha and Jesus and prayed for the protection of St. Patrick and the guidances of all saints.

I realized it was June, the anniversary of my abstinence from alcohol and marijuana and tobacco.  I’m coming up to 26 years and the decision to be abstinent was a tough decision in a tough time.  I experienced what AA describes as my life being unmanageable. I had married a kindred spirit with addiction who didn’t want the party to stop and I could related  because I was attracted to women with active addictions.  Brilliant beautiful party girls who were individually amazing, so much fun drunk, but so depressed when sober.  Now I took the escape, rather than leave medicine, my past, and all those wheels within wheels I left alcohol and tobacco.  I”d tried to quit smoking tobacco and smoked marijuana only to smoke tobacco again when I was drinking.  So quit them all.  I’d gone back to the church and prayer because I couldn’t protect her from herself and from hurting me. Like many an abused person living with the mentally ill I was hit when she was hitting herself . I was the punching bag.   I really thought I could love enough but I learned I didn’t love myself and loving others required that.  I set out on the road of recovery alone, a journey that so often is alone with God.  I had no idea how much abstienece would change my life.  Always one seeking God and spirituality, a Christian, and an intellectual, I’d read the spiritual texts, been with monks and gurus and returned to the party with booze. Now I was letting go of the booze.  I had only asked that she would too but she didn’t and chose what I called her lies,so afraid, so wounded and abused before me. I was selfish then. I had to get out alive and that meant leaving. 

So many were so kind and the truth was there in the groups of spiritual men and women who said that it would get better and it did. It’s that time of the year. An anniversary of the 

Death of the old man, the snake shedding it’s skin, the old ceremonies. It was a hard year and now it’s a good life.  Jails, institutions and death were the alternative at that time.  Even the psychiatrists I’d seen were lying and serving the authorities till I left the institution and went with those with God.  I ‘d not realized that I was really among materialists who masqueeraded as not until I was blessed to be among Christians like my parents and had that sense of coming home.  So many people from my home town surrounded me with their love. People said, we’d love you till you can love yourself.

I am loved.  I followed suggestions and I continued forward with kindness.  All the promises came true remarkably quickly.  Now I’m continuing on and that blip was the reminded, the flash back to being scapegoated, to be lied to and lied about when all I was trying to do what simple and good.  

I am now blessed beyond my wildest dreams, loved and love, with a modicum of peace and an immense tool box to get me through just such a terrifying time, A nodal point.  All the past challenges and times and people now here in this time.  So many deaths, all my sponsors, and most so many of my most trusted mentors.my mother and father and my brother. The death of my brother hit me so hard.  He was the good one and I was the black sheep. He was serious, the man of money  and I was the poet, the chemist, the psychological and theological.  He invested and I just lost everything trusting the feminine repeatedly.  Alone I’d be ordered then again and again I’d dance with the devil and chaos and somehow get washed up on the shore till 26 years ago and I stopped booze and no more hang overs in all the various disguises.  

I’m so thankful for this life, for the companions, for the friends for the colleagues. I’m so thankful for Jesus and for the godly. I’m so thankful for the inner world and meditation and prayer and church and AA and nature and calm and quiet and the sense of belonging and being with God , feeling god, experiencing the interconnected, the glue.  

Thank you God.  I was lost but now I’m found.  Playing hide and seek with Jesus.  

Roger’s Creek, Duffy Lake Road, Truck Camper

The river is high and raging. I woke at 5 am near dawn.  When I couldn’t sleep in I climbed out of bed.  Madigan was overjoyed to see me. He’ s not welcome up on the Camper bed and can ‘t get up himself. Wagging squirming cockapoo body greeting his long departed master.  The dog begins.

We walked along the trail by the river. I was a little concerned reading of dogs who fell in and got washed down stream.  The river is so wild I feared for Madigan but he’s not a fan of water in general and stayed well clear. He even pointed back to the camper to let me know this wild world was a bit frightening to him. Couldn’t we go back to civilization and safety.

All the other camper in tents, rv’s, truck camper and that new on the roof tent with ladder up, were quiet and presumably sleeping.  I only had my cell phone though there is no service and Madigan’s leash.  It’s definitely black bear and grizzly beard country.  I’ve a rifle in the camper.  Wouldn’t do much good out here. No wonder Madigan thought it was a bad idea.  I put the leash on him and we walked back along the road.  He’s happy to be inside for a while. I’m waiting for the stove top expresso to be ready.  

I’d like to continue on to Lillouette, maybe glamping in a full service site.  

Kelvin brought the camper back Thursday night having fixed the happy jacks and installed a new AC.  He also did some maintenance and soldered the short that had the back up camera dead. It was a god send camping last night backing into a narrow spot between the picnic table and spruce tree.

Laura and I are going to Glencoe for the long weekend coming up,  That will be full service glamping.  Take out restaurant meals in town. 

This has been off grid. No electricity.  I’ve noticed the lights browning out too which concerns me. Is my inverter charging the batteries while I’m driving. The lights are bright but dim when I turn on the water pump. With only 1 light on it seems to cycles a bit too.  As one who catastrophising I was concerned in the wee hours that my truck battery would be depleted.  Normally I carry a generator when back woods camping but I’d not intended going off the grid and I am here where it would just be embarrassing at most to ask for a jump. I have the cables.  

I’ve no cellular or internet.  I’ve lots of propane and water and holding tanks. Normally I’m good for several days in the camper.  

Yesterday I left at 11 am  and drove up the sea to sky highway . The views of mountain and ocean were inspiring.  We’d just driven this way when we stayed the weekend at Whistler RV.  I’d see the Mountain Woman still was running. They’d tried to shut her down with the new construction but the town rallied and she carried on. While I waited for Madigan and my burger I looked at her scrap book of pictures going back to the 80’s when she opened. I first stopped her in the late 80’s.   She was such a gorgeous young girl back then.  Now is still beautiful, aging like Helen Mirren. We’re all aging.  She chopped up Madigan’s burger and added a little cheese to it.  Just that little touch of love that made her cafe famous followed by the ‘we’re all in this together smile.”.  What a wonderful stop!  

Madigan and I ate look back on the Britannia Beach mine and the ocean pier, I anchored my sailboat out there once.  Another time Producer/Director Bill Corcoran was making a movie series in the town about a minister and priest and the small town carrying ons.  I took my mom and dad to see  as I was taking on this same circle route I’m taking this weekend, the Pemberton, Duffy Lake Road, Lillouete. Mom loved that the whole town was a movie set.  Dad, always the mechanical engineer was most impressed with the cranes used for elevating the camera for shooting the film.  It was a good time with Bill being his truly gracious self . That whole trip with Mom and Dad was one of the best times we were together as a adults.  

Passing through Whistler was a bit of memory lane too. I used to drive up here every other weekend in the winter for almost a decade downhill skiing Blackhomb and Whistler.  Now for 25 years I’ve only been a couple of times. I just lost interested in down hill though I continued cross country skiing with Dr. Lam at Cypress where I continued to snow shoe a bit till now it’s been decades since I was up in the mountains in winter. I continued to hike and hunt of course but even that was stopped by Covid.  Driving the truck and camper up this way is a bit like reclaiming lost skills.  I most remember the times I motorcycled this route .

Passing Pemberton I remember my first time up hunting here and staying in a bare room about the loud bar before heading out in the early morning to the back country.  Now the town is a yuppie play ground with lots of places catering to the young and healthy adventurous college crowds. I was tempted to drive into town and get some of the world famous potatoes.  It would have been nice to stop in at the western store or say hello to the great guys in the family run hunting fishing store. I was on a mission though and continued to Mount Currie passing all the great memories of horse back riding with Wayne Andrew’s, the world champion native bronchi rider.  

At Duffy Lake I really did try to swim. Swimming is good for the back and I’ve been encouraged by those who insist swimming in cold water helped their back pain. My lumbar spine has been aggravated since the latest trauma, slipping on the rainy Arthur’s Seat hike in Edinburgh last year.  Chiropracter and exercises recommended by Dr. Antonio us, Dr. Waterson and Dr. Horvath. They’re my amazing colleagues and working with them I’ve asked their advise.  Minos was the first who did an X-ray and thought it was okay which Dr. Waterson said was ‘pretty good’ for a guy my age.  The old fracture and the traumatic arthritis.  Months later I asked Dr. Horvath despite continuous improvement. He gave me the Foundation exercises which have really helped along with my change in the seating positioning on my new motorcycle.  Of course I hoped for a magic cure in the freezing cold waters of glacier Duffy Lake.  But ‘swim’ isn’t quite the word for walking into knee depth doing a shallow dive and a few strokes only long enough for the full catastrophic impact  experience of the ice bath to hit. I did an amazingly speedy turn and took off back to shore with speed that almost had me lifting off the water like a duck.  Enough.  I didn’t feel by body till I was back in the truck towelling off.  

After that I drove on to here, Roger’s Creek. I’m thankful there was a wilderness campsite managed by the local native tribe,  Great place. $15 for the night.  I was up from the river which was raging so I didn’t mind losing some idyllic wonder for safety.  I really enjoyed having the Happy Jacks working and once the camper was settled I could boil some potatoes and barbecue steaks for Madigan and I.  

Before bed I took him for a walk through the camp ground letting him roam off leash as no one was about , a few sitting by campfires but most having gone to bed early. Madigan doesn’t get a lot of off leash time in the city. He’s like me that way. This weekend is a god send after the stress of work . I finished the day with a cup of Lemon Ginger tea and McCall Smith’s Expresso book in the Scotland series.  Just a delight! Finishing the book I fell asleep and didn’t have nightmares. It was just peace and fine dreams. I’m truly blessed and grateful.  

Thank you Jesus.!