Good Morning, God

I’m up.  I’ve showered. I’ve had a cup of coffee and a yogurt and a glass of orange juice. I ‘ve checked out facebook and it really is a circus out there. At least Jennifer Lawrence was entertaining with her looking into the PAC, political slush funding.  Joe Walsh sounded great on guitar.  I see friends are in Puerto Vallarta.

I message good morning to Laura. She messaged back she was in the bath.  She’s coming over to drive my car to Chilliwack. I’m driving the truck. The car will be stored there while I’m headed south. We ‘ll come back in the truck.  I’m bringing the camper back next week and the following week storing the fifth wheel RV and preparing to live and work from the camper in the coming weeks.  

It’s an adventure and expedition in a way.  That’s my perception yet so many are doing it.  Obviously not as many as are sitting in their living rooms reading magazines or watching tv.  I’ve travelled in so many ways but this is new.  Crossing the border with a self contained road vehicle home having already travelled with my liveaboard offshore sailing vessel.

I ask God what he wants from me. My work is useful. I’m contributing to my community. I’m on call for friends and family. Some might say I’m ‘pillar’ of the community today, certainly not of steel or stone but maybe made of wood.  I’m evidence.

I feel in a certain way I’m waiting in Heaven’s waiting room.  So many I’ve been close to have died in the last few years, my brother and two best friends, and good friends. There were sponsors and mentors who died too.  Dr. Phillip Ney had what sounds like it may have been a CVA.  88 years old. I thought he was 80 .  Then Bill Gyles passed. Vivian went before that .

My dad said all his friends had died.  He was in his 90’s when we talked about that.  You and your brother are all that are left.

I wonder about friendships. I have a steady flow through AA and Church and Work.

These days though I’m in the midst of gender dysphoria.  It went with a book called ‘black like me’ and a white man explored the life of a black man in the southern US>. Viva la Differenece. I’m really affected most by my lumbar thoracic spine. The instability of the lumbar spine and surprise episodes of excruciating pain when I move differently or twist or sneeze.  It’s made all I associate with ‘masculinity’ unreliable.  I’m becoming an invalided old man in my mind.  I assoviated men with ‘doing’and women with ‘being. I’d rather be an old lady than an old man at this point.  I could as easily dress as a clown or a cheetah and get the reactions.  Personally at home I’m comfortable in a sarong or shift. I loved living in the tropics in t shirt and shorts.  So I find novelty and interest in this direction.  There’s a line that goes back years certainly tied to the abuse and anti male attacks by female psychopaths supported by the authorities.  I identify with Turing and the State.  The State is quite evil now. Steal a little and they put you in jail. Steal a lot and they make you king.  The Importation of scab labour of so many who have live ‘pre Magna Carta’, pre French Revolution,  Pre American Revolution, pre Sexual Revolutions, pre Civil Rights movement. We’re regressing with the chauvinist pig leader to a bastardization of Canada. I try to help the depressed and anxious but so many would simply not be that if it were not for the government mis management, lying media and government and the increasingly cost of living.  I’m doing okay but all around me others struggle.  I don’t want to think about the future. Trudeau hates the elderly becaus only pretty silly girls would vote for him. I figure if you van’s beat that mind set, then join it. Be a silly girl. 

The wise mothers are something else.

But then I was attacked by psychopathic female lawyer who lied and stole and were supported by the authorities who pay terrorists 10 million dollars.

The fact is I’m tired.  I’ve worked all my life and watched slackers, theives , psychopaths, sociopaths . Liars be rewarded.

I see this as cognitive distortion and the selection bias of my comparisons. 

But I am tired. Physically and soul tired sometimes not with Israel and Palestine gun sales or Russia Ukraine gun and ammunition market but the censorship of the evil twirl Justin Trudeau and the evil of the UN dictators club and the Klaus Schwab Epstein list private jet crowd.  

I’m looking forward to lying in the sun taking estrogen and watching my breasts grow and my skin become smooth and hopefully feel my back heal.

I’m also anxious about breathing since my near death experience unable to get air with what was mostly likely a Covid Flu thing after the polluted air of Delhi.  In Mumbai I was so sick and yet since then I’ve had a URI and survived.  I’m afraid.  I don’t like being afraid.  I’ve known fear facing guns and knives, chased by bears, in hurricanes at sea and freezing on the tundra. I want comfort and no longer want to ‘fight’ I’ve fought so many battles and rescued so many people from bullies and lies. I just want to heal and recover.  I’m happy advising re medication.  I’m happy to make diagnosis and advise but I’m not willing to engage negative transference or work through denial or pre contemplation issues.  I’m coasting and remember I did all the heavy lifting and also remember how the girls didn’ think twice about taking the light lifting work leaving the heavy lifting to guys like me and then calling us ‘toxic masculinity’.  I’m a switch hitter. Maybe if I could have had the moral or ethical nature to have a couple of girlfriends or a wife and a mistress but I’ve accommodated all their covert and passive aggression and blame and if that’s the victim, I’ll take being the victim.  If rape is inevitable best bend over and think pleasant thoughts. I was raped and I was brutalized when I complained. Some animals are more equal than other animals. I was punished when I did good. I learned that the bad guys are in nests and that the government is infiltrated by communists and traitors. I’ve lost my nativity. I’d like to be blond in camouflage. I guess being a monk comes next but I think I’m too young to do the monk thing. I checked out Meteora and Cappadocea but would take a space flight to a Mars Monastery in an instant.

I am really blessed. A great sleep in a warm bed with the warm body of my dog buddy beside me.  Terrific dreams of collegiates and university.  I once dreadmed of academia and thought it would be an award of long service but see it’s just another business.  I’d like to find a dog friendly library and write. I liked last writing in Ireland on the street while Laura shopped. I like writing and drinking coffee.  Commercial street. But I need a study space to write the books. I need stability. That’s the next ‘project’ but now I’m prepareing for another adventure. The trip south.

 

I’m trying to down load.  I took another bag to the Diabetes clothes bin and culled the storage locker some but it’s a week task with an assistant I think.  Next year. I want to learn to drive a heavier truck load too.  I would sell my boat or sail it south.  I’m happy working virtual with contact with clinics but would rather finish the books as well. 

Pacing.

It’s very good. I have food and space and so many blessings. God is good all the time. This is a great day. The air is crisp and we’re planning a drive to Chilliwack then a leisurely weekend.  Laura and Madigan.  

thank you Jesus for all your blessings. Guide me. Please.