3 am awake

I woke feeling afraid, anxious, vulnerable.  I have resisted the paranoia of the world. I’ve fought against the psychosis of modern society. I have struggled to stay open.  I began to write stream of consciousness journaling, having read Artists Way and Finegan’s Wake and seeing so much mental anguish in work. People were afraid to speak and share, living lies of ‘quiet desperation’ .

I recently explained that ‘the man who mistook their wife for a hat’ was the best little book about brain damage. It was in a discussion of dementia when a person was medicalizing forgetfulness and slippery sliding into denial of civil liberties for forgetfulness. I explained that medically dementia was a failure of neuroplasticity. The brain was a self healing organism and yet over the time the capacity to function with rationality and meaning were lost. The point was that it was ‘the little stuff’ but big stuff that counted ‘like the man who mistook his wife for a hat.’   

I was concerned decades ago that people believed ‘insaniety’ was what one ‘thought’.  I was so aware of the communist persecution and tyranny of dictatorships at the time.  I was a member of the Canadian Civil Liberties Society and Psychiatrists against the Politial abuse of Psychiatry.  I’d studied logic at university and saw that rhetoric was the norm in parliament. I was concerned reading of the Gulags and twisting thinking of Marxists whose generalizations were so appealing yet no better than the ‘deconstructionists’.  Hypocrisy. 

The oldest law of the world is the ‘Chinese Law of the Fish’.

The problem of creativity was that one’s thinking was ‘strange’ and ‘alien’.  One step ahead of the crowd you are a genius, two steps a head of the crowd you are a martyr.  The problem wasn’t in the ‘thinking’ and a need for more ‘thought police’ but rather in action.  

My Jewish genius friend told me that he is afraid to step outside anymore. “I meet people who aren’t even in the 15th century. They come from countries where the ruler is considered divine so there’s been no group consensus like the Magna Carta. Others a living before the 18th and 19th century.  They don’t know the French Revolution guillotined the poor leadership or that the American War of Independence rejected the foreign dominance.  They certainly haven’t experienced the 60’s revolution. Sex is still the ‘state’s’ And ‘my body my own’ is unheard of .  That said I’m discussing quantum entanglement in my home and mind body spiritual epistemology questioning the purpose and meaning of existence and the role of the artists in society and my new neighbour wants to live out 1950’s all over again.  When I step out of my home I find myself in this time warp recurring loop and am persecetuted by those who don’t even know the power of marketting, fringe politics of Hitler and just want consumerism and conformity.”

I wrote my blog to celebrate the breadth of ideas and that diversity was the acceptance not of the ‘state approved’ ‘groups of acceptable concerns’ but rather for the bizarre unusual and anxiety provoking.  Stephen King was an alcoholic.  The government is the primary drug and alcohol pusher for the sake of self serving taxation conveniently forgetting the 30’s referendum in Canada at least that said ‘sin tax’ was only to be used for health care not to reward politicians.  

It’s easy to be a critic. Critics are a dime a dozen.  Desire is the root of all suffering, says Buddha.  Yet Jesus said ‘take the timber out of your own eye before taking the sliver out of your neighbours’.  Jordan Peterson said that 10% of society now did not have the intellectual capacity to function in a modern society of computers and AI.  Piatian psychologists studied a cross section of society and found that the development of abstract thinking seen by Piaget in his children as occurring with adolescence wasn’t achieved by a surprising half or majority until well into their thirties.  

I just came back from a couple of months in the US and was aware of the vast differences between the political systems and government of Canada and the Us but know most Canadian media homogenizes the systems to utilize generalizations. We do. it’s communication.

I wanted my patients to realize that ‘normal’ people had all manner of fear, anger, loves, emotions , doubts and that this wasn’t insane.  I wanted to share my own ambivalence and show that yes I can be the ‘leader’ and hide my thoughts with ‘boundaries’ and all manner of ‘state approved’ deception but that this focus on the exterior in terms of thought was horribly disabling and gave rise the the greatest of tragedies.  Now we have all manner of insaniety with the term ‘emotional abuse’.  All manner of insaniety.  There is a society of malignant subjectivity, a culture of narcissism and a world of the selfie.  Whole tribes aim to be ‘influences’.  Marketting is preferred to truth. All truth is ‘my’ truth or ‘your truth’ and perspective. There’s a superficial interpretation of relativity in a world of ‘if it feels good do it’. Yet the word feeling can come from lust or love and both feel good but in an amoral society where ethics are not longer respected there’s a devil in the details.

I’m anxious because of Julian Assange and the honey traps perfected in WWII and the Cold War still being used today.  Gossip and mob violence reign.  Law and order decline. Cowardly leadership.  Weak men and long necked women.

In the middle of the night I wake afraid because I’ve tried to bare my soul to say this self reflection and expression of the good and bad is okay. It’s all about he Spirituality of Imperfection. The leaders aren’t perfect. Their power suits and pretty houses and body guards and hidden wealth are all rather passé.  I like the story Reacher.  A modern day St. Francis, the zen monk of my youthful television days.  

I have wearied of the cacophony of criticism and the demand and bullying for my time and attention and gone off alone on expeditions to the north and to sea. I’ve enjoyed solitude and not been lonely with a woman and a dog and often with just a dog and even when I had a fish or a houseplant.  So many don’t know the essence of such relationship.  I am at times aware of the great mystical wonder of being apart of the forest or the world.

I’ve found gratitude helps me adjust my attitude.  When I’m afraid and can’t sleep I write what I’m thankful for. I give up fear and replace it with faith. I believe in love. I believe the other is God. I believe I’m playing peekaboo all day with Jesus.  I pray that the saints of all religions love shine on my devotion. I am thankful for the air I breath for breathing, for the sun, for warmth and heat, for food and sustenance, for my room mate dog companion, for mobility and walking.  I am thankful for feeling. I’m thankful for showers. I’m thankful for all the well wishers. I have this fault where I hear a dozens words of praise and one word of disdain and I disregard all the positivity and focus on the negativity. I magnify disease so that I can heal it which is good in the objectivity but subjectivity I must remember Jesus said, Love God and Love your neighbour as yourself.

The weasel words are ‘God’ and ‘Neighbour’.  The natives say ‘all my relations’.  I enjoyed meeting the Jain and spending the day with him as he shared how he struggled with killing a mosquito.  He was like the Quakers who fasted for killing to but that of humans. Their neighbour was ‘humanoid’.  The war of Gods was the history at the beginning of civilizations when Yahweh and other gods were tribal gods.  

God to me is life.  All things.  All.  I loved Phillips book, Your God is too small. Then I’m talking with aetheists whose reductionism is infinitismal.  But there are no aetheists at sea or in fox holes. Aetheism is a hot house plant and the religion of communism, a dictorship.  

The movies are all ‘revenge porn’ or ‘sex porn’.  Primal stories of the Joseph Campbell variety.  The joke was if you are younger than 40 go to a Freudian because your issues are all sex and aggression but if you’re over 40 go to a Jungian because your issues are about alienation and integration.  I loved the book Denial of Death.  I fear even fleeting thoughts of suicide in depths of despair because I believe in the law of attraction.

I see depressed and angry and frightened people all day and their emotions and ideas are like infections and they are infective. I am hours on the front line knowing that the administrative class and upper class and the powerful want nothing to do with the ‘people’ .  I’m daily facing at least one ‘soul theif’.  They’re there to ‘steal my joy’ or ‘run in my day.’  They’re the kafetch and Im trying desperately to survive an hour of their fear which grates like nails on a chalkboard.  They are angry at the world and as I’m part of it I’m in their sights.  

My job is not to be their lawyer

The psychiatrist focuses on changing the invidual with psychotherapy or medications or other physical therapies.  I’m an addiction psychiatrist and trauma psychiatrist.  I am like a driving instructor who sits in the car and asks that they let me take the wheel as we crash and burn.  I walk a mile in their shoes and hope to return. I’m thoroughly buggered at the end of the day.  I’ve been spat on hit, shat on, held hostage and thoroughly abused by my superiors who hide in institutions and avoid contact with people and have the resources to walk about the wards as ‘gangs’. I’m a lone cop in a police car. I’m the priest in the battlefield.

I am holding on to life. I’m holding onto this work. I ‘m said to be at retirement age.  I’m supposed to have a referral service who screens out psychopaths and sociopaths.  Theres’ a public service and a private service but everyone is now treated as a government worker by the populace who don’t respect private business or that the damage they do to the building I’m in comes out of my income.  The government says they should be ‘free’ .  The government makes all manner of promises but takes the wealth and leaves us on the front lines like the soldiers on the beach.  I wonder how long I can do this.  

I was threatened three times today. I’ve had patients point guns at me in the office. I’ve been robbed and mugged.  So many patients live in their tv.  There are signs all over the city now don’t hurts the healing staff.  The delays and lack of services are caused by Ottawa, not me.  I’m not the enemy. The rabid dogs are bitting the hand that feeds and the police are hiding in bunkers while the corruption and greed stalk the world.

I go to work in the real world.  The majority of critics and complainers live in the safety of their screen, experiences a sanitized propaganda version of reality.

I tried explain that the diagnosis of PTSD came from what soldiers experienced not ‘emotional abuse’.  The entitled privileged narcissists screamed at me that I didn’t understand.  She had a monopoly on pain and it was always about her.

Since in the end the other is God and I am looking in a mirror I had to reflect with sadness that that was me when I was a teenager. She might be much older but the suffering I felt in her uncontrolled rage was no difference than my mother ‘s pain when I was a teen and shouting at her, blaming her for my emotional immaturity.  I sat years later in the Ashram and the Church trying to forgive myself.  I still am so ashamed that I was a toddler and shit myself.  Now am facing this in old age and wondering about compassion missing my father and brother and grand father and feeling alone.  I feel forsaken yet know I’m not.

Thank you God for the good times. Thank you God for the ‘tools’. Thank you God that I am able to recalibrate. Thank you God that I have learned what I struggle to pass on. Thank you God that I have some patience as I progress towards the only choice of acceptance on deaths bed.  Thank you God for preparing me for departure. help me to know I’m not this body, this ego, this suffering and am joy . Thank you for my being a spiritual being in a material world and knowing my mind is more than my brain.. Thank you for peace and calm and faith. Thank you God for being there with me when I feel persecuted and alone threatened and afraid.  So many threats today. So much anger.

i know these people sometimes for an hour and they say that’s they’re going to kill me as if that will solve a life of errors and defeats. I struggle to help them up while they’re flailing about having a tantrum on my office floor threatening homicide and suicide and claiming they’re going to make the world a better place by annihilating me.

Then I read that my government which paid and murdering terrorist 10 million dollars supports the Hamas terrorists and I hate that the Prime Minister is such an evil twot. As above so below.  God gives us the leaders we deserve.  Politics is the choice of the least bad alternative.  I want to go back to Israel and sit in the temple .  I remember the three markets and the disorder and sense of safety I felt or didn’t feel in each of the markets depending on the religion of the people. I don’t like the Religion of Peace that kills homosexuals.

I must find the God within to heal fron the verbal assaults and threats and abuse and the broken system with so many afraid and angry with the mismanagement of the economy and the inflation and corruption.  It’s tax time.  I’m trying to gather all the paper.  I’m pressured to meet deadliness.

I have this sense that I’m waiting for Godot. that this is where it’s’ come to.  Younger I worked and looked to a future with hope of a private plane , a family , a 

mansion a white picket fence and a family. Here I am some days feeling like the old.  My retired friends are leaving the miliaray captains or colonels knowing they didn’t make it to general and that they ‘failed’.  The rich are poor in the end. We are all 3 paychecks from eviction.  I have saved only to have the trust fund boy steal my savings and the evil witch threaten bank accounts and freeze the assets of those who love freedom. I’m afraid and can’t build up riches on earth.

There is only you God. there is no where to hide her. I went to Meteora and Cappadocia and I’ve been to the islands and to the north. There’s nowhere to hide. I have my back up against the wall of death and the abyss is there.  I walk among the delusional immortals who know no respect and haven’t been stabbed or attacked.  They’ve lived quiet lives as bullies and haven’t been to jail and asylum and haven’t seen the inside of a quiet room or solitary.  They don’t know the feeling of restraints. They’re living young without the experience of a body that betrays them, a glass spilled because the weight can not be sustained by the wrist and arm. The shaking and tremors are apparent now.  I’m laughing thinking of the shame.  

I liked Clint Eastwood, I don’t let the old man in

Trudeau wants to euthanize the mentally ill.  He claims it’s what they want.  I dentificatin with the aggressor.  Power and homeless, Solyet GReen eappeals but the rich and powerful aren’t leading the way.  Trudeau leads from the rear.  Communist leaders do.  

But then wars are for old men to kill young men.  They play their families against another’s families.  The gangs go on ….It’s like the animal and insect behaviour. All the poetry doesn’t change the barbarism.

You’ve survived.

Thank you God. thank you Jesus. Thank you for the heat. Thank you for this body. Thank you for sleep and wakeful. Thank you for the mind and heart and soul . Thank you for this day and night. May I know you more truly and surely.  

 

Yuma

It’s only been days since Laura was here. There’s more room.  I noticed that.  I don’t t have to squeeze around her and she’s taking up a lot of the bed. But it’s a bit more slovenly. She made the bed each morning. A thing of hers. I’m not that way inclined so pile the sheets and blankets and am satisfied they’re layered.  Not at all crisp.  There’s none of the sweet flowery smells either.  Madigan was always so happy when she was here. Of course he wanted to hump her or lick her ears but he was spirited. Now he’s sort of morose.  Like me I guess.  I’m back at work and the sadness, fear and despair grind away like fingernails on a chalk board.  At the end of the day I’m exhausted.  Many against one trying to convince me the universe is unfair and the future is bleak.  When Laura’s here I feel less alone.  It’s comforting to be part of a park.  So many friends dying in the last few years. No time to grieve.  The chronic back pain and the encapsuled sadness.  I miss her.  I grieve for yesterday gearing up to today.  

Im praying.  I took Madigan outside and the fresh air, dawn, all were uplifting. I have to take action to feel fine. I have all these tools for happiness. Well used mind you but a whole set of tools.  Gratitude lists.  I had a muddled dream with a messy room of her and my clothings and a sense of secrecy  and shame.  I can devolve into chaos.  I like order.  I’m planning a motorcycle ride to a ghost town in the country.  It’s a bit of a daunting ride with the prospect of rattle snakes. I have to leave him behind for the few hours. Maybe Friday.  I fear death in a foreign country.  Can’t dwell on this or attract it. I’m finding the positivity of holidays and love are rapidly lost in the tales of despair.  I remember the term ‘soul sucker’ and remember how easy it was to be and find peace alone in the woods, at sea , in the mountains.  Yet the challenge is to know God in the multitude. 

My greatest enemy is myself.  Even now I could feel better washing my little floor or taking Madigan for an early desert walk.  I struggled up from the dream and came into this world.  I’m blessed to be in paradise.

Thank you for my purpose and faith. Thank you for my boots. Thank you for my motorcycle and leather coat. Thank you for the opportunity to serve.  Thank you for my education and teachers and all the learning. Thank you for the opportunity to share. Thank you for my apple office. Thank you for this table. Thank you for my fingers. Thank you for my eyes and the feelings and senses. Thank you for family and friends. Thank you for fresh dry air of the dessert . Thank you for this morning.  It brings back memories of Mexican mornings and mornings on the sailboat. 

Help me to do the errands and tasks and all the beuroccratic affairs I must face though I want to ignore.  Just as I returned to work and have begun the old well known routine I’m bombarded with all the government demands for money and the various organizations wanting their fees.  I believe I’m copacetic but the fear of not having enough to meet all these January demands is just old terror and trauma. There’s enough and in the past it’s always been found.  I’m saving and paying the rent and taxes and meeting my obligations . I just need to ‘write the cheques’ or take the time to fill out the forms to reduce the ‘threat’ that I feel with all these threats.  I will.  Today I will work. I will walk in the desert. I will make coffee. I will drink coffee. I will make the phone calls.  All shall be well.   

I have been stymied that I’m paying a few hundred dollars a month to businesses that required me to allow automatic withdrawal but now that their serviees are no longer needed they won’t stop withdrawing despite my long needing security cameras or insurance for the old place .So now I have to contact the bank and the wait for calls has been hours and the last time they told me they couldn’t cancel the withdrawal until I talked to them. I ‘ve talked to them and they’re asking me for numbers and forms and a myriad of paper work which I no longer have with me all the while they suck blood,. I don’t want to continue to pay such people and yet they were fine until I didn’t need their service and this is clearly an example of ‘clever’ business practice that gives business a bad name.  Aging I fear for my future when I could be more vulnerable.  But it’s like fighting the Borg.

The same with the days trying to get replacement hearing aids only to find out that some law says that apps for hearing aids can only be used on US registered phones.  My phone I bought here and am using a plan here however doesn’t count because it’s Apple and part of my apple care canada based coverage.  The audiologist was closed over the holidays and I think of going back and kick myself for not getting the hearing aids which were being sold in Mexico.  All because the girl in Vancouver phoned in sick the day of my apt for new hearing aids in the weeks before my departure.  A cascade of ‘bad luck’ or what is God trying to tell me.  Termites in the rafters.   I’ve remained calm if not serene.  But the death by a thousand bites becomes a fear as each day I muddle through the increasing Beurocratic demands and decreasing competency.

That said Best Buy was terrifie.  They immediately refunded the money and the external hard drive they sold me worked just fine for backing up my work computer.  I’m succeeding

I need to focus on the positives, The gratitude list are good for that. I’m so thankful for this paradise and my overall health.  I will get into a chiropracter soon too and go for massage. I have the exercises I am to do and will get to them. I have the shopping list for groceries I need . I will shower today. I will get all these things done and the others on the to do list will be face.  In the morning though I resist making contact. I’m safe in my isolation. I’m loath to encounter strangers and face confrontations and conflict since I want what I’m due but it seems to require a struggle like the voice I have to use to get my dog to come. He ignores the normal voice. All these beaurocrats are like that. They are overbearing until I push back .  In fact that’s not true. I have these terrific people always helping most of the time. It’s the irritating one that remains in my mind and I fear.

There was this overpowering administrator in the dream a left over from school , a bullying demanding sort encouraging the ordering of the room.  A drill sergeant sort.  I ‘m thankful for them today but their voice like my parents voices lingers in my mind no doubt as my voice lingers in my dogs mind. I call him and he doodles.

That raised the whole issue of ‘love ‘ and ‘fear’ .   The communists are feared . The CRA and FBI and all those alphabet folk are feared but the question is what they represent from one’s past. It’s always Jungian archetypes and God.  My interaction with the world is ultimately me and the other.  God and I .  There is no need for despair.  God loves me and this to will pass.

The tool box says ‘suit up and show up’,  ‘do the next right thing’.  I have a design for living. I don’t need to swim against the current.  I am in God’s hands. I’m a child of God. This is an adventure.  Thank you god for the adventure.  

Thank you for the love.  

Yuma - Seeking God

It’s another day to seek God.  To know God better.  I am grateful.  Everyday is a blessing

This morning though my back is very sore.  I turned off the heater last night and got chilled. I see I’ve kicked the Hudson Bay blanket off the end of the bed.  I’d taken twice thee dose of NSAIDs on Thursday in Mexico.  I had forgotten my little bottle of anti inflammatory pain killers in my bag. When I changed my cloth bag to the new leather HD bag I found them.  Customs had found them previously and told me I couldn’t bring an open bottle of pills across the border. I left that one at home and didn’t know about this one.  So I took a bunch and threw out the rest.  Yesterday I didn’t take any.  Last night I was cold and sore. This morning I’m stiff.

It’s coupled with self pity.  Powerlessness.  Like having an itch in the back you can’t reach.  I just feel if I could just bend or twist just right the painful kink would release. I didn’t like hearing I had an old fracture.  It’s made it difficult for me to do the mind over matter thing.  It’s all psychosomatic.  But also today I’m sad about Laura’s holiday coming to a close, We talked about endings yesterday. I’d booked another month here but was looking at taking a week to return heading out to LA San Fran to get going the week before the last week before I need to be home.  Laura leaves on Tuesday.  I drive here to Phoenix Tuesday morning. Then we’re on our own, Madigan and I , for a couple of months.  The plan is to return to Burnaby but at other times i think of stopping in White Rock,  Life is good but I think of change. My back pain is compartmentalized grief and anger and fear.  Returning to the place I’ve been seems certain.  Convenience and baby steps.  

I want to know God more. I’ve meditated less here. I continue to pray a lot.  I am forever talking with God and calling upon God.  The spiritual realm and material realm.  I quiet my mind by repeating the name of God.  Walking meditation I do but sitting meditation not so much here yet. I had hoped to do more. I face north. The allignment of the truck and seating.  I’m used to facing east meditating.  I plan more exercise. I’ve been busy and focussed on Laura. Her teeth were the major issue of the visit and accomplished. Now we’ve celebrated Christmas too. 

My motorcycle has been waiting an ignition module, the delayed part though under warranty. We can hope it will be here the day after Laura leaves.  

I’ve thought of sex but the spontaneity is gone and fear of hurting my back worse is present. I’m overthinking too.  That’s a problem. There’s no mad passion and I can’t be drunk or drugged and acting on body. My mind and soul are connected. I’m confused.  A part of me would be the monk.  I’m to write and another part is to be the Zorba the Greek.  Stoicism and Epicurianism clash.

The desire for God is the desire of the burning bush. I would see the light and know the presence of God as overwhelming. Now I know my life as God and the rising sun and nature and all the world around me is not me.  Not me.  Not God. I’m the spectator. All is God.  God the other.  I am playing peek a boo with God and calling him Jesus. God within and God will come again,  Christ.  Messiah.  I am happiest with the synchronicities. I know that the world has unfolded so well with Laura this last week, all the trips to Mexico going well.  My meeting her at Phoenix Airport. The dentist and the success of the four root canals.  I’ve had the money and the time. We’ve had time off and together.  We’ve not made love. It’s waiting on me.  I can initiate sex and know she’ll gladly join in but the struggle is my back and my desire to lie back and know God without effort. I would live in my dream flying anf present.  

Pain is nature.  Pain is the chronic not the acute alerting pain but the chronic abiding pain that wears and reminds one of the fear false accusations, lies of authorities betrayals the deceit and dishonesty, the lack of gratitude.  Pain is a litany of voices. It’s some message I can’t read. I feel that if I could read that message then I’d have release. It’s my life. 

I need to exercise and focus on those exercises specific to relieving this chronic pain. Maybe today I’ll find a chiropractor,  Maybe sex and pain are linked and that I need deal with the pain before I seek pleasure. There’s no doubt of the connection, Pain is love too.   All is love. 

Thank you Jesus,  Help me God know the answers to my questions and do the next right thing.  Help me to love and be loved.

Yuma Morning, Love and memories, attitude of gratitude, weeding the garden

I woke at 630 this morning.  I’d been up once in the night to pee. Now as I prayed I thought I normally wake at 7 though we’d not got up till 8 these last couple of days. Madigan had woken me ready to go. He’s a funny guy. Sleeps in but once in a while gets bored and like a kid wants us to get up early and pray. I went to bed exhausted after our trip to Mexico,  I was asleep before 10.  We’re outside of Yuma at Bonita Mesa by Fortuna Road.  

I believe our egos or the self relaxes when there’s wide open spaces and we’re more one with nature.  I expand.  In thee city the press of other egos is work keeping one contained.  In Mexico all the hustlers anxious and needy are pressing in actually touching and physically sometimes demanding attention,  tapping the shoulder, putting the goods they want to sell in your face.  It’s wearing.  I enjoy the buzz and the friendliness but then I’m also on guard, a foreigner, watching his iPhone and wallet.  There’s that but Los Algadones is the safest place mostly professionals, highest density of dentists, opticians and their assistants.  The others are merchants but they make it hard to walk down the street.  I feel it’s not a place to saunter and enjoy.  I remember that even on the Malacon of the bigger towns of the west coast there were vendors disrupting the revelry.  No wonder I love camping and the north away from people.  Boundaries and respect.  

I’ll never forget the Galleria built in the 18th century in Milan with openings to the merchants store complex that only accommodated the doorway of carriages, This way the guards cook let the shoppers in and keep the street people out.  Laura was accosted on the streets of Milan by a gang of Somalian ‘refugees’ who held her till she gave them 20 euros.  Right in the Main Street , a dozen big men holding a little grandmother by the wrist, extorting money.

Such memories come back but not so quickly the far more important memories of my mother walking me and protecting me as a child. I am so thankful for the childhood I had with my parents in Fort Garry Winnipeg.

I saw a CFL Saskatchewan Roughriders Jersey and took a picture.  Other’s commented on it when I put it up on FB.  

I see yellow in the sky to the east.  I let Madigan out and we walked about the camper and truck. Our new neighbours have a bus and two dogs, a puppy chihuahua and an older one.  

I might have woken and got up early because I’m hoping to collect my Harley today.  The ignition module needed to be replaced and they hoped to have the part yesterday so said it would likely be ready today.  It’s Friday the 29, of the Holiday weekend.  A new year. I think fondly of the time in New York with Laura.  

I liked seeing there was a meeting today. Terry posts readings which I often read though confess I’m lax at times. I love the meeting.   

I talked with Lydia yesterday and thought fondly of the clinics, She asked when I was returning and I said before end of February.  I renewed my spot here for another month so that’s Feb. 10 about. I think I’ll take some vacation time to head home.  It took me 4 days to get here but I’m thinking I’d like to plan 5-7 days, maybe leave on the Thursday Feb. 23.  I may leave here and head out to San Diego and get a start on the return.  The weather is warm up to LA and I could begin the trek up the coast but maybe misss the LA hills stretch by sticking to the coast, but more traffic and better views.  

Laura leaves on the 2nd. I’ll drive her up to Phoenix leaving 8 am from here.  I’ve so enjoyed her company.  Comfortable.  Cozy.  Friendly. I do love the girl.  Friend, lover, confident, dog mom.  People call us husband and wife and after 25 years of ‘hanging out’ we don’t correct them.  Yet we’ve kept separate residences. I remember my last wife on cocaine and angry and unpredictable and me unable to sleep in the house.  She’d almost killed us several times sailing, lying and doing damage. Borderline.  Enraged.  She drove the car into the wall that day and would go to bed for days.  Bipolar.  Psychotic. So many terms had been used for her mother and she was her mother’s daughter. They both refused treatment. That was the last straw when she we sent her away to San Diego to get drug and alcohol treatment and she played doctor and told all the lies about me to her family failing to mention her drug dealer and the grow op she had in the home and any of the other stuff.  

I had been married three times and the women were fine all of them great ladies but this last wouldn’t pass as a room mate.  On the sailboat I’d had to bring the coast guard aboard to lecture her on safety and explain why there were ‘rules’ of the sea. She never believed that rules applied to her even in her medical training.  The Coast Guard were understanding. I asked her to sail with other women who sailed but she wouldn’t preferring to badger me and dominate me.  Somehow the idea being that if a man had sex with a woman he was now her inferior.  It was all emotional reasoning.

But I spent to many years on call, delivering babies, answering the phone, going out to hospitals to let my sleep be constantly disturbed by someone who took delight in causing another person suffering. She was mean.  

And i vowed I’d not give up my bed again. I’ve not married. I’ve several moveable homes, boats, campers , RV’s.  I’ve had apartment but I’ve not bought houses because the woman got them in divorces and the judges gloated at the suffering of other men hoping against hope to get the women who would see their proxy violence as manly. The courts were so obscene about marriage. Marriage and family law needed to be tribunals.  Nothings made that more true when she showed up with her lawyer both of them in push up bras and fish net stockings looking like hookers as the judge licked his lips and drooled at the girls.  Thank God for my Chinese Christian colleague who told me his people had been abused enough by the English courts that he prepped me well for the whole obscene drama. I was so thankful for the wisdom of the Christians that day and now understood that the errors of marriage were in my choice.

I’d picked non Christians, a delightful pagan and an aetheist and a whatever.  I’d also drunk and picked drunks and simply liked women who wore black bra and panty sets. I was the twisted one there. I wanted the wife who was the lady in the living room and whore in the bed room.  

Laura was a grandmother when I met her.  A lapsed catholic who rarely attended church till she came with me and had stopped going to Al Anon because the 12 stamps point the finger at ourselves. We prefer to blame.

Despite all the therapy and sponsorship I still interpret my ex wife’s not as the Jesus they were but rather as the ‘other’.  They were saints come to teach me the best of lessons, Zen warriors who at any time could have caused me so much more harm or death but rather played with me like a cat with a mouse teaching me how to be prepared for the psychopaths in charge, the government men, the multi billionaires, the satanic, and the wise.  I have been blessed to have the best of wives but now I respect my sleep too much to put my bed into an agreement about sex and historically made for the fanily and children and not for couples. A proper roommate agreement would have laid out duties and obligations. I remember the sex stoppage in the middle marriage and ‘my body my own’ the decision against children.  I did the sperm test and don’t want to face that humiliation again.  All the while the laws are stuck in the 17 th century and the traitor Trudeau brings in immigrants pre Magna cart and women culled from questioning their men knowing too many of their sisters killed in living memory whereas here the women abuse men with impunity . Cultural marxist plays the woman as the proletariat and all men are bourgeoisie.  Especially my multimillionaire educated ex wife.

Now that’s the bad neighbourhood of my mind.  The good times we all had were decades of fun and folly. The bad times were at most 1/10.  At least 51% of the time was good but immature mind slips into the goo of self pity and wallowing despair , the narcissism of self and won’t live in the attitude of gratitude where it belongs.

That said sleeping beside Laura last night was heavenly. I watched her climb into bed and was reminded of my adolescent self dreaming to be near such a gorgeous sexy creature. And here she was cuddled beside me . Our good night kiss is the best of apertif’s. 

She is the best and the present. Maybe the past would be best if it was present. My 50 year married friends says they fell in and out of love and that the good years were best.  Divorce like abortion is the throw away society consumer object.  Why even own duct tape.. The next generation can’t cook. We can order in sex like food.  It’s changing society of individualism and communism.  The glue of love and time is gone,  The communists fear the family.  The only loyalty is to the state, the new religion, better 1984 and a collection of shallow slippery sorts afraid and sickly but flocking to the latest fashion.  

I’m old.  Laura is kind to be with me. I miss the hard dick and strong back and lifting women to fuck them in their clothing sans panties against whatever wall is convenient, in the streets, in the home in the elevator.  Today sex isn’t spontaneous.

All that is spontaneous is peeing.  My aunt said to me when I was a teen that I’d one day know the locations of restrooms as she did. Well now I’m mapping restrooms and enjoying easy access.  I still drink coffee out but admire camel Laura who forgos beverages except at home.  We’re as amusing together as my dog who when i kiss Laura climbs over my shoulder to add a kiss.

These are the memories i want my mind to turn to not the well worn pages of self pity like to fools card deck.  I want today to focus on the positive and remember life as the glorious gift of adventure and friends that it has been.  

She’s up,  I’ll make her coffee.

Fear of Death/Love of Life

Fear of death has been thought the greatest fear.  Many variations of the theme exist like fear of dying, fear of pain, fear of powerlessness, fear of loss of control, humility, and much more.  

The classic psychiatric text was Denial of Death by Ernest Becker.  Denial is the most primitive of coping mechanism and used primarily when overwhelmed or perhaps negatively surprised.

The historic and traditional, microcosmic and microcosmic, approach to death is reproduction.  Children have been humans ,individually and collectively, response to fear of death and mortality.  Art and empire and monuments are all other ways of attempting to reach beyond the apparent limit of life.  Religion and all manner of thought systems further attempt to extend this life.  Not only is this the forward thinking approach but the study of history and archeology further advance the idea that life isn’t brief and perhaps sordid but rather long and noble.  

Love of life and imnortality go hand in hand. 

Vanity.

Children and family and genetically related individuals and groups are the building block of society.  

Yet coitus interruptis, the ‘withdrawal method’ was mentioned in Genesis.  L’Chaim , to life, but not if it’s to one’s dead’s brother’s progeny which was the requirement of Hebrew Law. If your brother died without an heir, you were required to i pregnate his wife.  Onan, much maligned for Onanism, or masturbation, rather failed to impregnate his dead brother’s wife and give her and him an heir. Instead he wanted to keep the land for himself and his progeny.

Land and land ownership and all that ties to that was of course part of the need for the construct of permanence and denial of death and change and fear of course of change and death.

The reformer is the enemy of anyone who benefits from the status quo but as change is frightening.

Faced with fear we ‘freeze’, ‘fight’ or ‘fight’.

“Freezing’ is very popular.  However what happens to an ostrich who puts its head in the sand. “It doesn’t know who kicks it”.

Birth and death.

We only have other’s word about our birth and the Big Bang theory, and we can’t tell anyone about our death.  Just one more of the great paradoxes of life.

The Book of Mormon was a sublime comedy and satire of all philosophies and religions.  The play was a challenge to all ‘people of the book’.  The major books are Bible, Bhagadvagita, Koran, Talmud, the Tripitaka, the Tao, Communist Manifesto, and the list goes on.  Each book has a protagonist,  Moses, Mohammed, Jesus, Paul, Buddha, Confuscious, Marx, etc.  There are a variety of these emotionally carthaced individuals with a mythology that surrounded their venerable lives.

The notion of God is ideas coming down from God, Intelligence and ideas going up to God , competing elevator ideas.

The oldest law of the world is the Chinese Law of the Fish, there are Big Fish and Little Fish, and little fish must be fast and numerous.

Having children made people bigger.  We protestants didn’t like to fight the catholics because we had a couple of brothers and sisters in general and the catholics had a lot.  Throughout history empires were made on children who provided the armies and the equivalent of slave labour.  Today children are pets. Then they were tools.

Feminist is a great myth. Women’s individualism was a product of contraception and the myth of overpopulation and the Industrial Age.

The Machine,

The Dark ages aren’t as dark as intellectuals would have you believe The advances in engineering are mind boggling.  Just the idea of the lever and the pyramids and stone henge are more monumental than space flight. 

The dark ages and Middle Ages were a time of physical advancement and not just paintings.  The renaissance was a recovery and advance of science.  

Science joins two with the ‘neutral term’ ‘associated with’.  Marxism and it’s little sister feminism joins two ‘events’ with the value laden term ‘oppresses’. Hence the hysteria of victimship and legal equivalent of side taking, and blame and shame.  Politicians advance with divide and conquer and ganging up. 

Individualism was never desired.  In face of threat humans congregated.  Being alone was for the lunatic and the religious.  Even monks were a community as Thomas Merton showed in his study of Buddhist and we knew of the Dessert father.

War is us against them.  It’s all fear based and paranoia.  Steal a little and they put you in jail , steal a lot and they make you king. The winner writes history.  Women are equally guilty.  Eva Brawn and Hitler’s Mother created Adolf.

Women have been second class only because of their unwillingness to accept accountability.  No praise without blame.  Today the various victim cults want license not freedom. The language is changed to validate whatever ideology suits , such as murder and abortion or Medically Assisted Suicide,

I turned 70. I am an individual.  I realized 28 days alone at see with only a dog and a cat.  

The only day we have is today. Carpe Diem. ODAAT. One day at a tine,  We live from sleep to sleep. 

Life is a manifestation of memory desire and today.  Buddha did say desire is the root of all suffering.  Kierkegaard said life is suffering unto death.

Freud said Eros and Thanatos.  Life wish and death wish.

Politicians promote their children today and say vote for me “I”m a parent’.

The division is ‘parents and single’s, ‘families versus individuals’,  With the machine we don’t need many more. A dog and a cat perhaps, a God, a friend.  

Sex was first for pleasure.   Later it was connected to child making.  Later it was known that the largest armies one.  

Gender is a product of the past.  

Humans are heard animals. Raising children or even monkeys alone created insaniety, death wish dominant.  Raising biologically disconnected children, adopted, kibbutz etc worked.  

Science takes groups and compares them and finds general trends and directions which can guide but don’t predict the future of the individuals.

Individuals and individualism is associated by farmiles and countries.  The paranoid sees the individual as oppressed by the group.  Certainly the Communist Committee Gangstrism continues to oppress individuals.

Others see all relationships as mutual ,versus parasitic,

I like my dog,  Dog and human have been a long history of mutuality.  

I remember family and being born but my father’s generation was born into the celebration of the ‘family unit’.  The Asian family unit vernerates the old.  Children are a mother’s old age pensio.  Mother’s collectively are cared for by children in old age while the world is full of disregarded old men.  Men die 10 years younger than women because they are uncared for .  The lie of feminism was that women were tougher, but when put in the same jobs they died as young. Feminists haven’t been creative but have raised children for themselves .  Today women have sons on leash. Men have dogs on leash.  

Men are becoming women and women are becoming men,  God doesn’t make mistakes.  The whole idea of that is fate versus choice.  I chose to dress as a woman and because of that I can be deemed wrong, bad, mad.  But the other who says God made a mistake. Is the latest in the victim motif.  I love the advances of science and women getting big breasts and women getting little breasts is called cosmetic surgery. I’d like breasts as a man for the sake of cosmetic surgery.  Not because of fate or free will.

However the great industry of law and psychology is to ‘advocate’ for the outside.  Today one of the wealthier groups is the new ‘drug pusher’ who is the ‘advocate’ of the ‘drug addict’ who can’t abstain but must have safe source.  The natives did the land claims game with native getting 1 million dollars while two lawyer groups got 10 million dollars each to gabfest.  The safe source debate is little different,

The same debate occurred with Sangster and birth control and abortion.  The pregnant girl could abstain or the rape could have been compensated as in tribal society superior and more sophisticated than today which is a lewd and obscene society.  Neither better or worse. Difference.

The idea of the Christian’s refusing to take the plank out of their own eyes while attacking on mass the mote in their neighbours.  The Christian who is obese slanders the Christian who murders.

Hierarchy of hate and shame and inside out sider is perpetuated in the law of the fittest.  Are we reducing the gene pools but helping the wounded

I don’t have children. I like wearing dresses. But I liked wearing cammo. I liked wearing the military imitation officer suits popular with lawyers and politicians. I liked wearing yachting gear and dancing wear and clinical lab coasts and college cordoroy.  Gender is not who I am.  

Yahweh - I am who I am.  

Namastes - the God in me salutes the god in you.

Alone I am never alone,   I am a Christian.  The Christian god is loving and always loving and not judgemental ,  Incluseive , not exclusive.  But then God is loving and judgemental and inclusive or exclusive.  God is all or nothing and All and nothing.

I loved the 60 tv show Prisoner.  A totalitarian dystopia whereas I’ve a libertarian dystopia.

As a Christian I’m top of the class as married man with good kids today.  As a politicians, the same.  Historically the Christians were individuals and disciples and groups and some were alone and some some were married.  We don’t hear much of the children of the disciples.

Cherry pickin Christians have rejected Paul on women and slaves but also cherry picked Jesus ‘. Thoughts on enmity and money.  

I loved the 60’s books, Be Here Now (a take off from Brother Lawrence, Pracrticing the Presence of God’ and Elkhart Toole, Power of Now.,  I also like the couple who wrote ‘what to do till the messiah comes’.  A Jewish couple who did’t believe Jesus was the messiah,  I heard an Anglican Priest say he didh’t believe the Bible.  Another Protestant Canadian female minister didn’t believe in God or Jesus but wanted the job and pension.  

The government doctor told me “Act like a doctor’, and he had the arrogance to think he did To me he was just another ‘suit’.  

My life as a community psychiatrist was always “attraction’.  The world of ‘prevention’ is even more attraction.  The ‘police doctor’ the ‘licensing doctors remind me of the time when I was in charge of the asylum. If you wanted out you needed to do as I say.  There’s a world of coercion in medical politics,

In the healing profession the person is dying and you can delay the process and relief suffering.

All medicine is palliative care in face death,

I and my family go to heaven. You and your family go to hell. Your mother wears army boots.  Amazing what we can’t learn from what children discern. You’re in or out.  King Lear at the end speaking to his daughter.  Shakespeare calls it ‘court things’.

90% of cross dressing men are heterosexual .  The whole feminist movement of today is the woman wearing pants. Chanel to Hillary Clinton. The argument that post modernism is just a pretty name for the Super rationalism that denies the feminine and denounce the mother, the holy mother, the sacred mother.  Women in communism the religion of aetheism were denied children. Abortion and hysterectomy . Vasectomy is not a communist thing,  The primitive tribal woman says we count a man by the number of his children.  

The number of children and number of wives

Anthropologists define the west as ‘serial monogamy’. In my childhood 50 year marriages were normal with divorce rare and families in tact to some degree mostly. Today the urban divorce rate is 50 % and 5 year marriages are the norm.  Based on individualism and science perhaps the 50 % marriages that persist are the bad marriage.

My friend who left high school and became a millionaire called me a slow learner because I spent another 12 years in institutional learning and even went not to teach at a couple of universities.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  Women act more like men than their mothers,  Marx and Engles wanted to destroy families as a threat to the almighty god of the State.  Communists call mothers ‘Breeders’.  

It’s fun getting to know women more.  I also see gays and other minority groups in a non child centered fear of death way.  

An early female Judge found 320 consecutive family cases against the man.  

The woman registrar at the College of Physicians and Surgeons said “Women don’t lie about sex”.  I have to date never been compensated for all the sexual harassment I have experienced in the work place, the rape, the caning in school, being hit in the head by a teacher’s wooden mallet, the individual list of ‘wrong’s’ and manure of self pity that power the ‘pay me’.  The story of the fisherman and the beggar is lost to history.   

I don’t like being among strangers.  I have worked in the jails and the asylums and I have been in government offices.   I am good at my work.  I’m like a motor parts guy, a spiritual fixit.  I know the products available and have a lot of answers to all manner of questions most of which people are afraid to share with others.  

Live and let live.

Jesus taught Love God and Love thy neighbour as yourself.  If any passage in the Bible veers from this then that’s what needs to be discussed not whether a trucker wears diapers.  

To thine own self be true.

God is all and I am a part of God.  

My identity is not my self’.  C.S.Lewis’s said thoughts are ‘creatures’.  St. John of the Cross, Nada.  The spiritual path.  The long dark night of the soul.  

I am a lone but not alone,. 

 

Birthday Gift

It’s the greatest gift. Ironically I am blessed by giving away.

She woke as I climbed back into bed after writing of a dream.  

“Happy birthday, “ she said so sweetly.   She then kissed me. Her warm moist  lips met mine.  Her tiny tongue slipped between. The song of love and mystery had begun.   Our embrace grew deep.  I held her close. My night shirt and her black satin slip took flight.   Tactile flesh celebrated ancient awakenings.

In the moonlight I glimpsed her heavenly white form.  I was struck by how alike Titian’s Venus she was.  Not child like  or athletic hard  but womanly voluptuous.  A goddess with eyes averted she could even now step from the sea.  Her beauty  so sensual and pure.   

She is Irish and Fay.   Her father was dark Irish of the sea.  She was born brown haired  but now has coloured this blond to conceal the grey.

I turned a seventy year old man today.. 

I didn’t feel like such as my fingers  explored her soft and savoury body.  Surprising myself  I became gymnastic despite complaints of pain the previous day..    There is something in the vision of perfect white breasts caught in the light of dancing moon beams.    Her very scent , aphrodisiac pheromal phenomenal. I became truly focussed in the moment.    Somewhere outside of myself I saw,with astonishment , she  still inspired insaniety in me.  I loved her.  

The simple growing wetness of her removed all conscious thought addling my mind and freeing untold peace.  I prepared to die on the upstroke and be reborn on the down. Such was the music of our tidal passion.   Her  heat exploding between us weaponized.   My respirations crescendoed with exploding heart beats.  Near ecstacy I looked down at her beautific face and knew the space between us was consecrated.  In carnal sweat and drumming rhythm the harmony transformed our sacred meaning.

A man without a woman is not a man ,the old Rabbi ,in Israel ,told me, his eyes mischievous with reason.

I felt the bed shaking as a primal roar exploded with sensations. Fingers, lips and genitalia celebrated in opera and symphony.  

I passed through love’s black hole entering  the galaxy beyond.  A changed man. Softened, humbled.  

Thank you, I said when breathe returned.

She giggled, a little girls laugh, this mother and grandmother and friend.   ‘Thank you’ she whispered.  

I felt love course through my scarred and jaded heart that long ago had lost innocence.  She renewed my life with being. 

This woman who really did look like Venus in the moonlight. 

She restored my faith. Such was grace.   

I am a seventy year old boy today.

New Day and God

I woke this morning before the alarm. I reached out for the furry one whose presence comforts me and reassures me till contact causes him to believe it’s time to jump on my face. I am working on stopping this. It’s a shocking way to wake.  I love him. He’s only a year and still a puppy.  Madigan is my room mate, friend, companion.  A therapy dog in training.  

He doesn’t usually shut off.  Cockapoo’s shut off around two years old.  If I play with him he wants to keep playing.  There’s never ‘enough’ unless I draw the line.  Attention deficit disorder with dependent personality traits coupled with manic depressive tendencies and a touch of anti social behaviour.  He’s a dog. I’m a dog.  We are animals joined to the spirit of God.  Together we are growing.  St. Francis called his body ‘Brother Ass”.  

Our first activity after we hit the loo is to ‘walk the dog’.  Walk the body.  Move the donkey. My body feels aches and pains and rickety and that morning walk is always uplifting. Even now in the cold rainy pre dawn darkness I enjoy breathing.  

I’m thanking God from the minute of awaking.  This Tron like creation, 3d Matrix existence, art remembering art, reality a construct. I am God, you are God, God is all.  I am the little light of the big light. The little bang of the Big Bang.  I’m interconnected with the fabric of existence. All the evidence of elements and vortices and whirls and motion and computer generated space all say that I am a thought in the greater thought.

Creator.

Designer.

Writer.

In the beginning was the Word.  God is that mother ship and I am the saucer, my eyes and my experience part of the whole.  

Time is now.

The motion of all directions is relative.

Owen Barfield, ‘Saving the appearances’.  All the reductionism and control that people use to avoid the sacred.  We are creatures on a planet whirling around the sun in a galaxy in the armpit of the universe.

It’s still glorious. Like a child looking at pond sludge through that first beginner microscope. I’ve known awe. Over and over and over again I have been touched by joy.

I have loved the orgasm of experience like a total consciousness explosion not unlike that lust releasing creative burst of pent up loins in the embrace of a lay promising recreation. I have worshipped goddess both fertile and barren.

I have worshipped all the Gods and the one true God. God of God, very God of Very God.  

I am seeking God in every breath I take.

Jesus Christ, the historical man and the Holy Spirit, the fabric of the universe , the presence and promise. I breathe in and I breath out.  Jesus Christ.  God within and God will come again. I am ever playing hide and seek with God.

I once thought God wasn’t present in my masturbation or my vengeful thoughts. Now I know that love is all. Just as Bach uplifts and tribal music incites the sense to rebellion today I seek for the heavenly knowing that those who find heaven are no longer naive.  Perhaps the innoscnt child but the ignorant is not going to know heaven on earth.  There are consequence.  The more I am inhuman and inspectoid the less I can know the celestial spheres. I love that soft heart place within that causes me to cry in empathy with other sufferers.  

Kiekegaard said, “Life is suffering until death’.  To live is to suffer.  

I can dance and sing and serve and still I suffer.

Anxiety is a measure of one’s distance from God and equally a measure of one’s humanity.  

Existential angst.

Now older I face death, an intellectual construct. Just because others die does not mean I must.  I can be the exception. I also can know death as a passage, from this cocoon state to the butterfly state beyond.

Matter is slow energy. Death is a leaving of the body I have invested with soul. I am a hitchhiker.  I may pass to another body or another way of existence.

Yet today I linger on regrets of earthly matters.  Court things. You are poor if all you have is money. I have some kudos and some titles and some status whereas once I was young and had confidence but no real cause for my courage and fearlessness.  Today I still see what I lack and must force myself to praise and gratitude. I have been blessed.

Just for today. Yesterday is a memory. I can rewrite the feeling state and sing the body electric. I can celebrate my existence. It’s been a good life. I have learned so much and forgotten more. I have served and lived and loved.  I am titled and rich in experience and have had so many skills and learned so many lessons.  I still seek God.

The Creator. The script writer. I long to know the producer. I want to meet the mind beyond.  I will in death no doubt but now in the last third of life I would be more in tune and in touch.I’d be more free.  Thy will be done.  I have done ‘my’ will and the ‘bondage of self’ has limited me.  Yet I do not wish to ‘go gently into that still night’ .  

Dance.

Laugh. 

Sing.

Keep moving until they throw dirt on you.

Thank you God for another day.  May I serve you this day as always.  Guide me.  

Celebrate! Celebrate! Dance to the music.  

I want to feel you in my step and in my voice.  I want to sense the music like a great cat as I move and hear the symphony of song in each word. I would Channel you God.  Lift me up on Eagle’s wings!!!! God of love and creation.  Thank you Jesus!

  

Love loss

I’m afraid to let you know I love something

I’m afraid to let you know I love someone

I’m afraid to let you know I love

Or I will destroy 

Or you will destroy

Or it will be destroyed

I can’t trust again

I can’t cry again

I can’t lose again

I can’t hurt again.

I can’t love again.

I’m afraid to let you know

Love God

I was taught to Love God. I was taught humility in my home. As a child I was taught to kneel beside my bed beside my mother praying to God. God was the parents of parents.  God was Father.  God was Creator. God was Mother. God was All.

Later I would learn the spiritual stories of God. I’d read the Scripture, the Holy Bible, the story of the Western Men and Women’s relationship to God.  I’d later read the Gita, the story of the God Krishna,  I’d read of the Yahweh and Allah and the Abrahamic God. I’d read of primitive peoples and the Golden Bough. I’d read of child sacrifice and killing the king. I ‘d read of cults of mushroom, Peyote, and drugs, then the cults of sex and tantra and all the taboos cults with their inner secrets, so often experiential and secretive. 

I’d study in depth the first 300 years of Christianity. I’d see that the Church would be like a cellular creature dividing, not only in Christianity but in Buddhism and Islam.  Quickly one movement would become 10. Always the traditional would then war with the latest ‘anti traditional’.  They’d have the fanciest names.  It was always us and them.  The war was always among men to get you to agree with me. The old paranoid tribal chant. « You’re with me or a gin me.’  We are a religion of peace, only if you become Muslim.  We have the one God. We are the True Christian Church. We’re the only ‘right’ Buddhist teaching. We are only path. We are the one. Me first.  I am the prophet of all Gods. I’m the prophet of one God.  

People are funny.

Religion is made by people out of the god stuff of Spirituality.  Spirituality is about the Holy Spirit.  The second person of the Holy Trinity of Christ. The most basic idea is that there is an unseen world. Nature spirits and superstition.  Freud’s unconscious. 

The plants will grow only if you don’t have sex on Sunday.  The fear of this food or that clothing. It was everywhere.  You knew your tribe by the fears and superstitions.   You had to cut your hair in just this way. The penis was cut in this way. The Labia that way  If you were with us you had your patch that way. If you were agin us you had your triangle pointed up or down depending on whether or not you ate the placenta or were vegetarian. 

It’s truly bizarre.
Don’t criticize my dreidel and I won’t criticize your cross.  There was the war of weapons and the war of words. All over the world the war of religions went on.  

Then finally the best religion of all was the Trojan Horse religion calling itself Aetheism. We are the ‘No God’ religion and the Communists arose with their red colour and new rituals and their Trinity of Lenin, Mao and Marx.  Kill the ‘God’ people because we’re the « No God’ people . The Philosophers fought the Theologians and the Red hats slayed the white hats and aborted all their babies. The elites kept their babies and even created child sex cults in Brussels to play  with the babies of Catholics whose babies lived only because they were not being aborted..  

No God Religion with new or words and new old rituals fought the God Religions with Old new words and Old new  rituals. Separation of Mosque and State never occured.  The State had it’s State Religion and called them Chinese Churches.  The No God religion let in the God Religion and the Religion of no Separation of Church and State spread in the Religion of Acceptance, tolerance  and love.  The religion of the head in the sand.  While the nature spirit religion joined with the no God religion and they all got angry when you called their obsession God because they now used new term Culture, the culture religion fought the fashion religion.  Then the Secularists were the Aetheists in disguise when originally the secularists were for all God religion.  Pantheism and One God. The names changed faster than hockey teams.   

Only the children got confused with the names.  Vegas was Vegas whether it was Brussels or Dubai. 

The No God religion liked to propagandize the children like the God religion did. They all used the children for food and cannon fodder and propaganda movies.

It was ridiculous. It was all just absurd!

It was so human and adolescent. The Fuck God cult versus the Fuck No God Cult.  The idols of money and power and the planet. Save the goat in the Honduras. Help the spotted owl in the Congo.  Whose going to care for the homeless. I’m the Goddess of Fashion. Dress like me. Speak French like I do.  Drive a BMW,  Vegetarianism or insect eating .  Sex dolls.

It’s all such Silliness. God is a comedian.  The No God Religion has outlawed comedy as hate speech. 

Today it’s Christmas.  A baby was born.  The birth of Christ.  God came to see and live his creation.

Jesus, a God Spy.  

Jesus thought childhood was okay despite the constant attempts by the Big Man /Big Woman to kill his parents.  His friend John was beheaded by the Big Woman. The Big Woman just got the Little man to do her will. The Big Man killed babies.  But he didn’t Kill Jesus.

Arjuna asked Krishna why go to War.  Why not. The war will go on with or without you.
Buddha said « Desire is suffering ».

Killing women and children is easier than killing men.  It’s a major embarrassment if a Big Man can’t kill a little child.  Jesus lived.  

Jesus taught love.  The Big Man/Big Woman, the No God, and many Gods, Power and Money Gods, , really , everyone , they all killed Jesus.  But not as a child.  He was lucky. Today he’d be aborted.
But he made it to being a young man before they got him.  He fooled them. For awhile. It was all God’s plan, story,script.

The oldest law of the world is the Chines law of the Fish. There are big fish and little fish and the little fish must be fast and numerous.  

Jesus was killed as a young man.  Crucified.  But then he  resurrected.  Unlike today  they couldn’t censor the tv and internet in those days so the word got out. This world of money and power and big men and women,  No God and Idols, couldn’t stop the Gospel, the Good News. The word got out.

The Gospel spread.  The Holy Bible said the Baby Jesus resurrected. There was life after death. There was Good and Evil. God’s law said don’t fuck the children.  There is a God And God’s law. It’s not seen. It’s inside. It’s all creation. It’s here and now.  

Love God.  Love your neighbour as yourself.

Today is Christmas.  It’s not No God day. It’s not Santa day. It’s not Muslim day or Pagan day or Lenin Day or Mao day or Money day or shopping day or whiskey day. It’s the Birth of Christ. It’s the Birth of the one who said Love God and Love Your Neighbour as Yourself. So the Big Man and Big Woman Killed him along with all the people who couldn’t put Humpty Together . God Creates. Good m’en and women create. Bad boys and girls destroy.  The Creator came to earth and we killed him.

 I killed him. You killed him. We killed him  There’s only Now. Time is the illusion of mind. On this  day of the Birth of Jesus there was the Crucifixion and the Death of Jesus and the Resurrection of Jesus and God.  It’s all in the seed.  The idea of Love. 

Love God and Love your Neighbour as Yourself.

Love God and Love your Neighbour as Yourself

Love God and Love your Neighbour as Yourself.

That’s what Baby Jesus is all about. It will probably get you killed. you won’t be popular.  The nations of the world, all the United Nations,all the Prime Ministers and Presidents,Politburoes ,Priests ,No God Cults,Climate Change Cults , Drug Cults, Herb Cults, Nature Spirit  cults, Culture Cults, fuck baby cults and Kings and Queens aren’t going to much like you.  They’ll fake it.  Big people aren’t known for their humility.   

Jesus Christ is Lord.

Love God and Love your Neighbour as Yourself.

Today a Baby is Born.  

Hillsong United

Laura and I arrived at the Pacific Colliseum at the PNE in Vancouver an hour early thinking we’d stop for a bite before the concert.  Already the parking lots were filling and people were streaming in large groups to the grand old building.

‘Let’s go directly there. They’ll have hot dogs there, “ Laura said.  “This is where all the big rock concerts played when I was younger. Vancouver didn’t have Rogers Arena then so the Beatles played here.”

Even though we had tickets the entrance line to pass security snaked around the building. It was a lovely sunny day with a fresh breeze off the nearby harbour.

What I first saw was colour.  Black people, white people, brown people, yellow people and red people were a poly mixture through the line and in the crowds. It became even more pronounced inside as we stood in the White Spot burger line watching the world pass through the entrance.  For those who speak so much about diversity and call everyone else racist,  usually the aetheists who use such words as a weapon, or the rainbow crowds, they’re usually white or white and brown but not at all like this incredible phenomena of true inclusivity. .  Christianity is the religion of the earth.  I see Muslims dominated by the Middle East beards and black curly hair with spattering of others in their midst.  The only place I saw such a polyglot of colour and people for Jews was in Tel Aviv one of the truly international cities in the world.  Asia is dominated by yellow.  Whole countries and continents I travel to are homegenously one or two colours and distinctly tribal. 

Vanilla is becoming another flavour in God’s great ice cream stand.  My favourite.  

The Phillipinos were out in the force here.  I shouldn’t be surprised.   Christian music is grand Karaoke.  Christians love to sing.  Our gospel says ‘in the beginning was the word’.  It’s scientific in it’s accuracy now we know the vibrations of the strings. Scientists even have looked to music of the spheres for their metaphors of life.  Here we lifted up our voices in song and praise.

Hillsong United burst into Christian awareness for me in the last 20 years.  Whenever I’d attend a singing church where the Bible is prominent I’d see a Hillsong in the repertory the congregation sang along too.  Alive, and present and repetitive, words taken directly from the Holy Bible, these Australians from down under simply got it right. It’s mesmerizing. It’s enchanting. It’s uplifting.  

Now I was sitting eating a burger and fries wondering how I ever got tickets so high. Almost needed a Sherpa to get here..  Thought I lost Laura half way up.  Began thinking of faith healing looking back at her wheezing and staggering up the mountainous stairs. I was praying my knee would hold out and I’d not spill my fries.  All around me people weren’t thinking of their stomachs but  celebrating God with song and praise.  It was so loud.  I’d arrived in heaven on the Baptist clouds with ten thousand voices singing praise, angels among them, the lamb in the room and my knee and my back hurt and  I was hungry.  I chowed down not waiting for Laura to do the final bit of this Grouse Grind.  Our God is a loving God.

In the dark  I’d found the flashlight on my iPhone and found our seats. Others were using their iPhone flashlights like candles like waving them about in the air. This beautiful pink haired woman was dancing in her seat beside me. Young people everywhere. Exuberant. It then occured to me we were definitely the very oldest people in the stratosphere.  There was no Emergency Oxygen and we really were dependent on faith and love. 

 This adorable toddler was being passed back and forth between mom and dad in front of me.  I could see the stage filled with light and love between the upraised arms.  Laura collapsed in the chair beside me. Another young woman beside her was dancing in the aisle. Behind us more beautiful young people celebrating God.

White Spot makes a great Original burger. The fries were delicious.  I know I have demons.  Laura offered me vinegar. We sat in a little huddle of delighted gluttony knowing it’s alright.  God loves us human. I had this huge Coca Cola too.  All around me people are dancing in the aisle and singing praise and the music is loud.  The whole arena is rocking.

Okay now I’ve eaten what next my being is saying. There fries are decadent.  There’s a tug inside me I notice too. A bit of me already wants to leave. This isn’t good. Sure sign I’m in the presence of God.  Not all that cozy warm feeling. Always some awe.  Laura is happy and sated beside me like a young seal. .  She’s already tapping her foot and moving to the music, a big smile on her face. She normally doesn’t like crowds. But my demons are acting up. I keep them as pets.  Silly of me.  Pride what it is. I’ve got them now telling me to get out. But it’s not claustrophobia or the masses of humanity around me. It’s the love. I’m unloveable. I’ve got bits of shame and guilt that keep me apart from fellow Christians. No one can understand me. I’m not loveable.

Yet that’s what they’re singing and the girl beside me is smiling. Laura said that the girl beside her would accidentally hit her as she danced and stopped and rubbed Laura’s  shoulder.  Spooky people.

I started to sing along. I was standing with my hands in the air thinking of Willi and Anita Gutowski and how much they’d love this. We’ve sung so much gospel together. Among the great worship teams of Saipan we sang these Hillsong themes.  I thought of Philip Ney and his love for Jesus and his campaign to save the unborn babies, crying on his knees begging Jesus to come. I thought of Bernie calling “Holy Spirit Come”.  Of course I was crying. I’m a fool. I felt like David dancing and singing for the Lord.  Hillsong opens that channel. The demons were silent in side me, anxious. Nice change for me to calm and the demons to be anxious.  Brought to mind C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters.  All the addictions and idolatries and rationalization and pride began to quiet down. I still wanted to escape but the love was holding me. I thought of my Mom beside me kneeling by my bed as a child, the her sister and her  singing praise. I looked beside me and Laura was standing and singing along.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if we had all broke into Kum Ba Ya. It was that strong a revival. Took me back to when we sang They will know we are Christians by our Love.  I’m taking pictures with my iPhone and the Australian singer on stage looks to me like Weird Al Yankovich.  I realize everyone is young and I’m feeling young. My knee and back don’t hurt and I’m dancing, dancing in my seats.  It took me a song to realize the words were flashed above the stage. I thought all these people around me had them memorized.  I’d just been to the Carrie Underwood concert and the young girls all knew the words and were singing along. This was better. I love cheat sheets. Half the reason I’m Anglican is they accept the demented in their midst and give us all weekly instructions.  We’re the people of the book.

I start reading the words and singing along.  It’s magnificent. I love the love.  I’m still crying. Tears flowing down my cheeks. Laughing.  EVeryone around me is too. The children are the best. They are there with their parents having a heck of time. Gilbert would love this. He’d be barking and chasing his tail. It’s that good a feeling. I’ve not known anything like it.  So much love. So many people singing. This is what heaven is like. It’s a piece of it here and now. A preemptive show.  A preview.  

I’m not so bad. God doesn’t make junk. Right now I can repent. I can get up tomorrow and do a better job. I love when they put up the word battles and say that I don’t have to fight alone. I’m always fighting evil alone. Struggling against the bad bits of government and the evil forces, the Satanic, the cruel and unkind, the mean and the lost and unbelieving. I’m always offering hope and being told there is none. I’m saying look at the light and being told it’s only for me and not for them. 

I’m reaching out a hand to stop a person dying and they’re spitting at me. I’m trying to help a stranger and they’re biting the hand that feeds. I’m struggling every day with adversity. I’m turning people back from the grave. I’m feeling like I’m standing on a cliff pushing individual lemmings back while the whole mass threatens to take us all over the side. I’m older too and I feel the burden of decades of being with the sick and forlorn. I’m the sinner among sinners.  I live in the hotel of God. 

 Now it’s the fentanyl epidemic. Now it’s the easier softer way of the government promises. Now it’s the ‘free drugs’.  I have a demon of self pity that eats at my happiness. Right now he’s not sticking up his head. Saint Michael is there and he’s protecting me even from my naughty friend self pity. 

I feel good and whole and wanted and loved and we’re all smiling and the music is fine and the room is rocking and the words are straight from the Bible. Promises after promises and I dont feel afraid.  My body feels like it does in a hot tub. I just feel my arms raised and my face in the biggest grin. And the woman beside me with pink hair is laughing with her friend.  We’re all laughing.  

Are you ready!!!!!!!!

Yes

Jesus.

Yes.

I buy swag on the way out. I like my t shirt. It says “There is another in the fire”.  Thank you Jesus.

‘That was church on steroids’ says Laura when we’re back at my green mini pulling out of the parking lot heading back to the burbs. “ I loved all the voices. “. She’s glowing. I’m glowing. It’s a lovely ride home. That night I sleep like a baby.  

Mother Love

She is talking, matter of factly. The child is playing quietly beside her.  He is studying a book. She continues speaking adult to adult. But the child quiets for an instant and she reaches across to him touching him. He continues to turn pages. It’s a brief second. Like a ignition switch touch.  Two spines entwined. I’m outside of this. The adult talking to another adult. One whose body held this child with hers for short of a year. But now still connects with a spiritual umbilical chord.  The child is comforted by the touch. Goes on with his childishness.  HIs mother is close. All is well in his world. She is beautiful in her grace

I sometimes feel this with God. My own mother long dead.  Overworked.  Used up, depleted. Spent. Sweet in death as in life.  Now there are moments when I’m comforted by synchronicity and sacredness. It’s not the same. But it’s as close as I can come long past the age of this child, this side of the other place, called haven. Where my mother is.  

Genius and Psychosis

Thanks to very fine teachers I used my time in training on call studying the long history of psychiatry.  I read the original works of Jung and Freud , Reich, Adler, and later Frankl, Menninger, Erickson.  It was in their personal writings that so many of the most profound insights were recorded. I love R. D. Laing living with Schizophrenics and the original community projects and other experiments that clarified modern ideas of mental illness.

 Today too much emphasis is placed on the ‘evidence based’ scientific study since it’s inherent limitations are the money and selection of the research that such studies so commonly are designed for.  Clearly the Grant Study like the Framingham study, prospective studies with profound insight are a step above so many others.

I liked the original observers who questioned matters like ‘secondary gain’ and considered the ‘advantages of insaneity’ and why it persisted.  What ‘value’ did these states have.  The disease model has been so fixed on eradication without consideration of the benefits.  The studies of distribution and the genetic studies of the turn of the century showing a crazy aunt or uncle in the attic of all the greatest of the New England seaboard were that kind of insight.

I liked the the studies which showed the relationship of genius to Schizoprehnia.  What was the difference between the grandiose idea of the manic depressive and the grandiose idea of the great creator, statesman or artists. 

Today there’s a beurocratic emphasis on the median and mediocrity whereas that was not always the case.  I fear that the end of the world is more likely to follow such stultifying reductionism than it is to any cataclysmic world event.  There’s a wearing tedium to this safe thinking and safe behaviour and emphasis on safety that has been shown associated with the fall of great eampiers and not associated with the greatest breakthroughs. Science is the world of wonder and daring whereas too often the politics of today is based on fear rather than belief. 

In my own work with geniuses and with schizophrenics and manic depressives I’ve I saw  that often the only real distinction was in the outcome of the ideas as opposed to the variation. Both the ideas of a mad man and the ideas of a genius are equally frightening and alien. This explains the common concept of ‘awe’ before encounters with God.  It is difficult to maintain an open mind and more easy to take the safer route of being closed minded.

Yet to the mediocre genius is wholly alien.  

Now having met folk who feel that eating their neighbours would be a great idea there’s limits to one’s open mindedness especially if one is the close most proximal neighbour to this ideology.  Yet that’s less a concern than the tendency to reduce the possible to the limits of the mediocre especially where there is fear and frank cowardice.  

Every day we live with miracles that would have had us shot, locked up or burnt at the stake were it not for risk taking and open mindedness.  I thinkit’s  important to embrace genius and also to have the humility to recognize that genius is commonly so much beyond the scale of one’s own conception. It’s childlike in wonder.  It’s birthplace is curiosity and I would add love.  

I truly am thankful to have had the privilege to have known genius, rare and wonderful and struggling to relate in a world where they are not the masses. To the majority, their genius was not so much as blessing as a curse.