Social Media

I withdrew from social media again.  I don’t feel safe.  It feels like the Maoist revolution is taking place and censorship has gone to a greater level. All I read about is persecution of celts and Christians and support of Hamas terrorists.  Meanwhile the ‘bots’ don’t see humor and declare humor as bad. It’s like the concrete thinkers of Paget’s intellectual development have declared the abstract thinkers the enemies.  It is appalling that the freedom convoy folk are still persecuted by the courts by the Antifida and BLM. Marxists domestic terrorists got a free pass. I hate how the BLM and Hamas people disrupted Pride parades and wanted the police removed.

I liked law and order. I don’t want the streets filled with bullying genuflecting gangs.  I believed there are sidewalks and roads and bike lanes and if people want to have prayer lanes then they can go to city hall and petition for them.  I believe in civilization but feel that is called hate speech today.  In England Christians are going to jail while rapists and pedophiles go free.  I fear that will come here.  The ‘catch and release’ program causes me to fear being on the streets. 

I’m old and being punched and kicked by a gang can break a hip or knee if not kill me. The idea of spending a year in physiotherapy to be able to walk again frightens me.  When I was attacked at lunch time by a fellow threatening to kill me and I stood up to him facing his muscular dance of threat and violence I left uninjured. It was a random thing. He’s a violent young man who cowardly attacks old men. The police could do nothing. It was a close call.  When I reported it the first question was ‘what did you do to provoke him’.   It’s the same question the Israelis seem to be asked after they retaliated again the terrorist attacks by Palestiania Hamas.  I exist.  Some people don’t want me to exist.   That shouldn’t be an IQ test especially when I’m phone 911 crisis line.  

So today I am afraid. 

I woke up and it was rainy and cloudy. I was grateful to be alive. I’m aware of time now.I sense an end which makes every day so much more precious. I don’t think I did, but it feel like I might have squandered some of my life as a youth, not realizing one day there might be a limited amount. I lived life like it was an endless ingredient, like I was immortal. My soul is. And yes I believe I will live beyond death. I could die each night when I go to sleep.  There are many considerations of perceptions.  Reincarnation, life after death, multiple dimensions.  I pray to know God and have the power to carry out God’s will. I want to know what God’s will for me is. I want to align my will with God’s .  Thy will be done.  

I started reading Sources of Christian Selff, edited by James Houston and Jens Zimmerman.  I’ve moved and this book surfaced. It was a Christmas gift from my friend John Chirisitansen who I dearly miss. Ir recently listened to the audio book Breathing Underwater by Richard Rohr.  John had given me the book years again and I’d read it then but enjoyed the audio book just as much. 

I sat and prayers on the rug in my new motorhome. I say the Lord’s Prayer to begin. I meditate on the repetion of a word and focuse on my breathing. I learned my meditation techniques from Paramahansa Yogananda through Self Realization Fellowship. I learned later that Augustine taught the same prayer techniques .  When I was in church it was all lecture and talk.  Simpler said, prayer is talking to God, meditation is listening.  I liked Herbert Benson MD’s research.  

There is still so much I have to learn.  I am greateful for this life.  There is love and fear and Jesus said do not be afraid. Yet when I look at the election and the politics of th world I realize it’s all about my pay grade and my interest is doom zooming. I’ve been watching social media for animals stories, and humor and beautiful models and cutting edge physics and technology and geography . But I will see a new absurdity and share it and be punished by a low brow who can’t appreciate a higher level of humor.  Every thing is a cognitive distortion in the censor police mind, black and white, ridgin , and no sense of the grey. 

I am by nature of my education, profession and age an extremely minority. I have the sense that social media is all about gangs and mostly that’s about set and violence.  Humor has no place in that world.  I remember when the joke about Marxist feminism was ‘what’s a feminist>’.  A woman without humor.  Now everyone is like Greta Thurnbery angry .  I remember a doctor saying ‘if you don’t see the problem I see on a blank page then that’s an even bigger problem.’  He has such a sense of humor.  

I’m going to walk the dog.  

I was upset to see a woman arrested for having pepper spray after fighting over a dark man who beat her and tore off her clothes but she escaped before he raped her only to have the police arrest her for having pepper spray. Meanwhile the next feed showed a man sexually violating the tailpipe of a parked car in public.  I remember the boy who shot the fellow shooting at him and how it was years before he was freed from the false accusations and terror that followed.

Just as Marxist and communist and nazi terrorism teachings the victim victimizer equation always goes to the ‘poor me’ of the victimizer. The psychopath always says you force me to rape and steal and kill .  There is no accountability in these political groups today. Justin Trudeau was the greatest gas lighter in parliament . I thought he should wear a white wife beater t shirt when he talke to women given his tone and arrogance.  But he’s gone and there’s is hope for less bad drama. 

Thank you God for my life today.  It’s raining and I was planning on walking the dog before the rain began and here I’ve spent time on fear and resentment.  I’m off in the dreary and so affected by sunshine. On sunny days I’m optimistic.  Actually it’s so beautiful, the lush green in the park outside that I really must appreciate how the plant must feel. They also like their carbon dioxide .  I’m enjoying Oxygen. I’m only taxed if I exhale .  Inhaling is great but I must not joke. That could get me fined or thrown in jail.  It was said the ones with real power are the ones who cannot joke about.  

My Jewish friend says he’s afraid to go out because he never knows whose whose waiting to be offended and from what century have the come.  We have immigrants now from countries who haven’t experienced the Magna Carta, others who object to the French and AMerican reovolution and so many who don’t believe is civil rights or the cultural revolutions of the 60’s and 70’s.  

These are confusing times. I just want to help people be well, over come their depression, anxiety and get free of drugs and alcohol abuse and know if their brain and body are well and it’s not them but the world that its off.  

Thank you God for this day. Thank you God for all your blessings.  Thank you Jesus

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.  

 

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,. 

 

Turn down day

During the week working I’m wishing i had time to do things. All I have is time and I look forward to the weekend with the thought of freedom.  I like work. It’s not the work. It’s not like I’m wanting to escape from work. It’s just that I sometimes fantasize about all the things I ‘could’ be doing.  This happens when I’m waiting for a call or at noon or in the evening.  

I’m stressed by work more as I seem to pick up the anxiety and despair in a way I didn’t younger, 

Now I’m at the cusp.  People ask ‘are you still working?’  “Are you going to retire?”  More and more I hear of friends dying too.  So I ask is this what I want to be doing? Is this what is the best use of my limited time? There is a sense now that time is limited. An illusion but a product of age.   Is this giving me joy and satisfaction?.  Am I doing what God wants for me?  

My problems are ‘Cadillac’ problems.  I’m alive, healthy, roof over my head, food in the fridge, work to go to, no significant debts.I’ve a mortgage but part of my having this home is to serve my work. If I stopped working I could sell this home, downsize and live off government pension and maybe do odd jobs.  I’m so weary of the government and beurocracy and their evil corruption. Nuremberg.  The banality of evil.

There’s an election coming. There’s a new wave of the Covid.  There’s taxation and inflation and never before have we have such a criminal traitor in power in Ottawa.  There’s a futility of dealing with clowns.  There’s a fear of growing old and becoming more dependent on the likes of our PM who let so many seniors die by incompetence and negligence. I would save more money for old age but there’s never enough to deal with government rapaciousness. They’re the mob.  Death tax. Tax on everything and skyrocketing inflation. The criminals and black marketeers are doing better than ever before like in all third world corrupt countries. I wasn’t prepared for the depth of evil that Trudeau would go to , punishing working Canadians and seniors as he has.  Then I think it’s just ‘fear’.  

The sun didn’t come out today. It was raining yesterday and today.  The fall and winter rain seasons are coming. I hate the doom and gloom of darkness and yet I so enjoyed and was blessed by the summer sun.  I don’t know if I’m prepared for the winter.  Sickness stalks the land in winter.  All the taxes on fuel mean costs of living continue to skyrocket.  It’s okay. I’m fine. There’s always the urge to catastrophize.

I actually imagined this weekend, getting into a dress and packing a travel bag and driving with my dog down to a dog friendly 4 star hotel in Seattle. Years ago I had a Kimpton Hotel weekend like that.  Skirts and blouses and manicures and shopping. Eating out in luxury restaurants. I could leave the dog for an hour or so and he was fine.  The Kimpton Hotels are LGBT and dog friendly.  I doubt my present puppy is ready for that. It was a frivolous weekend. I have had many such alone times over the years. Feeling safe in anonymity. 

In my conservative Christian circles I’m frowned on for cross dressing, sacrilege of sacrilege while all the church ladies have been doing this for decades,  But in my cross dressing LGBT circles I’m frowned on for being a conservative Christian.  Meanwhile people around me vote for Communists and ignore the millions they kill and enslave. Meanwhile the Taliban are raping and killing and 50 shades of Grey is okay because the man is a billionaire.  Political correctness is everything.  I don’t fit in I fit in. I’m in and out, I can play the game but the game is not real. I’m more interested in the Glass Bead Game. I’m playing hide and seek with God. 

In my life I’ve had the experience of a planet with an odd wobble. I’ve been celebrated in the path moving along with others only to continue my eccentric path and move out of the mainstream.  I spend decades mainstream and it’s called a ‘phase’. I’m constantly criticized for hunting and as a sailor it was okay to sail and party in the bay but becoming an off shore blue water salesman really meant I was crazed.  I like the groups I’m in but don’t like the critics.  I was a ‘poet’ when it was belittled and now my poet friends are mainstream.  

My latest craze is cross dressing. I’ve worn women’s clothes on stage. I’ve danced the female roles as a dancer. I’ve been in innumerable gender neutral roles and undertaken countless ‘pink’ tasks. I’m androgynous in that regard. I cook and sew and performed cunninlingus like a pro. I’ve given fellatio.   But I challenge the ‘social norm’.  In high school I was that guy who was a jock, an arts guy, and an intellectual and student council and I moved in all the circles. Today the same.  But I feel the contempt and hear the words of the administrators who want everyone to be as cowardly and afraid as them. The control freaks and the psychopaths in suits seem within me judging myself.  I’m enjoying this book I’m reading. Are you trans enough?” 

I’ve never been ‘enough”. I wasn’t good enough as a kid. Loud enough, tough enough, quiet enough. Man enough, gay enough, smart enough, Christian enough. And if I’ve been ‘enough’ one way I’m too much or too little some other way. I was never drunk enough and then I was never sober enough. There are always people comparing and criticing and I’ve taken in the loudness of it all. I’m critical of the government. They are bullies and liars and right now we are paying them and they are extortionists and theives, 

I tried to have the wife and kids. I did the right things. I bought the houses and devoted inordinate time to making money and repeatedly the courts or the government stole it from me and gave it to psychopaths.  I told the truth and the judge listened to the liars. I worked hard and my pay went to the support the corrupt.  I gave a life time of service and saw that caring for people in the front lines, clinical work, was mostly frowned upon. Those who spent their times in office , the bottom of the class, the politicers and smoozers got most rewarded.

It’s the poor me Trojan worm in my brain computer that’s a ‘go to ‘ refrain. The disgruntled poor me song played on the tiniest violin. I do gratitude daily to refrain from living in that bitter envious poor me place. 

 When I put on a dress it’s like I don’t have to ‘fight’ anymore. Dozens of times there have been major emergencies, crisis, fights, people being beat up, girls being raped, car crashes, gangs….and I’ve stepped out of the crowd, alone and confronted the situations, leading for the good.  It was like the first life saving situation on that beach in Toronto where 1housands watched and only a half dozen of us assisted in saving the drowning woman’s life.  Age 16 and now a half century more later it doesn’t change.

 I’ve been first out of  the trench.  I look back now and see the fat cat leaders with guns and their guns are to shoot us.  We’re sent in against the enemy without pay and without guns and told to get the guns of the fallen.  Only occasionally have there been women in those situations and I’ve loved those women.  There rarer among the women than I am among the men.  The last time I was first to an emergency the ‘masses’ were filming it with their phones and thank god for the woman who joined me in saving the life and told the others to stand back.  

I’ve lived among idiots and only realized it when so many voted Trudeau. I felt like I was in the 30’s in Germany watching my friends back the stupid little corporal who was an idiot.  Idiots love power and go on to abuse it.  I’ve fought idiots all my life.

Wearing panties and a bra and a dress and high heels I simply don’t think it’s my place to fight. I’m an old lady when I’m out cross dressed and I just want to have fun.  I love going to the spa and paying for people to serve me, to have my hair done, my nails done. As a man I suppose I could have gone for massage but men mostly are served by surgeons and doctors.  We injure our backs carrying the luggage of women and children and the elite. We get cut and shot defending the home.  I sing the song ‘I’d rather be a hammer than a nail.” 

I learned that the US Canada border was still closed and the idea of a lazy weekend , road trip and nice hotel was off. It wasn’t really a plan.  

I like the sense of being ‘bait’ too. Being a girl is ‘fishing’. I’m a pretty lure, a worm, trolling through the market.  I like to hunt as a man. I pick out the game I want and shoot it because it stops and looks back. I’m the one who decides what to shoot though the deer might want to be found. I sometimes say I provide euthanasia to the suicidal deer.  As a man I’m a sniper.  When I was young, walking around was a risk because there were all these guys looking to prove themselves not a few guys who were really mean.  I’d get the girls and they’d want to beat me up and I won a whole lot of fights. It was okay until the Marxists feminists usurped women’s liberation and egalitarians and began to celebrate the lying sociopaths like the Trudeau ‘s who claimed they were feminists when they were beating women up and paying off little girls they abused.  The whole Marxist Communist gig,the left wing shickt is to say one thing and do the next. It’s second nature for the godless to lie.  

Then the same sorts were in the money games.  I had to deal with administrators who ‘lied’ and stole documents and threatened me in person and in committee.  I survived them. I did my time and just tried to do my job. I was a clinician. Like a welder I was just going my trade. I was aconstantly paying huge amounts of money to the authorities for protection so I could do my job and collect my pay and the authorities increasingly sided with the criminals and psychopaths. Today I pay these extortionists so they don’t burn down my home. They’ve got guns.  They deserve no respect.  They are unethical and evil.  

So I pray.  

I like walking downtown and feeling the wind under my skirt  that the most I have to fear is a purse thief. I’m camouflaged. I’m unarmed thanks to the criminal leader. I don’t have a purse gun. If I defend myself I’ll go to jail I’ll lose my time playing lawyer games.  My blind dog and I were threatened, I will kill you and I will kill your dog. He said over and over.  I’ve been told this a dozen times venomously by young men who I simply stared down and faced and prepared to kill.  I am too old for a second round. I’ve paid millions in taxes to the public purse to have ‘safe’ streets to be able to go to work ‘unmolested’.  I’m scared still.  One young man sophisticated in the system went to the administration and complained that I woulfn’t help him even though there were witnesses and he was threatening to kill everyone .  The administration, cowards and con artists, low life worse than him,  beat me up to protect themselves.  The police did nothing.  

If I’m wearing a dress i imagine that I could have a man find me attractive, strange as that may seem, and at worst I’d have anal sex. It’s not that bad. I was raped and no one cared and indeed like most things it was my fault and I shoulfn’t have been there and I shouldn’t have smoked dope and I shouldn’t have trusted the powerful.

The Bible teaches us the government killed God’s son.  

God doesn’t care if I have Sex with consenting adults male or female. God doesn’t care if I masturbate.  It’s really clear what Jesus talks about. Ideally you marry and have children. But in the great kahunna, the great line is ‘God had nothing to say about women in business suits.”

Half the children of divorce their fathers are not the fathers. The courts refuse to do DNA testing on children of divorce.  The church ladies looking down on the lustful are the overweight gluttons.  Sloth is the go to Netflix sin of the day.

I ‘ve walked the dog a couple of times. I’ve got this day off. There are all kinds of things I should do:

1. Clean the house.

2 Wash the vehicles

3.  Write a novel

4. Complete the applications I began last year for various titles I’ve earned but bureaucrats have put up extortion rackets around so I have to do all these wasteful paper hoops 

5. Volunteer at the local political party again. 

6.  I prayed and meditated but both Gandhi and Martin Luther King said if it’s tough day spend more time on your knees. I pretty much pray unceasingly as it is. I’m always talking to God in my head, in my journals.  Guide, me Thy will be done.

7.  I was looking at electric folding bikes and got side tracked by an electric skateboard . I’m ambivalent and don’t need to spend the money. I love my Vespa in town.  But next week I’ll have the thought I should have looked at electric bikes on the weekend when I had the time. I won’t dwell on it.

8 I should get out. Go for a ride . Take madigan on the bike down to Commercial and have cofee. But it’s raining , spitting. Sitting out side writing nonsense is not that attractive in the rain.  People watching isn’t so good. With the dog along I need to sit outside.  

I could just read for a bit.  Soon it will be noon.  .  I feel like I’m wasting my day, Yet it’s no big deal. Cadillac problems.  I”m procrastinating doing a lot of things I think that I could be doing. I got my bow from the storage locker and I could be testing it before the actual hunting days but I usually use the first day of the hunt to site in and all that. 

Next step is to have a shower. Maybe that will inspire.

Covid and Canadian Communism

Communist China released the chimera virus from the Wuhan lab, killed the whistle blowing doctors then disappeared Hong Kong freedom demonstrators, while Canada continued to give Xi Linping millions of ‘aid’ and set up Chinese Huawei 5 g systems throughout the country.  5 eyes alliance considers Justin Trudeau a security risk. He wont travel to the states.  He hardly leaves his mother’s basement.  His eyes look like saucers,.

I’m still afraid. I’m listening to people struggling daily now and it’s systemic corruption.  The level of distraction increases.  I find myself at times unable to shake the sadness.  All day I hear of the business losses, the unemployment, the fear of the future, the threat of war. The incompetence of leadership at the federal level, and all the paid riots and civil war against America remind me of the history I read of pre WWI, the pro Hitler forces WWII and the Maoist Revolution.  It’s same story different names, 

 ‘I will not fear financial insecurity.’  Yet the future at times looks bleak.  Jesus commanded ‘Be not Afraid’. So ‘worrying is wicked!”  I remember in a particularly bad blow off the north of Vancouver Island, high seas and wind, night falling and the sailboat taking on water.  My older Christian sailing friend was at the helm.  I was bailing in the cockpit below him. We’d been discussing the Bible the night before.  “Are we wicked yet,” he asked with a pirates gleam.  We were definitely wicked

I’m feeling wicked these days despite all my training and experience. 

I think I’d like a sex change. I’m weary of warrior William and defending women and children.  I’m tired of seeing all the deaths by abortion and the knowing the wealth of abortionists. Bad women have lied and Miley Cyrus rides her ‘wrecking ball’ . Eva Brawn rises from the dead.  At least Stalin’s wife killed herself.  Mao’s Jiang Quing was the ugliest dirtiest stupidest woman of history.  Now Peng Liyuan is the most disgusting disease of a woman the world has ever known.  She smiles as she celebrates her husbands murdering innocents, spreading the stink and contagion of her filth all over the world.  

Peng Liyuan is Eva Brawn.  Worse.

I don’t like Sophie Trudeau but she’s not the evil that Peng Liyuan is. Sophie is just a shallow disgusting trashy bit of self centred fluff who married a stupid stoner without principles, heart or brains. A tool. Sophie’s like Margaret, his mother who oozes entitlement now. 

The Charbonneau Enquiry confirmed that Quebec and Montreal and McGill University are ruled by mafia and biker gangs.  SNC Lavalin is now linked to the Picton Farms cannibalism and the child sex trafficking of Libya.  The head of CSIS says that the Communist Military has infiltrated Canadian education, media and government to the highest level. I talk to immigrants who have escaped ruthless totalitarian regimes like Canada is fast becoming.  They say they don’t know where to go now.  “I never thought it would happen so quickly here.” The Venezuelean grandmother weeps, telling her sons the horrors they have escaped. I remember all the refugees I saw telling of rape, theft and murder.  The Iranian girls raped by the Moslem religious police. The Vietnamese women stripped of all their wealth and raped in trains, the only thing remaining, a diamond drilled into a molar.  Freedom’s ‘just another word for nothing left to lose’.  It’s the lull before the storm.  

I read about a mother Kingfisher defending her eggs from a snake and began to cry.  I remember my mother at times like this.  I miss the strength of women of her era like Mrs. Churchill.  

My Aunt Sally was a soft, brilliant, stylish, tough executive assistant. She flew all over the world. She especially loved attending Baptist Conventions.  She was executive assistant to  the Canadian Ambassador in Washington during the war. I loved to listen to her stories.,  She was my favourite Christian. She and her gorgeous  girlfriend, Babe, the Executive Assistant to the Head of Esso.  When I visited Toronto and stayed with them as an older boy, they always made me laugh.  The two of them were so eye catching, glamorous  and confident. They reminded me always of that picture of Marilyn Munro and Rita Hayworth.  

Mom was the beautiful solid family woman. Her older sister was the wild single divorcee, I remember in the highest heels and the deepest red lipstick. They were two sides of Christian women.  Dad even suggested once that she and Babe were lovers.  He didn’t think she liked men much.  Dad liked the husband she divorced.  He was a good sort, “Your aunt didn’t want to be married to a man,” he said. “She was more interested in the Mrs. than the man.”  He didn’t say it unkindly, They were best of friends and he loved when she visited Mom because she was happiest when family was all together.    My aunt divorced and never married.  She had a rich network of beautiful single or divorced Christian women friends,  with Babe as her constant companion. Maybe they were just celibate. I’ll never know.  She lived in a building with gay men friends so over the years I’ve wondered. I realize that the gay people I knew growing up were always around 1-2 % of the society is a significant number.  Looking back I remember the coach, the gym teacher, the women neighbour. There wasn’t discrimination. When the adults spoke of them it wasn’t with disdain but rather like saying, “they’re Ukranian’.  

It’s funny now that I contemplate a sex change seeing nothing in the future for old single Christian men.  It’s not surgery I think of but  more like switching teams. Heterosexual has become as dirty a word as Christian.  Social communism calls anyone successful ‘oppressive’.  The greatest oppressor of Hocky was Goretsky, the dirty disgusting white privilege symbols, whose legs and hands would be cut off today’s to allow Antifida, Gender Students and BLM get ahead.  Intersectionalism and the liberalism of Justin Trudeau. Good old Biological Darwinism.  They won’t be satisfied till all Conservative men and women are castrated so maybe I should do it myself.  No one admits that one of the attracctivions of transsexualism is ‘identification with the aggressor’.  Stockholm syndrome and the gender wars.  

I find myself reflecting on those outsiders I knew growing up.  The lesbian couple who lived down the street. The gay men I knew in the dance world. I’d been the golden boy and like my friend passed all the male tests of masculinity.  I wasn’t able to protect my own child from abortion.   I was ridiculed for even caring and condemned for trying,. I envy the joy I know my friends who are grandfather’s feel today.  That’s the greatest accomplishment for men.  Like the mothers and grandmother’s who tell me their greatest accomplishment and love despite their awards and diplomas are their children and grand children. Family. Communism does everything to stamp out family, It’s the principle threat to the aetheist God of State. 

 I  know that the suit jacket and jeans I wear are based on the British uniform and the country work clothes. I’m weary of being a target.  All that fighting the good fright for others has worn me down.   I feel free in silk and have a sense of the lightness of being in a skirt or dress.  I like sandals and summer clothes rather than the heavy winter wear. I miss the tropics sailing in only shorts or shirtlesss in a sarong.  There seems no merit in the role of older childless single Christian man.  I’ve done my time as a monk. I discussed joining a monastery again but really don’t want to be a celebrate and love my own barbecue. 

 I’ve lived the life of a boyfriend.  It’s a good service position.  I’ve been a husband to angry entitled wives. Marriages begin well and years of bliss one day change and the criticism began.  I really believe I’ve known 20 years of great marriage all together but the three years of divorce, the smug judges and the years of rebuilding, I can’t do another Canadian marriage.  I think it’s my job. They could wear one mood and one face in the home and smiled so sweetly outside, switching on and off.  I just never felt I left the office.  I lasted years in the asylum when they’d refuse to get help and their sicknesses got worse. They found someone or some group that blamed me. The courts always blamed the man. I was always the wife as well as the principle provider working several jobs and in the end taking care of the sick one, trying to cover for her addictions,   I’ve been a wife for decades to professionals and never was ‘good enough’. There was constant criticism in the end.    I remember she wanted a bigger house.  We’d just bought her a house. But they bought a bigger house and now our house didn’t survive to have two cats in the yard.  I served,  did my time and frankly, in the end, it seemed best not to disagree.  The consequences were unforgiving.  90% good times in marriage but the 10% bad was not worth it in the end.  Three strikes you’re out.  I married in the end for children only to find they didn’t want children too. It’s not like I didn’t say this either. “I thought you’d change your mind. I never wanted to have children.” said the princess. 

I hear the song in my head ‘girl’s just want to have fun’ and think yes, that’s what I want.  I wonder  to if I’m missing that summer of 69.  I sometimes reflect back on the hedonism and frivolity and community of silly love and peace when I was naive and really did sing Kumbaya.  I smoked dope with the most beautiful girl in the world and we had such fun till the summer of years ended and we both went our separate ways.  I was always searching for God in all the wrong places. 

Divorces were the nails in the coffin. More so was the call to serve.  A clear message in a chapel and the certainty that I was doing God’s will in my work and service. My ex wife hated that I worked in the north with the natives. They admired the suburban doctors and the high rise suited clinicians who acted like lawyers and accountants and never wore the white lab coat outside the office. They hated the calls I took at home and established their practice in university protected by the institution and safe in the centre of the herd surrounded by men and women who protected this main military unit. I was out beyond the wire, in the wilderness, too many nights alone, afraid, always afraid. A scout. At best militia.  I volunteered.  They were smarter and didn’t.

I thought I could treat her addiction getting her away from her home. I thought I could lift her out of the misery of her past. I thought that we could be free to serve as doctors and all that sordid family addiction, their heroin and alcoholism and the suicides and death of their families would be behind us.  But it wouldn’t work. She came back to that and the lies and the all night long abuse. I loved that scene in the movie where the guy had to work the next day and the wife was keeping him up all night on coke.  

I sometimes reflect back on the betrayals and communists destruction of family, Marx and Engles insisting that the State must rule. I remember asking for help.  It’s all so long ago.  The betrayals and the lies and the psychopaths and sociopaths and gratitude. I survived.  I carried on. I was blessed to have men and women who were older and wiser and more experienced to talk to. My brother and family were there for me too. No one blamed her.  Men mostly blame men. Women blame men too. 

I prayed and meditated and paid off the debts she’d created and again built a life afraid of the violence of women, their lies and the mob and their protection in the courts.  I was wrong too,  but found my self saying,  like Lear, “I’m more sinned against than sinning,” Then I met my friends, a band of brothers, all who had scars from divorces and sisters and the evil tyranny of beurocrats and corrupt government and the lie of booze.  They’d known drunken judges and evil dictators. We’d all let our guards down. We had all been fools.  We laughed.  God how we laughed.  All of us falsely accused.  One with a dozen scars from knife attacks and broken bottles across his head and the woman was the ‘victim’. She said she was ‘oppressed’ , took his house and money and his reputation. I was cuckolded but he was utterly smeared by her lies.  We met women who like us had been deceived. They didn’t think it was gender. This new adult class of women, not the girls of feminism, the real women, the ones who looked at good and evil and felt they’d failed as well.  We were sinners and the groups now had neon signs saying ‘thou shalt not judge’. 

Jung described Animus and Anima.  There was further the good feminine and the bad feminine, the good male and the bad male of myth.  It’s a thin line and years of studying philosophy and theology I learned that attachment and love were together , like courage and fear.  We are all Adam and Eve.  The stories are of ourselves.  In this moment I’m alone and all the stories are mirrors of myself. I am the married and the divorced. I’m dancer and the dance to quote Campbell.  Emerson summed it up with his poem, the red slayer. ‘If the red slayer thinks he slays, or the slain thinks he’s slain, they know not well the ways I keep and turn and toss again.”  If she’d wanted to kill me I’d be dead,  We loved, not the thin love of Canada but the love of ancient passion.  

My memory of her hurting me is balanced by my forgetting her being hurt by me. She was physical. I was emotional.  The joke about Sado Masochism goes, What does the masochist say, “beat me, beat me’....what does the sadist say, “no’.

It’s all coupled and only the stupidity and ignorance of the courts which are only interested in money could reduce the spiritual and love to the merger and sordid. The Canadian Courts are Marxist too, shallow, new and without depth. The greatest couple studied by science, asked if they thought of divorce, answered,  “divorce never, murder yes.”  Communism is devoid of passion. It’s just one dimensional. Everything is power. Lizard brain entertainment.   Commitments don’t exist in communist countries. There’s only single people there. 

For depth you must have family.  Discussing the religion of Hinduism and Buddhism, the Jain told Laura and I  that the Hindu Buddha has his eyes open and the Buddhist Buddha had his eyes closed. One is the religion of the family and the other of the individual and monk. I studied with Christian monks and loved the Greek Orthodox man who gave me a cup of tea and a cookie while I sat with him in my heels and grey skirt, white blouse and grey jacket.  At that moment we were disciples beyond gender.  I felt like Jesus and that he was Mary. Martha had made the biscuits.

Inside of us are all the stories of our being, the play of our family and marriages and families and friends and work relations.  My native minister friend loves to close her prayers with ‘all my relations’ and laughs at the tales of the ‘two spirits’.  I think of Bukaroo Bonzai and Raiders from the 8th dimension, the catholic trapped by his past in the wall and lost with the aliens.  Transformations and transitions and the comfort of being inside. 

I’ve been blessed as a healer. I’ve felt like the Channel of St. Francis.  I’ve hidden the stigmata of my hands and feet and been afraid to be exposed.  As long as people focus on ny saying ‘fuck’ I feel I’m safe but not so much now.  Communists are too closed and sick to ‘fuck off’.  They mowed the Tibetan monks down with machine guns.  The Dalai Lama was the child they sought to kill but he escaped to India just as Herod had wanted to kill Jesus but he escaped to Egypt.

Now the abortionists don’t take chances. They kill all the babies before they’re born. The satanist who love sex with children and eat human flesh can’t afford to have a messiah born again or the return of the Messiah.  The mark of the beast is on them. Revelations is showing in the stories of the land.  I prefer the image of the Borg.  I see the left wing Liberals demanding we all assimilate. That’s the lie of communist speak, 1984, the hypocrisy.  Animal Farm. Goebbels said just tell a bigger lie.  Walls are no good say all the corrupt with their own walls. Guns are no good say all the corrupt with their own guns. The young like the words. Das Kapital and the Communist Manifesto read pretty but adult life is messy and behaviour tells. I’m becoming Klinger in the story of MASH.  I’m not a woman. I’m a man. But I don’t want to wear uniforms anymore.  I don’t want to wear sensible shoes.  I’m too old for heels too.

The world is sad and afraid. I’m sad and afraid. ‘Steal a little and they put you in jail, steal a lot and they make you king.’ Samuel Johnson paraphrased by Dylan. ‘What’s a good girl like you doing in a place like this.”   Communists have always killed half their countries and taken the best. Kill the rich and give to the poor is their slogan.  Kill the rich, ‘ they say, then they give to themselves’ In my mind I’m poor knowing the wealth of the wealth. “Feel the Bern” Bernie said with his many mansion

 Xi Linping has his many duchaus and private armies.  I’m rich though, compared to the homeless addict so he’s told that I’m the problem. Communism destroys the middle class. Marx was a black and white thinker.  He never understood history..  He had no depth.  A Kafetch,.  The moderates like the Mensheviks and parliamentarians died before the Molotov Cocktails and guns of he Bolsheviks.  Lenin, Stalin, Molotov and Trotsky made short thrift of them just like the Communist Chinese genocided Tibet and now are murdering the geniuses of Hong Kong.   He who forgets history is doomed to repeat it.

I mostly feel like a voice over on a comic strip. I struggle with the physics of time and free will and determinism.  The Big Bang theory and God.  It’s easier to follow the programming. Don’t deviate. Internalize the terror.  I think of Walden Pond and Thoreau and civil disobedience.  These thugs and killers soil the name of Martin Luther and Mandela.

I’m a coward.  Courage is overcoming fear. I did that as a man and fought all the good fights and never backed down. I fought for the safety of my patients. I fought for my friends. It began in school fighting bullies and protecting nerds and girls.  I’ve been shot at too many times and stabbed and faced too many gangs as an adult. I found walking in high heels on Davie  street,  being targeted by a car load of thugs,   I gained  new admiration for women in their vulnerability. The brown thugs brutalized a smaller gay man that night He was in the news. My friend Laura is tiny by comparison.  She’s shown such courage in her life.   I loved the courage and valour of the pregnant girls, I new,  especially in all the  deliveries, I did.  

I loved my father. He was the greatest man I knew. I miss him but I’ve found myself missing my mother and how she held me as a child.  The safety that was there. 

Feminism never celebrated women. It celebrated girls who acted like men.  I was a women’s liberationist and still am. I believe in meritocracy and love that my friend did plastic surgery better than I did. We put it down to her tiny hands and love of delicacy. I liked the heavy handed surgery and planned to do general surgery or orthopaedics.  She sewed. I chopped wood. We were friends. There never was competition. Yet all my life I’ve suffered from lesser women who wanted to compete with me. My equals and superiors never bother. I compete against myself as do they.  We stopped competing with others back in our teens. Adults compete with themselves.  

There is no benefit for a man in competition with a woman ,but there is no loss for a woman who loses a fight with a man.  It’s all in the light weight and heavy weight and professional boxing.  Now I’ve a BA student who wants to tell me, a doctor-doctor-doctor , what to do. It’s the same thing.  Communism.  Marx loved that he ‘turned Hegel on his head. ‘  The politics of the fringe. The night of the long knives the brown shirts raided the sex institute and destroyed all the files. Antifida and BLM are the Brown Shirts today.The Leader of BLM was a sex trafficker and a Marxist.  Same playbook ,  different day. 

A black woman dressed me in high wedgies and a short skirt, Jamaican colours, yellows, reds and blacks. I wanted to make a pilgrimage to Stonewall.  The girls in pink beat the boys in blue.  The photographer owner of Faces of New York followed me for blocks begging me to let him take my picture for his book. I regret that I said no today. At the time it was a personal thing.  I’d been raped and it was called ‘just busting his cherry’.  I didn’t care any more. I’d met so many people who’d lost legs and arms and brains but then and wanted to stop the silly.  I sat in the bar drinking coffee and watched the drag show with all the rich young people dressed in power clothes. They never knew the 60’s.  They didn’t know history.  I remember the sound of the bullets going by my ears as the passing car full of rednecks shot at the long haired hippy.  I never ran faster that time the Saskatchewan boys picked me up hitchhiking and told me that they’d given me a ride because they’d always wanted to beat on a long hair. I jumped out of the moving car and ran through the cornfields with three older guys chasing me with baseball bats.  I”m so thankful I was fast.  

I loved the book Pink Zwastica and the discussion of the sexual deviance and pedophilia in the SS. The Mexican sheriff over tequila told me he wasn’t a homosexual, “I have too much sex for women alone. I have to fuck boys and girls.  I am a real man.”  The man who had come out of prison after years told me “I’ve never been gay. I fuck men but I’m not gay.’

The Nazi killed the effeminate.  Those were the gays the Nazis jailed and sent to their death in Auschwitz..

I treated Sadists and Masochists.  The women who loved to cause pain and torture were to my mind the worst. They sometimes used men. I was shocked working in the jails and with the dangerously insane.  Those with Governor General warrants were a real education. I have often thought the teachers in liberal arts schools and political scientists should be required to spend some time there just like we used to get gang teens to tour the jails to meet the real criminal world. I’ve met such trash and heard such bullshit out of the ignorant and naive who teach at the university.  Psychopaths would just as soon eat you as talk with you. There are terms, ‘educable’ and ‘trainable’; for a reason.  But drugs trapped people in their minds and so many people can live in bubbles and the internet now unites us with our kind whatever that is.

I’m not alone but I’m an outsider and I’m thankful for Gladwell’s writing and others.  

Today I’m hoping to get my desk. I have to remove the couch to make room for it. I will shower first.  I’ll have another cup of coffee later.  I like walking the dying dog. I take my camera and get pictures while he lingers over scents, blind and sore. We both walk stiffly at times. It depends on the weather. 

  

Dreams in a Pandemic

Covid 19 continues like fires that raged last summer.  Each day there is new news.  Finally borders closing.  Corrupt politicians insider dealing with the information. Lies coming out of Communist China. Fakes news and rotating narratives.  Each day we feel better.  Only a few weeks of this high alert. The wave will hit us and pass in one to two months. Reminds me sailing solo in the middle of the Pacific waiting for the hurricane to hit.

I was booked for the Transgender medical conference.  It was cancelled.  I was booked for Esprit, the annual May transgender conference. I’d  hoped to be going. Lighter hearted. Less afraid. I’d bought a baby blue spring jacket for the occasion.  I wonder when and where I’ll wear it. These times are more pyjamas at home or cammo in the streets days. Not a time for high heels. Big girl panty times. Where’s the fun in that.   

There’s that fear that something will burst. But there have been no riots.  Order prevails.  Our local government with Mr. Horgan and Mr. Dix are doing admirably.  Nationally the government has been as silly and out of step as funny walks of Monty Python but provincially we’ve been saved by reason and maturity. Even the Vancouver City mayor is hearing the concern of the majority of citizens and reassuring us that there will be order.  Our Vancouver Police are the best.

The tension is palpable. The city is a ghost town. All the seasons tickets to theatres and concerts have been cancelled till June. I have front row seats to the Guess Who in July. I’m so glad. I watched and listened yesterday to Burton Cummings doing a real time on line concert from his home.  “I will sing a rhapsody”, he sang. .  How beautiful and uplifting.

I went by the meat store and bought a week or so of protein provisions for my adopted family.  The man is so hard working.  Each day despite the times he goes out to work construction necessary for the city.  So many workers like him now being recognized as the unsung hero’s.  We must have roads. His beautiful wife is home with the children and the new baby. I loved seeing Gilbert’s little friends. It was sad that they couldn’t play. The little girl wanted to hug him and me but we kept our distance.  I drove away thinking that in these tough times one family will have a feast.  So much extra home costs and runs on stores a concern.  I had my own steaks too.  Barbecues will work even after infrastructure lapses. My freezer is on electricity and propane.

Gilbert and I had the best charbroil steak with potatoes and butter and sour cream. I drank tonic with quinine.

More texting.  Calls to patients.  Refilling prescriptions. I’d done the methadone clinic already that morning keeping the essentially medications to my patients most at risk. Helping pharmacist serve this most debilitated population. 

I’d been to the ophthalmologist and obtained my new RX. I was down to my last pair of glasses. Now thanks the One Time Optical folk I’ll have a couple of new pair next week.  Less squinting. I’m thinking of things like this. If the city closes down or disease quarantines us or there’s shortages for months, what essentials do I need.  Glasses.  I was glad to get my laptop to my friends. I’ve a new one and didn’t need the old one. I have a back up ipad and they had one everyone used. Now they are more secure with more entertainment choices for the children.

Having sailed solo on oceans I’m used to survivalist thinking. I have a hand held Hamm radio in storage. A trip to the locker might be an idea.  I’ve hand held radios.  I tell families that you don’t want members going off without a cell phone or a radio.  We need to keep in touch. Survivalist thinking. The real thing, not the often silly tv drama. 

I keep my gas tank in the car filled.  I have the motorcycle. I’m going to check out the bicycle soon.  Grease it up.  It’s good to think ahead. Get essential repairs done while shops are still open. Certainly the local businesses can use the work and all one has to do is maintain social distancing but only for essentials. I told my friend to phone a garage and drop off the car leaving the keys and walk home paying by credit card and picking it up later.

It’s a slower paced world.  I am walking more and its healthier. I may return to a svelte shape rather than the pear I’ve become.

Last night I dreamed wonderful dreams. They were my recurrent place.  I’ve these places that I go to in my dream world .I believe they exist in the afterlife and the parallel world.  This one is the peninsula where my sailboat is. I’m sailing and at a marina. In this dream I’m actually flying in a balloon looking down at the expanses of ocean where great wooly sheep are running in the hundreds on the water or perhaps in shallows. The feelings I’m having are like the ecstasy I felt trade wind sailing all alone in the middle of the South Pacific. Back at the marina the men all have rifles and scopes and groups are going out hunting moose.  There’s so many moose in the hills. I walk by a female and talk to a fellow who respects my age and maturity and says, “It will be my first moose I’ve shot.. Nothing new for you in this.”  I smile.  A bit like my father smiled at me. The young man learning and the old man teaching.  Sharing knowledge.  The great gifts.  Wisdom not things.  I’m comforted in the dream by the families and mutual care. I’m with a woman I think I know , but she comes and goes in my dreams, probably afraid to stay.  I’m a fairly dangerous dude in all ways. I think I’ll shoot a moose in the afternoon. I hear one in my mind talking to me.  He’s told me where he is.  I don’t have to go yet. The young man hopefully will find him but I’ve oiled my gun and put it in the quad by my sailboat. The snow capped mountains are beautiful in the morning sun .

Last week I was given cherry cake in my dream and it tasted like ambrosia in my dream. I can’t remember tasting in my dreams but this was exquisite. I imagine older with death staring at us all , war and rumors of war, the haunting streets, the anxiety and all the heightened awareness which comes with anxiety, I’m escaping in my dreams. I don’t fear death and am wondering if I’m preparing to come back as a woman in a next life. Maybe this is just self soothing. As a man I’ve always been provider protector always caring for everyone. We only played dress up in good times or safe in side. Outside among strangers it was always suited up, even armed. The men’s suit jacket based on the 19th Century British military jacket. Now old I prefer to live in pyjama bottoms. Not the satin of Hefner, more the red tartan flannel of the scot.

I believe early Christians believed in reincarnation. I’m living in a multi verse now.  My mind is not reality.  Reality is this present. The dreams may just be escapism. I’m so exhausted after the days of tension that I love my bed and falling asleep.

Today I’ve woken without cough or sore throat or fever or tight lungs. I love that I don’t have to be with the sick and can go about my day like I normally do on the weekend, avoiding people. During the week I’m too much with people so this is not new.

More cures announced. The science is amazing. The speed of research light years ahead of my youth experiences of previous epidemics. . Advances in technology. So much fun watching Moore’s law real time.  

Good leadership from Mr. Trump. Singapore and Taiwan so brilliant.  I love their hand held temperature scanner. A patient told me they have them in construction work.  Dr. Bonnie  Henry doing really well.  Great BC CDC site.  I think there’s more that Mr. Trump and the western world know about this Communist China created virus.  There’s war within war.  I wouldn’t put it past the communists to try to collapse the economy to get “One World Order’ with the greedy power hungry UN dictators in control.  

I joked yesterday when I heard that China might have the first vaccine.

  “Sorry,” I said.  “They probably made this virus. I woudn trust a vaccine they made. I’ll wait for one MADE IN AMERICA”.  

The truth be told I’d love the one being made in Saskatchewan.  But the Israelis and Aussie New Zealanders have them. In the meantime the treatments just keep rolling out of the research labs. Anti virals and hydroxy chloroquine. 

Sunday in March

Coronavirus - 19 is all in the news. My germophobia has kicked in .Normally I’m in denial, immortal, surrounded by disease, praying to God, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil.” But I do fear.  I have had a couple of flu this year, coming back from India and again this spring. I know the stats for Covid 19 aren’t terribly frightening given that the actual flu and lots of other diseases are more deadly. Yet I’m in that age category and am weary with coughing and disturbed sleep. I also think by the world response to this virus that there’s something we’re not being told.  That it was a weaponized virus escape from a Wuhan military complex seems reasonable or why else the massive response.  But then the fake news makes everything so dubious.
I didn’t make it to church again. Laura’s flu followed mine by a week and she’s still struggling much like I did a week ago. Now I’ve just a little sore throat and post nasal drip with fatigue.  I work with people and have indeed minimized my contacts with crowds. We went to the mall and were surprised at the empty shelves in Costco. There’s survival in the air.  I’m a survivalist so that much ahead of the game.  It will all blow over. A few weeks and then the next ‘skies falling, let me tax you more’ will begin.  The Trudeau government is spending the cupboards bare and literally raping the economy. Warren Buffet the Democrat has pulled away from Trudeau because of the insecurity. Business doesn’t want to invest. The billions of dollars of loss due to the government mismanagement of the blockades.  What’s next?
I’m praying.  I feel tired and have a sense that my life is ending. I’m past retirement age and for the first time in my life since I worked in a restaurant I’m going to work for a pay cheque. The College of Physicians and Surgeons shouted at me when I said ‘medicine was a calling and profession’ for me. “It’s just a job, Dr. Hay.”  They’re calling me a ‘health care worker’ and I find it hard not to just work at the lowest common denominator which is represented by the government.  The joke was always if you worked for the government you were ruined for real work because everyone works to rule and does the least except in times of real emergency.  The government jobs in medicine now are 2 and 3 times the value of clinical work.  I’m at the end of my career and really enjoyed the patients and the learning and the doing the very best I could. I loved taking the Hippocratic Oath and treating every patient as a challenge and child of God. I was moved by the missionary spirit but now I am told it’s a communist country and I’m just a ‘health care worker’ and I see that the laziest ‘health care workers’ are promoted. I think of Venezuela.  I loved medicine for the ‘meritocracy’.  I loved saving lives and helping get people well. I loved being on the A team. But now it’s all mediocrity and we’re rewarded for doing the least.  The specialists are literally told to see the patients no more than every 6 months even if seeing them more would be better health care. The bullying is both overt and subtle. I go to work afraid of the College police akin to the religious police of Iran or any other police organization intent on dominance, micromanagement and control.  Jack boot mentality. All the while trying to be seen as PC caring. It’s so facetious.  They hate doctors and don’t care for patients except in the ‘idea’. They live in a space station.  Then added to that is I’ve chosen to work with the most dangerous patients and least back up. So many unpredictable people in the world of drugs and alcohol. So many people want letters not to work and they simply aren’t sick in the traditional sense and some have other jobs, under the table, and new migrants seem to know the ropes the best.  Meanwhile I have no time for medicine and am coopted by the beurocratic mismanagement system to rubber stamp the money games.  Creating delays with paper and winning the gambles.  I’ve a certain jaded perspective and see the small number as the whole. The majority of people I know are overwhelmed by the stress of government waste and pressure. No one can afford housing. It’s so desperately sad. All these people with disability and on fixed income suicidal with rent evictions. At least the NDP brought in some rent increase restrictions but too late for the old people.  I see aging now as a medieval things. Doctors and engineers are going back to work.  My colleagues don’t even think of retiring because they’re paying exorbitant education costs for children at home in university.
Added to all this steady state ‘stuff’ is the fear of ‘contagion’.  It’s the plagues.  I didn’t get caught with the ‘climate change cargo religion lie’ we’re all going to die in 12 years because of the 97% consensus lies of the Communist IPCC but this latest collective fear mongering got me. I look at BREXIT and see them rejecting the invasion of violent young Islam migrants.  My patients tell me their families are afraid to leave home in France because of migrant muslim gangs attacks the old and the young boys and girls.  They live like prisoners in their country. Here we see less and less law and order, terrorists getting paid millions and no consequence for criminals blockading roads or destroying public property.  It’s mob rule.
I’m actually feeling fear shaking hands and touching people.  Jesus said, “Do not be afraid’.  Years of sickness catching up on me. The scabies in the north, all the pneumonias, catching TB from my patients, barely surviving the AIDS crisis with the demented aids biters like zombies chomping at my face and hands, now this latest.
It was good to hold Laura this weekend.  Hugging her. So what if she’s contagious as hell.  Then there’s Gilbert who rolls in dead fish and licks everyone and cuddles everyone. All this germ free behaviour is insane.
I was reminded of the WWI vet I treated my first year in country general practice. He’d been gassed on Vimy Ridge.  “The bullet had to have your name on it,’ he said.  The soldiers I know in my practice are much tougher stuff and have seen it all.  Like us doctors.  I’ve touched tens of thousands of sick men women and children.
I’m coming to terms with aging.  I am really looking forward to camping.  We contacted a campground we were at yesterday to see if we could reserve the spot we were at last year.  I loved the tranquility.  Just Laura and me and the dog.
I’m afraid of planes now too. I’ve no desire to fly. I look at friends in distant places and want to go to Ireland and Scotland but I don’t want to fly right now.  I’m weary of planes. I love my camper. I miss sailing.I’d love to be out on the ocean in the fair winds and following seas.  I’d love to be at anchor in the evening drinking coffee in the cockpit, scratching Gilbert’s back.
I really am blessed. I’ve walked Gilbert this morning.  The sun was shining. Spring is coming. Not fast enough. The virus doesn’t like the sun. I would love to be in Arizona . We looked at the distance to drive to Reno. We could drive there with the camper next winter taking Gilbert and getting a winter drying out experience. I fear like I just survive the wet cold of Canadian winter with the flues and pneumonia and the fatigue.  That will teach me for smoking. But I never thought I’d live this long. Plane crasses, bullets whizzing by my head.  I’m not supposed to be here waiting for my breath to be taken.  Pneumonia, the friend of the old man.  I keep believing I’m supposed to get some relief after years of services. That’s the psychological expectation that steals my joy today. I have a wonderful life. I’m blessed beyond my wildest dreams. I’m getting over this flu. I was swimming yesterday,. I walked Gilbert a couple of long walks this weekend. I hugged the beautiful Laura and enjoyed looking at her beauty.  We watched Vera and I barbecued fabulous steaks. We are blessed. We’re alive.  We’ve great family and friends. I need to get more into the gratitude. I’ve been napping. I enjoy sleeping.  Day light saving finally. I love the light.
Thank you Jesus.  God before me, god beside me, god behind me, god above and below me , inside and outside.  Protect me Lord. Keep me safe, Let me know you more dearly be with you more and let me serve you more.  Thank you Lord Jesus Christ.