Yuma, Monday

I woke with night sweats, Probably sleep apnea back. Something about the pillows.  I’d had a terrible dream that big dog had bit Madigan in two. I was calling for help and no one answered.  I knew the dog wasn’t the problem. It was the owner.  The big dog was like government, politics, police or military.  He was just doing his job.  Unconsciously I was also pissed with Madigan. When Laura comes he splits and triangulates trying to hump her, seeing her as his bitch, going into dog in heat psychosis and not listening to commands.  He growls and snarls at me.  Last night he’d jumped up on the bed. He’s not allowed on the bed in the camper because at home he gets up on the bed and has shred two comforters and three blankets.  I bought Laura a Harley Davidson t shirt and he bit a tiny hole in the new T-shirt.  No big deal. In his mind he was being endearing. Nibbling on his lady.  But in my sleep he was chomped in two and all I could rescues was the hind legs like some fetal dead birth, the big bulldog twice my size smug and satisfied. No owner about.  

I’ve been reading the Airmen series, A War Too Far, the Viet Nam War, by Corley.  The torture and deaths of the French by the Viet Mingh was particularly graphic.  

I’m in a foreign country too and despite my blasé attitude at some level I’m anxious faced with the unknowns and new.  Especially going into Mexico on Saturday and facing the disorder.  Not such an issue as these years where the government, courts and police have collectively turned their backs on the law abiding citizens. There’s a sense of the mob rule and the elite billionaire world attacked the power house hard working middle class in favour of terrorists and fringe politics.  I’m crying help to save me dead dog and no one is responding

The trauma of being attacked in the DTES by a young indigenous man threatening me with his off leash pitbull lunging at my blind cockapoo.  I’m met the drunk old biker who proudly told me he loved watching his pitbull grab a little dog and shake the life out of it in a moment,  Life is precious and precarious.  I want to protect my little dog.  I had a friend once who I protected and felt I protected not only physically but spiritually as well including him in my prayers and caring for him till he turned mean and entitled and I withdrew from him hoping he’d care for others rather than just himself.

I’ve been transparent. I have been falsely accused by lying psychopathic women on several occasions.  That is the nature of the insectoid, sub human, barbarian sorts but the trouble is they’ve turned to the government and agencies that are inherently evil.  The woman administrator said ‘women don’t lie about sex’.  I fired the girl for stealing and smoking crack in my office only to have the government all over me for two years.  The cost personally was devastating.  Financially she extorted thousands of dollars from me.  The government protected her and her boyfriend who repeatedly threatened my life and the two targeted and harassed me. I was just doing my job and patients complained of her smoking crack while I was seeing another patient. She was supposed to be in recovery. She had been promoted by the female minister who was angry she told a mutual friend because I wouldn’t have sex with her. I have never been sexually inappropriate at work. I’ve enough problem with the women I’ve married to look elsewhere for trouble yet ugly men and women with their perversions and projections are too happy to play the new empty honey jar game.  The man refuses to have sex and the girl says he does and the perverted judges and administrators lacking any self disciplinine blame the man who doesn’t .  “You should have fucked her mate.  Not fucking them just makes them angrier.  

The media means while portrays all the politics of the right against perfection and celibacy while the left sleeps with anything that moves while doing cocaine and booze.

It’s all beyond me. I’ve years of nightmares and here was doing well and enjoying the community till my dog learned to jump on the bed.  The thin veneer of sanity.

I’m laughing now thinking how I let these episodes of ancient history steal my peace. I’ve know so many blessings and such joy.  Right now life is great. The issue has been my focus on the threat of loss of license and losss of life .  Trying to protect my blind dog from hooligans.  Trying to protect my livelihood from sociopaths in high places.  I’m at the end of my game and I’ve now the fear of what is being done to the elderly. The Trudeau government like his father before him is attacking the elderly and destroying their savings and rewarding slackards and layabouts.  Free money.  Meanwhile I’m paying back the business loans and will be done in weeks, the money already in the bank and about to be moved only to hear that half are not.

In the Bible parable the master gives seeds to three of his workers, the first put the seeds in a vault and returns them, the seconds trades them for a donkey and gets some work done while the third plants them and gains abundance to give to the master. The master then gives his rewards to the high producers.  Meanwhile I’m having whatever I’ve worked for taken by government and redistributed to the slackards and party animals.  

This is my mind dwelling on negatives when my life has been full of positives. The fears come out at night and I let them get to me. The anger with my puppy is so misplaced. The aced and I’m reminded of the patience of job my father had because I truly was a difficult child.  My brother by contrast was always good yet he’s died young of cancer.  In Psychiatry we think of ‘anger turned inward’ .  There’s a window of sanity .  Homicide and suicide are linked.  Too much self control and you die of heart disease and too little you end up in jail.

I’m here in heaven really and having Monday morning thoughts of negativity facing so many Monday mornings going to work early to be dutiful and responsible like my parents and grandparents before me.  

There’s cloud but thee temperature is warm.  I’ve work to do and the only immediate issue being to walk the dog and get another cofeee. I will pray to be a better man and more forgiving of my best little buddy, the rascal that reminds me of me when I was young. 

Laura is beautiful.  We had a terrific barbecued steak meal with potatoes, sour cream butter and peas followed by Hagen Daz ice cream bars and a couple of episodes of Lincoln Lawyer. 

She’s risen. Best make her coffee.

Please make me a better man today than I was yesterday. Help me know the peace beyond understanding. Let me remember more the countless blessings that I have known, If a person is alive that alone is evidence that the positives have out weighted the negatives but Cognitive Behavioural Therapy dictates that fears and resentments have an addictive appeal. I could watch Rockwell stories or Heartland movies but instead I like the ‘fight’ so I’ve sought adventure and change when I could have stayed in one place with the known an safe and gardened and known position authority.  Instead I nomad and enjoy the rich variety of life blessed by your protection.  

Thank you Jesus.  Thank you God.

Nightmares, fear, truth and lies.

I awoke at 4 am, sick with fear. I am again facing threats.  Thou Shalt Not Bear False Witness.   I am falsely accused.  The lies are heinous. I’ve been here before. But the dreams are of those who held me hostage and brought guns to point in my face, knifes to thrust under my chin, to make their point.  The bold faced long necked lies are more insidious. The greed that drives deceit is more deeply disdainful.  Last year was particularly trying, the death threats and the threats to kill my dog when a former dog had already been sacrificed.   I still refused to comply with extortion.The extortion is the same. The punishment follows the refusal to reward deceit.
I am here at a conference of doctors. Others are speaking of their fears.  It’s becoming universal.  Except for the elite or perhaps the mediocre. So many shudder, the ripples felt as uneasy laughter, voices kept low in hope that no one hears whispered conversations.    Stand up and you make yourself a target.  I am disheartened to hear of doctors who have left their community because they are not allowed a conscience.  They are purposely being subjected to means to break them. There is no compromise.  Christians are persecuted all over. More so, these days of aetheist communist control and sharia language restraints. To speak is to blaspheme except for the chosen.  And who are the chosen. That debate sizzles.
I am by contrast criticized for transparency.  There are no secrets in our society today. I once “hacked" into the places where all the personal records recorded by governments  were left open to all because then anyone could, legally, look.  Security cost and though I was offered pay I didn’t want to address the mess.  They had not seen the need to protect the privacy except their own because they wanted easy access instead.  Repeatedly I fought repeatedly for confidentiality till the matter became irrelevant.  The illusion of privacy is just that, our government and countless agencies for business and even nefarious designs spy on us continuously. Wikileaks has told us what we all know, that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.  Sexuality and private communication were once sacrosanct but no more.  The RCMP, FBI, NSA and all manner of public agencies spy on citizens routinely. They pay lip service to maintain appearances.  In hospitals the privacy at all levels except the top is like the gown afforded the patient.   There is pressure on the courts for transparency now.  We need the  full context of body language and secondary communications that slant all information to understand any verdict.  The back rooms prevail but only with bugs and cameras strewn around them. .
Transparency is the only protection, really.  We live in a glass house.  We are only protected by the truth. Relative truth is the illusion.   We know the media skews truth for profit.  Memories are false in hours or days and yet individuals insist their memory is true.  Then memories are fought back and forth before referees little different from those who wear black and white stripped shirts in soccer matches, convene. It’s always political.  Outcomes are bought or won.  The rich prevail.  The winner writes history.  All strength remains with the State, the King, the Big Man, the Big Woman.  Families and tribes compete.  Nation states are struck down. The rule of law is little respected when truth is no more.  Alibies are maintained by tribes and gangs.  Groups and primitive structures that predate nation states prevail.  Individuals are sacrificed or crucified.  Virgins, the young and so often Christians and especially Jews have always been the favoured entertainment in the games.  Animals and gladiators play to a different sort.
I am always anxious.  I am more anxious older.  I have served a society that once wanted law and order but the very structures of that old group are now torn asunder. The pedophiles I saw locked up will have their revenge on me.  The liars are more powerful each day as the power  shifts to celebrate the mob.  Marches upon marches define the present. A media chosen spokesperson with camera angles and lighting lies.  I’m not a marcher. I’m afraid in large crowds.  The young and physical prevail in war.  I was promised protection.  I was bred a hot house plant.  Old, academic, scholarly, a doctor, I have no more place in this physical fray.  
The campaigns to smear celebrate the actors and actresses. I wasted my time in libraries and labs.  The gossip mills were training new men and women when I was in the morgue. I have consulted the dead while reality tv was teaching debates. I am a minority view. I am a marginalized citizen.  There are favoured groups but my own group held onto truth like Shrodinger’s cat, lucid dreaming and fractals..  The world is any way you slice the pie.  Perceptions are self serving and compete by force.
I cling to the remnants integrity.  I have been violated sexually.  I have been violated physically.  My morality has been questioned. I have studied ethics ad infinitum if only to be aware in the increasingly unethical and uncultured world I live in. My RCMP friend said she joined the force to be a crime fighter but left when all she was allowed to do was be a crime recorder.  I feel a kindred spirit as we increasingly are called upon to promote disease by any other name.
I am tired in the morning.  The nightmares return and disrupt my sleep.  I struggle to remain.  Suit up and show up. Do the next right thing.  I resist the allure of self pity by exercises of constant gratitude. I thought block constantly. Prayer and thanksgiving. I seek to forgive but it’s always hard to be forgiving as one  is ducking arrows.  The nature of the work is in the midst of competing factions, more confused and confusing as the day goes on.  The armchair Monday Morning quarterbacks and the space station dwellers debate your worth.  Any moment you can be collateral damage or cannon fodder.  There is no concern above. Middle management is a casino, the players vying to skim the genius from the games to give back to the House.  The higher one climbs,the more bodies one leaves behind.  The greater the right to privilege and the more one is willing to do to keep the status.
I’ve come and gone. I’ve given up millions and turned down millions. I’ve walked away and wondered  if I’m meant to be a monk or if honourable death is better to the constant grind of facing people who want you dead so they can steal and take what they feel entitled to.  They would have your experience without the time in chains. They would have your reputation without the life of  shame.  EE Cummings called them ‘those people’.  Leonard Cohen spoke of the game, that ‘everyone knows”.
We are rats in a maize. Advance cockroaches in a dream.  Monkeys with minds and nice hair dos.  The question is truth and the judge claims to know this.  Bsseut increasingly all he holds is the gun and jailor’s keys. There are no Solomon’s in the drug addicted hoards.  Consensus is a commodity.  The guillotine is Occam’s razor. The one who fears most is left standing in the end.  The paranoids are proved right as Freud said.
And I am only afraid as long as I forget.  Anxiety is a measure of one's distance from God.  So again I turn and trudge towards Bethlehem.

Nightmares

The nightmares return like old aches after new exercise.
The school canings, the border patrol police batons, the rape, the knives,
Bullet holes in windows, late night phone calls, being held hostage,
Locked doors,  bars on windows, smug faces that still believe they're safe,
Threats upon threats, upon threats, and these from the supposedly civilized.
Then mostly the betrayals, the dissillusionment, the lies and more lies,
And a certain creepy negativity that burrows like a blood sucking bug.

You thought they were gone. You thought you were over them.
Another sleepless restless night, sweat soaked pillow,
Waking in darkness fleeing from a phantom, the no escape dream.
And the no weapon dream, the old person dream, the poor person dream,
The naked in a public place dream., the trapped and screaming unheard dream.

The world seems a less real place in the morning.
The nightmare world that began here then took a back seat in sleep
Now returns to centre stage.

I am afraid to go outside, to go to work, to be with people,
There is no hiding under blankets place,  still, I want to run away,
A northern forest, the open road, the endless seas..
I will prepare molotov cocktails and invest in security systems once again.

Of course this too shall pass, and I will wash and dreas, and go to work.
But walk with hunched shoulders, slowly, carefully, waiting for the attack,
Startling at loud sounds, scanning strangers,
Till eventually the new day has time to
Invade the loneliness and despair, demanding attention
Proclaiming a new blossom of spring, a wagging tail dog,
A baby in a passing stroller,
A friend will tell a joke and the laughter will start again, stiffly,
The old machinery of hope and optimism will take over
Then sometime soon the sleep will come again.
I will walk with my mom and my old dog in dreams,
Return to childhood family gatherings with long dead relatives,
Fly on wings over forests and streams,
Gather with thousands in celebration,
Hearing the songs of ages,
Hugging and laughing in dreams of golden meadows,
Safe in the arms of God.
I just have to get through this day, perhaps the next
Till the nightmares go and love returns.