Monday Morning, Horse Lake

Hard to believe I don’t have work. I dreamed of shooting a field howitzer, aiming and shooting it, much like a rifle.  Don’t know what that was about.  Gilbert was coughing. I’d wake and go back to sleep.  Eventually I got up to walk Gilbert.  Only when I climbed down from the camper bed, he was there trying to climb up. He wanted to be with his mommy. Laura spoils him by giving him morning massages. I’m woken by the dog so he can get his massage. It’s 6 am. I’m glad for the time to make espresso.

My aunt would call the temperature ‘brisk’.  A keen fisherman would head out now to catch a big one. I’ll sip my coffee with honey and cream and write.

I’ve said the Lord’s Prayer. I begin my day thinking of God.  I meditate at home before work. Here I’d planned to walk the dog.  Now I’m writing. God is everywhere, the fabric of creation, the thought and word.  

Yesterday was Father’s Day .  The devotional that day was from Deuteronomy in the OT, ‘Honor thy father and thy mother, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee; that thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee, in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.’

I certainly learned “honor thy father and thy mother’ as a child.  I don’t remember the rest but when I read it to day ‘that it may go well with thee’ , my mind says ‘or else’ and I heard my mother’s voice.  She taught us kids the rules.  Dad was there to back her up. As boys we were little ‘hellyons’.  When I see the riots and see so many children disrespectful of people and property I can only think that their mothers failed them the most, and likely the fathers weren’t there to back them up.  

Most children in American Black families don’t have fathers. Boys need fathers. I can’t speak for girls though I’d think that they must be  disadvantaged by the lack of fathers.  ACE, the ongoing Adverse Child Event study concluded that divorce was among the greatest harms for a child but the whole court system is in the Marxist business of divide and conquer, destroying families as Engels and Marx wanted. I was blessed in my Christian home, not that I knew it at the time. Father’s Day I remember my Dad. What a great man. He was there working and supporting Mom. At night over dinner, he’d always ask how we did in school.  On weekends he’d take us camping and fishing. I think of Kevin and Anna and their kids and it’s brings back the fond memories I had of my childhood, weekends and holidays.

Today’s verse is “Psalm 13:5 KJV. “But I have trusted in thy mercy; my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation.”

Salvation.  

It’s hard to imagine a world that ends with death. I live as an immortal spirit. Death is a passage.  I live for today.  I learned that God was in the present, a gift, that was why it was called the “present’. I love the expression ‘just for today’. It began with quitting smoking, and quitting drinking, this AA idea of changing with the idea that one only had to do it ‘one day at a time’.  That became ‘practicing the presence of the lord’, Brother Lawrence.  I’d read ‘Be Here Now’, by Baba Ram Dass/Richard Alpert in the late 60’s and enjoyed Elkhart Tolle’s ‘the Power of Now’.  So here I was in the centre of time, no longer living so much in the past and future.  

If I’m living in the past, I’m stealing from today. It’s usually ‘resentments’ and ‘regrets’ that hold me back. Depression is always about living in the past and not letting go.  Living is the future is also stealing from the day.  It’s tied to worries and fear as much as anything.  I remember the pastor at the Minnesota Treatment centre, he was speaker at IDAA. He said, when people come into recovery they’re only 20 percent in the present. 40 percent of their experience is in the past and another 40 percent is in the future. He felt that by the end of the initial months of the new spiritual journey they were more likely 60 % in the present and only 20 % in the past and future.  

I’m more like 90% in the day now, having fond nostalgia moments mostly about the past, blocking negative thoughts. I was burning papers yesterday from an old war and read a bit of the insanity of the complaint to Laura, “Don’t read it,’ she said.  The government had spent nearly  hundreds of thousand dollars on this psychotic drug addicts complaints against countless people. He threatened to kill my dog and everyone he knew. I wouldn’t see him after he threatened to kill me but the College of Physicans and Surgeons and the Human Rights Commission took a year of my life investigating me and punishing me for doing my job. In the end, these parasites  diverted  hundred thousands dollars of government health care money and countless hours of my time from health care to their own greedy pockets and the fellow continued to do crystal meth and swagger with the power of offence and complaint.  

I burnt the paper copies. Piles of arts student writing. I felt sorry for the lawyers, brilliant men, arguing his psychotic drivel. “Don’t read it.”  She said.  I burnt it. It felt Good. The digital copy is in the computer. I’ve unloaded some weight and look forward to letting go of more of the insanity that was the government.  So often I saw the system supporting criminals and hate. This man hated and he had the full support of the College and the government and they gently abused him with the lie that they would do anything. They did hurt us.  All of us. They were his tool.  The College of Physicians and Surgeons destroyed health care more than they served it.  They once had merit but up close I saw that this was the norm. Terribly sick spiteful people played the legal lottery and attacked good men and women doing their jobs the best they could.  The system was flawed and the College sought scapegoats to assuage their own guilt about their fundamental betrayal of their own oaths.  

When I began medicine, we’d have dealt with a psychotic meth addicts threatening to kill a half dozen people and their dogs, with a meeting. We’d have met, with him and others in a room.  An hour later the meeting would be concluded and he’d be threatening to kill the College administrator and threatening to kill the College administrator’s dog and he’d be put in an asylum or jail till he was off crystal meth.  It would not have gone on for a year with half dozen others like me punished by the smug arrogant self serving useless holier than thou system.  I rue how many patients I could have helped if I’d not been distracted by these administrative  dog and pony shows. 

And there,  I am living in the past. Here is God. Here is the present.  I laugh as I let go of the hook to go back and fight an old war. In the end I was exonerated by people I had no respect for.  We’re all generals in old age. Better to remember the creamy thighs of an ancient lover, how her smooth skin and soft words aroused me to forget everything until my loins were sated and we lay in each other’s embrace.  God those were the days.  Young love, binges of carnal pleasure.  

I worried about the future, too. When I was at the university, an assistant professor, on the long career path I remember feeling trapped. I had the mortgage , the wife, the position and a day timer that was booked years in advance.  Each day was laid out. I think the mother in law from hell was a blessing. I died each time I attended a family dinner.  Nothing was more stultifying.  I was suicidal then. I’d look at my wife and see she was fully satisfied and I was in utter despair.  I left that nightmare and took my ‘walk about’.  I promised myself I’d never again build a trap for myself.  I have future plans but nothing is written in stone anymore.  If I feel closed in I make changes. There’s illusion in the certainty.  Camus called that ‘the plague’.  It was inside each of us, that belief in our own plans.   With Covid 19, everyone’s plans were changed. But that’s the reminder we really only have this day.

I’ve woken to a Monday and I don’t have work.  I have a blank slate.  The dog defines my day mostly.  Laura told me that as a result of being a mother she wakes thinking of what she’s going to have for dinner.  “It’s what mother’s do.” She said.  “I have to figure what I have to make dinner and what I’ll need to get.”  I laughed.  We had smokies on buns with mustard last night by the fire I’d made.  

My fixed events in the day are Gilbert’s medicine. It’s a challenge to get him to take it. I wrap it in cold cuts of roast beef. Just a bit to hide the pills so he doesn’t spit them out. Then there’s Gilbert’s walk. I told a man taking pride in his goodness that his children were his ‘police’ and that he should acknowledge that he was a good man because he’d chosen a ‘family’.  Family life curbs indulgence. I could more easily wreck havoc without family to contain me. Like the James Taylor, Bartender song, “I’ve the 4 walls to contain me.”  Our love and hate are contained by the constructs of our life we allign ourselves with. 

Today I’ve the dog, demanding, loving little guy, Laura, who really isn’t demanding at all, photography, my latest passion. I’ve done photography all my life since my youth with my darkroom but now I ‘m loving taking pictures of little birds. I’m challenged by the difficulties. My Audubon photographer uncle said it was ‘the ‘shadows’ that made it so difficult. I’m still at the phase of trying to get the picture when they face me. Little birds are constantly moving. I told my photographer nephew Graeme, that they are mooning me and he said, ‘they do that to me too’. 

I’ve the fishing. It was the plan.  I’m more into the platform. The skookum Colorado XT pontoon boat has been like something from IKEA. I  think I’ll ride into town and get the battery connector I need for the electric motor. Yesterday I was really proud, getting the pontoon boat assembled and then actually getting it out on the water. I like the motorcycle too. Yesterday I  explored old logging roads till the wet mud made it too dangerous.  So much to do. And writing.  I have books to write and frankly all I seem to do is this blog. It’s a ramble.  When I think of ‘retirement’ I just think of having the open ended time to do a book. Just like putting together the pontoon boat only occurred because I had a few days open ended. When I’m working, work takes precedence. It can suddenly expand to fill days and weeks. Emergencies eat up evenings and weekends. Patient’s distress derails the plans I’d made.  Projects and books get side tracked.  I know these are excuses and admire those who organize their time better so achieve more.  I’m content.  

The books are ‘travels with gilbert’ a variation of travels with charley, Steinbeck’s inspiration.  Then there’s the Christian history and geographic piece including my photos and travels these last 20 years. There’s the great Canadian novel, of course. I’ve a ‘how to’ book about psychiatry , just a way of playing four dimensional chess. It seems a bit outdated given that reductionism of today.  I think of these things and ‘retirement’ would have these events, but mostly I’d be doing more of what I’m doing today.  Camper, truck, motorcycle, boat, dog and Laura..  I laugh because all around me there are old family men doing much the same.  RV world is a lot of retired folk and young families.  

Now I’ll get on with the next event, walking the dog.  Heavy schedule.  The demands are not that onerous.  I am so thankful for this day. What a wonderful reward. Thank you God. Thank you Mom and Dad for showing me this world . I love that I’m following in your tracks.  

The Godless and Soteriology

I listened to Rev. Flowers Soteriology 101 pod cast yesterday.  My commute time in Vancouver was doubled by the fog. Everywhere medical marijuana drivers had slowed their vehicles down so they could collectively stare and say, “Wow, Man!” It really was surreal and beautiful.
Vancouver is a bipolar city with moods fluctuating with the weather and commutes fluctuating due to poor administration of the road services from anywhere between a 1/2 hour and 2 hours daily.  The real money in the city comes from crime and government.  The criminals and the elite live in the city. The commuters like me are just the modern peasants.
Soteriology is the study of “Salvation”.  An end days prescription.  Like George Carlin, “What is this hand basket and where are we going anyway.”  Every day a person not on drugs or willing to forego the Starbucks coffee waiting in the city, gets up and drives their car either north or east, heading to the country or the prairies just to get away from the boredom of Vancouver in the darkness of ‘daylight saving’ and the rain of winter.
Snow and sunshine seem preferable to whiplash seeking pirates looking for ICBC insurance windfalls offered daily by the legal lottery that runs the province.  Meanwhile ,why work when the government taxes the workers while giving a pass to the criminals and speculators.  It’s the same with guns. Criminals have them. But the government taxes those who own them and pay taxes on them.  So the government simply does the same with workers, demonizing them, and punishing them with greater and greater taxes while leaving the criminals to prosper.
Salvation sounds like a lovely contrast to the media circus and the daily toil of hedonist smog producing bike laned city life especially as the government is taxing the air we breathe and water is now bought and sold.  Death has an appeal.  Euthanasia is marketed medically along with marijuana.
It pays to check out the tourist brochures of the various religions ultimate destination offers.
I once wrote a paper on Heaven and concluded that Christianity and Taoism had the best resorts in the after life. I didn’t really care to fight each day in pagan Valhalla.  Hanging with virgins didn’t seem nearly so appealing since the virgins I knew weren’t a particularly a attractive lot.
As a doctor I also know that the hymen restorative surgical industry is a thriving business.  The introduction of the birth control pill removed the whole need for virginity that leftover from  the agricultural and herding days of breeding, eugenics and  and thoroughbred children.  Today 50 % of the children of divorce are by DNA study, not those of the father.  Despite this, the  Jews continue to step on glasses at wedding.  Muslims kill people who look at their promiscuous sisters.  Myla Cyress, the penultimate Hollywood disease attacting slut, rides her ‘wrecking ball’.  New religions like feminism are sources of perpetual anger and ‘offence’ , like nation states in the empires building colonial days. New colonialists.  Different names, same old, same old , game.
Soteriology says each religion and each culture had some purpose and meaning.  Today the Godless simply lie and deny that they really want the most toys at the end but their agenda always is world dominance for purely hedonistic reasons. They don’t have an afterlife so can’t really care for their own children.  All must cease to exist when they, Gods of their own making,  no longer exist. No wonder there is an opioid epidemic.
The Buddhists by contrast are the most truthful.  Soteriology or salvation for them is ‘nirvana’ , ‘liberation from suffering’.  Life is ‘samsara” or the never ending cycle of misery.  All Buddhist humor is a kind of Vietnam black humor which makes their laughter so infectious.  Even Kierkegaard the great Christian theologian said ‘life is suffering unto death’.  Quite a contrast to the promises of politicians, whores, bankers, marketting agencies, and Hollywood.  Nothingness is the reward of life.
The Christian ‘salvation’ is saving the soul from ‘sin’.  Sin is a word used to describe the ‘missing of a mark’.  Christianity like Zen uses an analogy of the archer. The archer shoots an arrow and if ‘Good intentions didn’t pave the road to hell’ the arrow would always hit the mark. Christianity like Science asks the question of ‘outcome measure’.  The ‘deviance’ from the aim is called ‘sin’. In science we’d explain the ‘error’ as ‘windage’ , ‘arrow’ material’ , ad infinitude.  Christians say that sin follows from separation from God. Salvation is made possible in Christianity by the life and death and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, (God entered his creation, lived it, found it in error ,  corrected it, died and resurrected..  The cross of Christianity is the ‘cross road”. It’s all about choice and freedom of choice. Also I imagine God was just a tad cross as his creation when it killed his creatures killed him suggesting either a design error, a Robert Graves sacrifice of the king or downright naughtiness of children unattended. Apparently the computer reset didn’t take a Noah flood but the cosmic fix could be put in with ‘love’.
There is also however a pesky issue of ‘predestination’ and ‘grace’ .Soteriology addresses these ultimately Unchristian factors in Christianity.
A good Christian gets ‘mansions in heaven’ and time with God.  Virgins are apparently optional and singing replaces war. It sounds much more appealing as you get older.  You also get a new body while the Muslims must make due with the resurrection of the one they died in. This explains the mass exodus of male followers of Islam to Christianity after they have suffered castration by whatever means.
Only 1 in 1000 Muslims actually get to any kind of heaven so it’s a lottery system anyway with most ending up in fire and despair just like some Christian sects who feel the stick is far better than the carrot for managing the followers. Corruptions naturally goes along with either lottery system.
The Judaism Soteriological construct is as a collective not like Christianity which is individual. Jews are never individual tourists but must travel by the bus loads. The attraction of aetheism for the likes of Marx and other Godless Jews is that many Jews simply don’t believe in an afterlife “The dead know nothing. They have no reward.”  However other Jews do believe in an afterlife, though not nearly as attractive in terms of housing as the Jewish Christian sects believed.
In Hinduism Samedhi or Moksha is the escape from ‘samsara’ the cycle of death and rebirth.  This may mean like the Buddhists a loss of individuality but it might also mean a simple closing of this book before the opening of the other. This goes with the idea of this ‘caterpillar’ existence where enlightenment is a ‘butterfly’ existence. How can a caterpillar know as a butterfly. “I am the bubble make me the sea’.  There’s closure and possibility without the idea of a human ‘body’ or the anthropomorphism associated with the mystery religions.  The Sikh seed the ‘union with God’ as a drop of water joining the sea.
There’s a sense with the Godly that we’re all going in the same direction in a sense. Pesky pagans preparing to fight forever are as challenging to be around as those who truly believe that this is it and there are no consequences, except perhaps indigestion, for eating one’s neighbour.
Rev. Francis was challenging the Calvinist notion of preditermination, the idea that God’s chosen are already picked and the out come is ‘fixed’.  This has an anthropormorphic quality considering however we find that elections, soccer games and leadership positions are ‘rigged’.  Why not think that God has ‘rigged’ this life. The least taught book of the Bible, Job, certainly challenges the notion of Satan and dualism. Satan might well have been God’s companion creation or alter ego before the creation of more entertaining humans with delusions of free will.
Personally I’ve considered myself a ‘voice over’ on a ‘comic strip’ .  The question then is who is the writer. I’m writing my life or God or worse ‘the Borg Government of Canada’. And if the ending is ‘fixed’, as my dope smoking friend believes, “why worry, be happy.”
There’s a notion of ‘happy cabbages’ and I find when I ask people ‘why’ or ‘where are you going’ or ‘what do you want in the big picture’ they commonly simply shit themselves.  I know that beurocrats are the most disturbed by that question. They hide behind platitudes and swagger with confidence but the seed of doubt and the depth of fear is so readily apparent in their eyes.
Most who join armies have said simply, I don’t know I don’t care I just want to be a tool.  I’m here to pay for my family because that hedonistically feels good. Others believe the signs offering travel and education.
I am no more than an animal, they say. I mimic the words and motions of man but really no more. Everyone agrees with me. I represent everyone. I’m schizophrenic and leave me alone. Don’t ask me such questions!!!!
Soteriology. Thank you Rev. Flowers.