Wednesday, Hump Day, a Sunny day, Gratitude

Thank you God for this day. Thank you for waking me. Thank you for Madigan my odd ball cockapoo who shoved his hairy nose in my face as greeting. Thank you for my home. Thank you for my friends. Thank you for family. Thank you for running water. Thank you for warmth. Thank you for prayer and meditation. Thank you for work. Thank you for coffee. Thank you for yoghurt and boiled eggs.

Thank you for this day as it unfolds. Thank you for the walk with the dog. Thank you for the Apple technology that allows me top work from home. Thank you for Mac Book Pro and iPhone 14 and Starlink. Thank you for Satellites and space stations and NASA. Thank you for Elon Musk and his vision of life on Mars. Thank you for visionaries. Thank you for Buckminster Fuller. 

Thank you for Jesus and his church and his command Do no be afraid. Thank you for his formula, Love God and Love your Neighbour as yourself.

Thank you for Paramahansa Yogananda who taught the prayer, “Saints of all religions I bow to you all, may my love shine for ever on the sanctuary of my devotion.”

Thank you for the Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, the wisdom to know the difference.

God thank you for my intellect. Helps me to be optimistic rather than pessimistic.  Help me to see and follow the light rather than turn to the darkness. Help me know you and follow your.

Thank you that Kelvin from Travco came and fixed the Truck camper so it will be better prepared for Laura and I camping this weekend.  Thank you for plans of camping.

Thank you that I know that you are in the present, Help me to maintain my focus on ODAAT , Be here now and the power of now.  Help me to keep my head in the same room my ass is.  Help me to know joy.

Thank you for the sunshine and bird song.  Thank you for the blossoms and green leaves. Thank you for the sweet smelling wind that comes from the sea. Thank you for the air to breathe. Thank you for the hot shower and soap and shampoo this morning.

Thank you for meetings with like minded adventurers. 

Thank you for this life of light and dark, that I can look back on the riches of relationships and be thankful for the accomplishments, service and connections I have made. Thanky you for helping me be of service to family, friends and fellow men and women. Thank you for the many many many many times you protected me from death and disease. Thank you for the times that the bullets didn’t hit and when they did they only grazed. Thank you for all the times you helped me walk away from crashes. Thank you for the hospitals and doctor and nurses that provided me the best of care. Thank you for the surgeons and psychiatrists. Thank you ministers and pastors and priests. Thank you for store owners and businessmen. Thank you for those who serve . Thank you for clerks and bankers and accountants and soldiers. Thank you for the baristas and the gas station attendants. Thank you for all those who serve. Thank you for the landlords and beurocrats and lawyers. Thank you for government and order. Thank you for the police and the laws and peace. Thank you for journalists and movie makers and filmographies and televisions and stars. Especially thank you for the music, the symphony, jazz, blues , rock and roll and folk. Thank you for games and sports. Thank you for all your blessings.

Thank you for this day.  Thank you Lord. 

Struggle

Recently I’ve found the word struggle is the underlying theme of my life of work, love and play.  I don’t think it’s helpful.  It’s like ‘enduring’. I’m ‘enduring my life’.  I would much rather be dancing through life, sailing through life, exploring, treasure hunting, adventuring.

My life is very good right now.  Spring has arrived, my Truck camper has returned. I’ve had a splendid weekend disconnected from the grid, cooking, eating, sleeping and reading.  I’ve been with Laura who is a gem and the nutbar dog Madigan a terror in her company.  It’s been domestic.  Like the lives the men described who returned from the ‘front’, those sailors who on leave returned to their farms which competent wives ran.  The pressure was off. I enjoyed the weekend.  I imagined that this sense of contentment was somewhere in the future in some assisted living place.  Aging was not necessarily lonely and a struggle with fear of being robbed but rather it could go easy.  I long for easy.  Despite the idea that the ‘easier, softer way, “ lacks the stoic romance of the fellow ‘strugglers’.  Vigilance I can contend with. I really feel I must pay attention.  The threats are ever there. I don’t feel protected in an AI way but rathe than I’m walking along with my hand held by Jesus. I will not be alone but I will still face challenges.

Challenge is a better word than struggle.  I had visions younger. I had goals and drives and bridges to cross and mountains to climb.  I see my friends with children and grandchildren being uplifted by their own presence in the future. I’m without children and it tells. I am feeling time running out and that there are children carrying on but I don’t feel the obligation or duty of a parent.  I’m an accessory , not necessary.  

I do good work but it’s waning.  My wisdom increases but my reach has decreased. Looking back I see that the gp I was could have been contented and I could have have saved myself the ‘struggle’ of four more years of double specialty and sub speciality as well as special interest in trauma and head injury. I could have avoided forensics but I was curious. The challenge of understanding mental illness not only for the communication with the patient but as their advocate was a whole other domain of learning. I remember liking teaching but am glad I avoided that in this world of stupid folk being ‘offended’, the euphemism of blame.  I am at a time where I’m reducing my sense of accountability and responsibility.  I felt so so long it was all on me and I had to achieve the desired goal.  I stopped the hallucinations, I stopped the suicide. It’s as my fault and my job.  I was the little boy holding him thumb in the hole in the dike.  But now I’m increasingly self centred. The thought of dying does that.

I’m caring for myself.  Speaking with a friend they were surprised I was taking lunch breaks as they remembered me working always through lunch, late into the evening, leaving the office or hospital past seven and being at work in the weekends. With the governments all out attack on the middle class, taxation and condemnation, I don’t know it gained me at all personally to work so hard and diligently. My tax dollars went to criminals and tyrants.  What little was left over I paid dearly in health.

But I sailed. I danced. I loved. I muddled on with naivity and foolishness. I had high ideals and literally would work harder when abused.  I was always believing it was my ‘duty’ and that I had somehow failed. Now I’m more ready to think it’s not the ‘fit’ or yes ‘I’ve failed’. Can we move on. The cost and waste of the institutions of blame and money are long overdue for reconstruction. I was told I had to perfect and if I wasn’t the evidence was right there.  Those other places were human constructs with lots of psychological abuse but not the death and disease that attested to errors in the emergency room. I’m glad I’ve done so little damage with the trials errors of treatment in the most difficult of patients.

Working in addiction I was forever playing poker with brains full of chemicals in various states of excitation and withdrawal giving medication to people who lied routinely about what they were already on often themselves not knowing. I never knew their hands and yet played mine the best I could with surprising success knowing the casino always wins in the end. I ‘ve sevens a whole lot of death and disease but didn’t cause it directly myself.  

Sins of omission came to fascinated me, covert and passive aggression, negligence and fate.  I still wonder about the balance and how effort and prayer can ever so slightly alter trajectories.  So many variables.  Good intentions are all to so many but I specialized in outcome analysis.  Now I’m more likely to follow protocols and do as I’m told because the punishment for doing the ‘right’ thing as opposed to what the authorities say is the ‘right’ thing is too overwhelming. I sacrificed so much for patients and others. Today I’m doing my bit. I’m not a hero. I’ve surrendered and at best am cleaning up.

If I was independently wealthy I’d probably just travel and write, play guitar more, maybe play chess. I’m paying for the travel aids I think I need ideally, outfitting for retirement but I have all I need right now. I’m ready to slip away. I’ve not cured cancer and there doesn’t seem time left for me to even write the great Canadian novel or reach Samadi or find Nirvana or levitate, or even get a spot on the mars flight or rule the world. I’ve lesser desires.  I’d like to again lie in the sun and day dream. I did this weekend, put out the lawn chairs and make a fire with split logs and sit enjoying the wind wafting the wood smoke my way.  I moved my chair to the right place so I only had wisps of smoke, just enough to bring back memories of Blue Lake, Minaki, family, Boy Scouts, Camp Steven’s,  Church campus and later hippies. It really was just nostalgia. Memories of youth. Skinny dipping with beautiful girls or later lying under the full moon.  The conditions had to be just right. A marvellous confluence. When bugs were not present so that love making on a beach or a mountain side or in a tent was idyllic.  There have been countless moments of wonder and grace. I too often forget them as my mind today is drawn to the ‘struggle’s. 

I’m the proverbial old general replaying the battles but it’s all just been water under the bridge with eddys and rapids.  We’ll floating with the stream. It’s a good feeling. 

Forest dreams

I woke twice from sleep last night. Somewhere around 4 am I woke from a dream in which I was in Fort Garry on the recess ground of Viscount Alexander. I was a 30 years younger.  We were talking and walking and looking up we saw sleek long war planes in groups of three, thin, barracuda shaped.  I had my old Nikon and was about to take a picture when Marion tried to stop me. The planes passed but a warthog type army machine passed in front of our group. I took a picture of them and they stopped so I walked over and showed them my camera offering the SIM card. « Nice camera, » the fellow said and took it.  I was naive and we’d all been supportive but this camera incident seemed to undermine my patriotism. 

Later I’d come across an older man saying a younger woman was having trouble orgasming and he was trying to help her.  She was rubbing her clitoris furiously and he was there offering assistance.  I was passing by and wondered what this dream had to to with the futuristic war planes and war machines.  It’s all metaphor.

I always thought Marion was sophisticated, early as a mother, learned to protect her children  and foliage.  I was always idealistic, a dreamer, a poet, an adventurer, healer, explorer. I didn’t relate well to those men who needed to win, who wanted to be number one and would cheat or kill for that.  I liked a good game but didn’t lust for dominance.  Like most people I was happy enough.  I remember the crowd of us looking up at the barracuda air machines.  We were like that vast playground and playmates. I was often fighting mostly defensive. We were boys then.  The old men were competing for world dominion.  Paranoid I suppose.

I imagined my war machines were for off world war. I’d read Foundation by Isaac Asimov as a young man and recently begun watching the series on Prime tv. I was reading sci fi book of men fighting in the future, a group of men called the ‘dog’.  Not a very good book, I’m skimming.  I liked the discussions of healing medicine and futuristic care in found in the Jungle in the book but the fighting and killing is terribly repetitive. The science fi is the romance with man and EI and new baby being born for some future superhuman cyborg race.  I finished the history of Iran and the war themes and dominance and fighting dominated .  The Irag Iran war of Iman Khomeini and Sadda Hussein was interesting as I’d forgotten that and now must wonder about the failure of Saddam Hussein in that war and his later defeat by the Americans.  One could think the CIA had put him up to that for the Iranian oil which the British and the Americans were into .  Around the same time Iran nationalized it’s oil fields from Britain, Pierre Trudeau, the communist, was nationalized the Canadian Oil Fields from the province of Alberta and giving the profits to Quebec which was hoarding it’s own hydro electric power and selling it for profit to the US.  The media story was always what seemed like a fairy tale version for the low brow. The reality was far more complex.  

Meanwhile I’m in heaven. This forest is like the old forest of Vancouver Island, the forest that Emily Carr made famous with her painting. The northern rain forest with moss and fungus and ancient plants and evergreens.  It’s been raining while we’ve been here.  Drizzling or spitting. No sun. I made a fire yesterday.  Madigan wasn’t whining for Laura last night so we had a good sleep. I was up at 4 am for the dream but then fell back to sleep.  I remember enjoying feeling a stiff morning hard on and thinking the apparatus is still functional but then Laura was asleep .  

I prayed instead. Our father prayers.  Thy will be done prayers.   Morning prayers and falling back asleep to luscious dreams.  Madigan began windging and whining at 7 am our normal wakening time. I’m now on my first coffee and will have to walk up to see if I can get another day her at Alice Lake Provincial Campground.  Though there are empty sites, reservations aren’t available, only day by day for this spot.  I had an idea of swimming thinking the cold water would be good for my aging body, invigorating, but without the sun I’ve been loathe to get in the lake and swim. Walking Madigan often and throwing the ball is all I can manage. I’ve barbecued at night and Laura has made sandwiches in the day.  We’ve read.  It’s been truly relaxing. No tv. No calls. No wifi.  A smidgeon. We get messages but can’t phone out or load pages but we get a little bit of the outside world .There seems a ‘bit’ of wifi and a ‘bit’ of cell service at times . I ordered a booster for wifi and for longer trips this summmer will take my Starlink.  The Starlink Satelite wouldn’t work here because there’s too much foliage ‘obstacle’.   It will take some choosing of the space setting up to get it right.  I like the challenge looking forward to adding the wings lift to carry the motorcycle or towing the quad. I’d meant to bring the folding electric bike but if I’d remembered I’d not have had the long walks with Madigan.  I need to lose weight and I’m out of shape.  This whole camping thing so far has been terrific for that with so much movement compared to my being at my desk at home and watching tv at night. I walk the dog and swim but this outdoor thing is not pavement and there’s just a lot of moving and lifting and pulling.  Healthy.

Oh well another coffee and I’ll get back to reading.  If we can stay I’ll make another fire and use up the wood i have today.  It’s actually supposed to be sunny so a swim may yet happen. 

Madigan ,the testosterone crazed cockapoo

Madigan has woken Laura and I multiple times through the night.  He is miffed we have not allowed him on the bed with us.  Much to our surprise he leaped up on his own and took umbrage to my putting him back on the cabin floor.  I’ve walked him for a couple of hours. Buy’s there’s  unlimited energy in use. Very much nuclear powered. Worse he is in lust. 

He lives to hump Laura. I remember when Gilbert lived to hump Aim.  She called him « the humper’ As a man I can appreciate their good taste yet I’m thrown back to when I was a boy and I caused my father and mother no end of concern. At least my attention was outside the house the house.  Not incestuous like this mutt’s.  Meanwhile Laura is being Laura and Madigan interprets every gesture as reciprocity. I suppose I could make a video of the exchange and show it to every teen boy in school.  With Gilbert the ‘phase’ passed in months but with Madigan it comes and goes and seems to be lasting too long.

I’m seriously considering neutering him despite my not wanting to lose the potential revenue in breeding this little guy in retirement.  I’ve to date treated quite a few men with hyper sexuality medically but never surgically.  With this mutt that kept me awake half the night with the cries of suffering of Poor Werther if I was to lean towards surgerical solution  I’d prefer lobotomy.  I awoke several times to his doleful groans and whining.  

We normally wake at 7 am but it’s vacation. None the less he began barking adamantly aggrieved by my not getting up to let him at his princess.  To Laura though it’s less the pageantry of the crowning of King Charles which is happening today with Camilla as Queen than an episode of Deliverance.  His toothy animalistic grin is dominated less by affection and more by lust. His eyes suggest a cuddle but his intent is clearly to plow her leg.  To be successful young men must learn the art of 90 % romance and affection and 10% animal lust.  Madigan has it all reversed.  He’s further confused as his object of interest is definitely her leg. 

I plan to talk to the vet while hoping the problem will resolve.  Thanks to Covid he’s been under socialized with his own kind. I keep hoping he’ll meet a lady dog with similar desire.  Though there are several female dogs who are enamoured by him, they are always leashed and chaperoned as he.  Besides dogs don’t do quickies and can even get knotted and entangled in the act for hours.  Not something to be encouraged at the off leash dog park with children about.  

Admittedly part of the problem is his loneliness.  I’ve taken him for an early morning walk and now with me in the cabin with him he’s no longer being irritating. He sincerely loves Laura and would like to sit with her as they do at the table . He actually behaves himself with direction and attention especially when I’m here to reinforce her commands.  Laura’s commands never sound as such, more like ‘suggestions’.  The point is made though and we manage.  

But today I’m tired and irritable. If I was Vietnamese we’d be eating dog tonight.  

Alice Lake Campground

Thanks to Kevin (adventurerrvcenter@yahoo.ca), Thaun Vo of Rand and Fowler Insurance, Kelvin  at Travco RV and Merry Maids of Burnaby, my Adventurer Truck Camper is back. Two years ago I hit a boulder on the West Harrison road causing structural damage that Kevin restored to new. Kevin rescued us after a year of gaslighting by the dealer.  Despite working in jails I still am not immune to sociopaths.  Thank God for Kevin and Thaun, men of character, honest business men.  Once they were involved everything went smoothly.  

Kelvin from Travco fixed my pipes and furnace last year and was kind enough to come by and fix the drawers and windows in my camper .  Finally Merry Maids detailed the whole inside delighting Laura when she arrived for our inaugural camping weekend.  “It’’s better than new, “ she said.  

We didn’t know exactly when we’d be able to leave till this week so didn’t have reservations. Since Covid ,campsites are premium. When we picked up the camper last week in Chilliwack at AdventurerRV Centre, we took it back to the city, where Merry Maids had at her.  

Each day Laura and I texted each other, ‘just three more days’. “ Just two more days.”  “Just one.”  Madigan was ecstatic to see Laura at our door 9 am  this morning   I’d loaded the truck and we just had to  head out.  I was sorry to leave my new HD Nightster Motorcycle. I have yet to test the truck hitch carrier with the new motorcycle. We have the quad in the country on a trailer for another trip. This weekend was just for enjoying the return of the camper. And we are.

“I want to go north to Pemberton.” I told Laura this morning.”  I’ve not been on the sea to sky since before Covid,” It was raining and ugly but the view of the sea was still spectacular.  Passing Porteau Cove I remembered all the wreck scuba diving I enjoyed there.  Then we were passing Britannica Beach where the mine is. “We stopped here a whole lot for best burgers and fries,” Laura said.  Then we were at Squamish.   

“I’ve loved riding the motorcycle here and stopping for coffee at Starbucks.” I said. 

“That was so much fun, “ she agreed.  

Then we saw the sign for Alice Lake Campground.  “We can try,” I said.

“We don’t have reservations. Any spots available.” I asked the young man at the booth. 

 “You’re in luck. I have one”. He said. “I think too you might be a senior so are entitled to a discount.’  (I don’t think I look old but I’ll identify as old if it means saving money.) 

Now we’re here. We even have electricity. I was glad to have filled the water tank before we left.  In the past we’ve gone three days easily.  We’re really quite spoiled.

The provincial park site is terrific. A large private lot with wide spaces between campsites.  What a marvellous provincial campground.  He  warned us about bears and not leaving out food.  Dogs have to be on a leash but we just love the fresh air, the quiet and that the rain stopped once we stopped.  

This is bliss.  Laura has made Black Forest ham sandwiches with the fresh lite rye bread.   I made stove top expresso and am  comfortable now  writing a blog entry before my plan to walk Madigan around the neighbourhood.  There are mosquitos but they’re staying outside the screen door.  Laura having chucked the paper plates has settled down with a magazine.  

“We don’t have wife or cell service,” she said.  “It’s the first time in forever I’ve been so disconnected.’

“I know. I forgot my satellite phone but rather like that I’m disconnected.  The world can get by without us for a day or two.  I’m beginning to feel so relaxed,” I said.  

Madigan meanwhile is still a Duracell bunny as the humans are really settling into this camping life.  

‘I may have to make another coffee.’ I thought «  Maybe a walk first. »

My cellphone rang to our surprise.  Kevin and Anna and the kids were driving by on the highway on their way to camping in Pemberton.   Great talking with them and hearing about our mutual friends  Elizabeth and Phil in Newfoundland.    We may follow them up to Pemberton tomorrow as we’ve only this site overnight. This can only be booked 1 day at a time and the rest of the campground is full.  The air here is glorious.  

 

Mama’s Bank Account by Kathryn Forbes

When I was in grade school the high school put on a production of “I remember Momma”.  My father, mother , brother and I all went one evening.  Other than church plays it was my first encounter with live theatre.  It so moved me I wanted to be an actor, was in the drama club at Vincent Massey and later at the Manitoba Theatre School.  My first year at University of Winnipeg I took theatre with the aim of being a play write. 

I’d be waylaid by biology and biochemistry only to become a country doctor delivering babies and doing minor surgery.  I’d go onto specialize in Psychiatry where I did further training in psychodrama, dance and music therapy.  Personally I’d have seasons tickets to theatre, ballet, symphony and opera over many years. I really appreciated the arts though my day job was principally science. 

Recently I ordered “Momma’s Bank Account” by Kathryn Forbes.  This was the novel that was the  origin of the play called “I remember Momma’.  

I cried reading again reading it,  remembering my father coming home from work and giving his paycheque to my mother. Together they’d sit at the kitchen table and go through their budget.  

My brother and I didn’t receive an allowance but did jobs like delivering papers, mowing lawns and shovelling snow to have our own money.  All the saving and working and budgeting that’s condemned today as outdated ‘old stock Canadian.’  It’s summed up as ‘white priviledge’ and we’re shamed. 

I gave blood to pay for my books in medical school, along with a half dozen other students.  We formed an ad hoc study group to make use of the time we were being transfused every week until we became too weak and couldn’t carry on.  

These days I’m a dinosaur. Apparently ‘budget’s balance themselves’. Something ‘s rotten in the state of Canada. Unethical behaviour prevails at the very top.  Magical thinking is everywhere.  All manner of negligent and criminal behaviour goes on without any accountability even when exposed.  Billions of taxation money has gone missing.  Theft is the new norm, the new reset. 

I suppose there was a little self pity in my tears. Nostalgia for sure. I remember I didn’t appreciate my parents budgeting and cautious spending.  When I was young I was always exposed to the marketting world of television, the lies and false promises.   Looking at a neighbour’s flash new car, I once said to my father, “isn’t that something?”  He said it was ‘but Bill, I own my car and house and everything we have. The bank owns that car.”  

It was years before the government colluded with thieves and rioters and took money from the working people to give to their friends. The friends were slackards and thieves like them.  Why earn money when you can steal from citizens. 

When I was older I realized that the government used our pension funds as their private bank accounts too.  All the seniors were only getting half of the return on the money they invested in pension because the politicians today were little better than sociopaths.  Voltaire, paraphrased, said “steal a little and they put you in jail, steal a lot on they make you king’.  I wondered if that was truer today that when the cabal was inbred royalty rather than the grovelling elites today. 

The play, I remember Moma,  spoke to family.  Mama’s Bank Account by Kathryn Forbes is that story of a Norwegian family , hard working and loving.  I cried when I saw it as a child sitting beside my own mother with my family so like the family described.  Today, so much older , I cried to read it again.   It’s an old era of family values and responsibility.  Accountability and love.  Motherhood is little respected today as politicians denounce the family and mothers are called ‘ breeders’. The State is all .  Feminism of today is imitation of men.  It celebrates the sexy single girl.  As unCanadian as it is today I miss my homemaker mothr and  love this celebration of the Norwegian American matriarch.    

Sunday morning, rainy Burnaby

The first time I was in Burnaby back in the 70’s I was absolutely uplifted by the brilliant green of the grass and forest. I realized that the rain caused the foliage to be so alive and radiant. It was a wonder to see,  Living here now years I find I’m missing the sun though visiting Arizona last year standing in the desert with little more than cactus about I missed the green of Burnaby.  Now I just long for the summer sun.  

It’s a fact of nature this weather. It’s the weekend. It’s not the problem of the rain but my attitude. I”m not so motivated today. Partly my back aches and I worry about physical tasks thinking I might do damage. I won’t. It’s all psychosomatic .  I saw the chiropracter  yesterday and swam. It was a good day.  Today I’d planned to go to church. I still could. I could take the dog or leave him and go by motorcycle. It’s raining and I’m just on my second cup of coffee. Sloth is holding me,  I thought of an online meeting.,  

Looking at social media I just felt self pity, that others were active and doing things while I was belly aching to myself unable to move,  It’s nothing to do with the outside. It’s my attitude. I need an attitude of gratitude.

Thank you God for this day. Thank you for a good sleep in a warm and safe place, Thank you for Madigan. Thank you for the coffee. Thank you for all the rest of my body that doesn’t feel pain. Thank you for the quiche I bought yesterday for this morning. Thank you for the refridgerator. Thank you for family and friends.  Thank you for recovery. Thank you for all that I have. Thank you for life.

I’m not ready to rush,  I’m off the clock. I worked all week.  I will work this week again.  I’m a little concerned because sitting my back is painful and I sit to work.  Walking and standing cause pain too at time.  Right now I’m not in pain. I’m a little sore and stiff.  

I know the formula is that I focus on the positive and distract myself from the pain. I can go through the pain, I can pray. I can ask for help.  Instead I wallow in self pity. I’m addict ed to my couch. I like to half sit and lie in a comfortable position and read or watch tv and drink coffee.  Madigan lies on top of me and pins me down.  A

It’s getting to the time when I will have missed the window of opportunity to attend church.  It’s rainy and chilly outside.  I don’t think I’m going to make it to church.  I’m really more partial to the couch.  

Church is participating. It’s okay. God is everywhere.  Prayer together is sometimes more potent. I like the people. I wish to support the church.  Yet I could go back to sleep. I could do so many things but sloth has me in it’s clutches.  An on line meetings might be inspirational.  

I will walk the dog.  Madigan is a reason for movement.  He’s so precious. He’s welcome at church but taking him is a bit of a chore as it’s still wanting to be entertained .  He’s no more socialized than I am.  

That’s it.  If I wait the weather may improve.  I really ought to put together my machine for hanging upside down like a bat.  There are so many ‘shoulds’ .  I could go for a massage today to.

Each day we wake up and seek to reduce discomfort and maximize joy.  I seek to do your will God. I’ve had coffee and eaten quiche, used the toilet and feel better, I shave and brushed my hair. I ‘ll walk and every move will be better. It might have been better to go to church.  Good people.  Godly .  But right now I feel I’ll lie on the couch for a bit and gather energy for next move.  

Thank you God.  Thank you Jesus.  Thank you for this day and this being ness,  

Full moon earlier this month.