Canadian Author's Association - Westcoast Meeting - Nov. 2010

Ben Nuttall-Smith was the CAA greeter 2nd Wednesday of November at the Alliance for Arts and Cultural Events, Ste 100, 938 Howe Street, Vancouver. He was beaming. I hate when other authors are beaming. They're usually a morose and sullen lot with furrowed brow ever in search of the bon mot. Beaming can mean only one thing. Ben's new novel had been accepted and is due out for publication in the spring. In the reflection in the glass behind him I watched my freckles turn green as he spoke about his writing achievements.
I just managed to congratulate him, shake his hand, get by him and damned if I didn't encounter another beaming author. This time it was Robert Mackay, President of our Vancouver branch of CAA. His new novel is due out in March 2011.
Trying not to grovel and kneel before greatness, I styled the diffident pose of a blogger. Blogger's don't need publishers. Bloggers are poor and self supporting. Bloggers give their works to the church of internet. Ben and Bob actually had found homes for their children.
I get by Bob with freckles and skin green, only to see another beamer. Who is that, I ask. I can only wonder as Jean Kay introduces Lila.

Lila's one of our very funny resident poets. She breaks into performance art reciting a work about the snakes that we meet in daily life. Obviously some of hers are men. I sit back and enjoy, loving her various takes on officialdom, listening as she brings the pompous and pretentious down a notch or two with cutting art.
Then Jean is introducing the other beamer. He's a really big beam. The more books published, the more beam, it seems.

This is Timothy Taylor. http://www.timothytaylor.ca/ No wonder he beams. Not only has he published books but he's had countless writing awards. He actually makes his living writing which supports his office in downtown Vancouver. Now that's a serious writer. His first novel was Stanley Park and is optioned for a movie. I've just downloaded his Story House from Amazon. He's reading tonight from his latest book due out like Bob's book in March 2011. It's got the word Project in the title, like Blair Witch Project, but I think there's a colour, Blue, like that movie the Vancouver police did about Vancouver downtown eastside. Blue Light Project. That's it. I ought to be a better researcher, like Taylor. He tells us that he started this book with the idea of a hostage taking in a theatre and three characters. One was a former star athlete. In this case a woman gold medallist in one of those diatholon, triatholon, biatholon whatever aggregate sports that will never take the place of hockey, try as they might. The other character was a street artist. Timothy Taylor explained how he became interested in these alternative artists who do city art, one fellow painting a dumpster to look just like Louis Vitton luggage. The third character was pullitzer prize journalist who'd fallen from grace through lying in a major piece only to end up doing scuzzy tabloids for a living. It was this alter ego latter character whose place at the hostage taking, Taylor read tonight.
It was priceless writing. Not surprising he's a beamer. Writes amazingly and reads well too. The girls say he's handsome. What's not to hate. We had question and answers after that. Always interesting to learn what authors say to authors questions. Some very useful answers about digital contracts and movie scripts. Then lots of applause.
I'm committed to buying Blue Light Project. It's going to be the first of a new genre, Literary Thriller. It's like the biathalon. Nobody's just playing hockey. Everything has gone Roccocco and Baroque. At least blogging remains the trailer trash of modern writing. I'm safe in my own Deliverance, resisting knocking out a few teeth and learning the banjo.
It was another good night at CAA. Inspirational for sure. Like getting to hear today's Robertson Davies, Farley Mowatts and Pierre Burtons reading from the great literature that will be taught in tomorrow's schools.

Next event is the Christmas Lunch, Whitespot Restaurant, 1616 West Georgia, Vancouver, Noon, Dec. 4, 2010.It's always a great place to play identify the poets from the novelists based on table manners.


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Spud Valley Sporting Goods Ltd for Women

Now that Mellissa is expecting Brad has pink rifles in the store. Sheraton just signed up Laura with one on my rifle license.  She'll enjoy target practicing with this pink Ruger 22 rifle and the scope Brad added for all our aging eyes.  While they were doing this, Brad asked "what's a pirate's favourite letter?"  Laura answered 'rrrrrrr' but Brad said "c".  SEA!.  Their shop has fashion for women as well as the latest range finder binoculars selling for over a thousand and well worth it.  I'd have loved to have had a pair when I started bow hunting. Now I just want them but Laura's rifle cost $350 so I'm going to be happy with the Browning Binoculars I bought from Brad and Sheraton last year. They just keep getting the latest and best equipment. Now they've even got the best outdoor women fashions.  Laura just naturally had to have a camo jacket to go with her gun.  In contrast to my cammo wear her's is elegant and fitted designer wear.  Whatever helps to stop a buck in it's track and give me a chance to take a shot.  Laura joined the BC Wildlife Association last year.  More and more women than ever before are getting into rifle shooting and hunting. The champions this last year, much to men's surprise, were Canadian women.  One of my friends is a women bow hunter whose husband calls upon her to get him a deer when he's not been successful through the season. She always succeeds where he fails.  I told Laura that when she gets her hunting license I expect to sit in my truck listening to tunes while she and Gilbert get the birds.  

Spiders On Drugs

Gilbert's Yellow Slicker

Every year God tries desperately to clean the dirt and corruption out of Vancouver and British Columbia politics. To that end the city is deluged for weeks sometimes months with purifying water. Pet owners, especially in Yaletown, eventually conclude that this really is the Flood. Hence they spiff up their lap dogs and prize cats in hopes that Noah, whoever Noah is, will pick their purse pet for saving. Yachtsmen in Coal Harbour and False Creek smile smugly knowing they're well prepared with everything from dinghy's to luxury yachts with helicopter pads just in case this year the sun doesn't return and the rains continue.

Gilbert naturally had to be the best dressed dog should the occasion arise. It would take a miracle to find two of a kind for him. Plenty of Fish isn't even up to the task. Yet being a yachtsman myself I did ensure he had a true west coast yellow slicker that not only made him look spiffy but would serve him on our boating trips to Salt Spring Island.

The fall leaves have turned to yellow. A little tang of winter is in the air. Whistler die hards are already skiing the mountain peaks while cross country skiers are slugging across the Cypress slopes.

The Harley motorcycle is being tucked away for the winter in hope of resurrection in spring. The wellies are already out of the hallway cupboards. Remembrance Day rains are a reminder of the hell of trench warfare in WWI and the nightmares of jungle fighting throughout the Pacific. This year the troops are in deserts and mountains. We all pray they are safe and return home in one piece, body and minds in tact, soon. The poppy flowers adorn our fall coats and as the dark days begin these proud flowers lighten our memories reminding us of the sacrifices made for us to enjoy the freedoms of peace and security.

The rains have begun. The great wash is upon us. Now our streets are full of yellow and orange leaves of autumn that daily will be washed away with all the grime of negativity. Seasonal Affective Disorders will reappear in the darkness of winter only to be lifted with the coming of the light of spring. That is ,if this year ,the promise of spring will come again. As we each take for granted waking each morning after the night of death like pause for each individual, so we are rarely appreciative of the similar profound promise of seasons!

The floods will occur here and there and we will repent and pray and hope that today we can be better people and learn the good lessons of the past as we progress to the future.

Celebrate all that is God's creation. Sing Hallelujah in praise for sun and rain, night and day, all the variety and splendour of creation. It's the 11th hour then it's the new day. It's time and time again we see the coming of morning. Now the rains begin and we pray for spring but oh what a washing we are in for. Umbrellas and slickers.

Well, Gilbert is ready. He has his bright yellow slicker. Sunshine colored. And really visible. I'll see him on the streets and onboard the ship. As for Gilbert he actually liked this attire. He could see the manly merit in staying dry. From a dog's point of view too


he'd rather keep his smell and isn't keen on bathing on the best of days. His sister, Angel, the cat, isn't coming out again till spring. Humans were created to ensure her comfort and she's quite happy to watch her brother cavort with glee at the prospect of running in puddles and splashing in the rain. He does look good in his new slicker, though.




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Baptism of Matthias

I was so honored to receive an invitation to the baptism Matthias, son of Karen and Tom. St. James Anglican Church is the location for this event. Baptism of infants occurred in New Testament times.
Raised a Baptist, I was 'christened' as a child and baptized when I as an adult and accepted Jesus as my Saviour. In the Catholic, Anglican and other Christian traditions "baptism" occurs near birth and then "confirmation" is undertaken when the child or adult can make decisions of their own.
Laura, raised Catholic, said "I had to be baptized early. I think it's within 6 weeks. The Catholics are afraid you might die before being baptized. They get it done quick." Theologically, Catholics have tended to believe that unbaptised children don't make it directly to heaven. The Catholics however have a way station 'limbus infantium' somewhere in the vicinity of 'purgatory'. Part of the Christian break with Catholicism at the time of Martin Luther was that upward movement from this way station into heaven could be 'bought' through contribution to the church. Most Catholics and Christians get around these dicey theological bits by having their children baptized early anyway.
Catholics might well contend that Christian heaven isn't as high as Catholic heaven but that gets one into those inter denominations comparisons that ecumenical Christianity tries to avoid if only to make Monty Python's work more difficult.
Theologically this world is considered a place of "SIN" . Sin means that there is no 'perfection' in reality though 'perfection' can be imagined or thought. The individual is 'imperfect' in this regard or 'incomplete'. This world is 'imperfect' or 'incomplete' in this regard too. Sin was originally used as the verb 'to sin' which meant in olden times "to miss the mark". An archer "intends" for the arrow to hit the bull's eye of the target every time but even the best 'archer' can't do this in this world. Yet all of us can 'dream' and 'imagine' or 'think' of just such a scenario. The personification of the reasons for this imperfection are called 'satan' a force or individual that fights God's loving plan for all.
That said, Baptism is a Christian community's excuse for a party. Not that Christian's ever needed an excuse for a party. Imagine any party without drunkenness, drug abuse, and having unsafe sex with strangers and you get what is essentially the makings of a Christian party. The 'hoe down' and the 'fair' and the 'church picnic' and the 'town dances' were all predominantly Christian parties. The girls get dressed up and generally make the girls of sex in the city look like wallflowers. Not only are they dressed as well but they radiate a kind of beatific happiness probably because they've got the guys to clean up and the baby is the centre of attention. A lot of single men fall in love with single women at baptismal events.
Baptism's are a bit more reserved though than 'hoe downs', at least in the church itself, and especially in the Anglican church. We gather as Christians to welcome a new member to the church, which is just another word for 'Christian community'. We also in the baptism ceremony 're affirm' our own 'vows' as Christians.
The baby gets water on his head and the priest blesses him. Jesus was thoroughly 'dunked' by John the Baptist and it may well be a factor in baby baptism that 'total immersion' of the more passionate Baptist contingents was felt best left till the child could at least swim in case the minister got carried away with religious fervor.
Christian's don't believe in Genital Mutilation of children though some will do circumcision as a secular activity. The baptism is in fact the worst torture we collectively subject kids to, if we leave out the later 'plays' and 'public recitals' that have Christians showing up years later in therapists offices saying their parents abused them by making them 'act' or 'sing' or 'recite poetry'.
In Baptism a strange looking man or woman priest chants some things over you and splashes you with water while your parents looking on beatifically with a whole bunch of people congregate just outside your baby vision.


Inside gambling among teen age boys, unbeknownst to parents, is usually on whether the child will scream when the priest picks him up or not. The other more secular discussion is about the baptismal clothes. Increasingly there has been improvements in the white cotton fashion of babies at baptismal events.
Baptism to all is a sacrament that confirms the child in the Covenant of God. The covenant of God in the Christian faith is the promise of Grace. The baptized child is protected henceforward as part of the church. It is the sign of salvation.
It's also a really good time. Baptisms are spiritually uplifting times for all involved.
Thank God Matthias has come along to allow Karen and Tom and all of us to get together for this greatest of Christian celebrations!



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God's Book

The Threefold Way of Christianity referred to the three stages of the Christian Journey. In this Physike referred in spiritual theology to the entire created universe of nature, human beings and the invisible spiritual beings. In the second stage of the Threefold way - physike - we focus on the indirect contemplation of God. Through regular contemplation of the world about us we are increasingly able "to experience all creation (including our own life) as a gift, and to discern God's presence in the entire created universe".

Diogenes Allen in Spiritual Theology quotes Kallistos Ware, a bishop of the Greek orthodox church, referring to Nature as "God's Book". We are to see all things in God and God in all things.

I had not thought this to be so true of Roman Catholicism or Protestant Christianity as a whole and in fact thought it the special domain of the Celtic Christianity I embraced. Such is a little knowledge.

I'm thankful to Diogenes Allen for enlightening me, a physician, that a special appeal of Celtic Christianity, indeed had it's roots in all Christianity. Catholics, Orthodox, and Protestants share this spiritual theology that once was called mysticism.




I like that Nature is called "God's Book". Now if only I could be less illiterate.










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Love Your Neighbour

To summarize, Jesus said: "Love God and Love your neighbour as yourself."

The Greatest Commandment (Mark 12:28) One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?"
"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear. O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: Love your neighbor as yourself."

Within this love of God comes first, and love of self is assumed, and love of neighbour is to be learned. There's a tendency for people to say they didn't love themselves because they didn't care for themselves. They see themselves with great self pity as self sacrificing and one day say with great solemnity, I'm working on loving myself. Ironically, narcissism is the beginning of life's journey. The baby literally is 'king baby'. The first illusion is that we are caring for others when so often co dependency is just a twisted self care narcissism that takes others 'hostage' and congratulates ourselves being 'good' people 'who were abused'.

Later Jesus said, "Love your enemy." You can almost see him deal this out for the sort of people I've just described. They present as kind and loving and learning to care for themselves continuing in this stage interminably. Even tax collectors care for their own as do sociopaths. They portray themselves as great spiritually because they care for their own DNA, their own immortality, their own solution to fear of loneliness and isolation, their children, their friends, the other cannibals in their tribe, for instance. The great leap of faith is caring for the 'other'. That's the spiritual message in learning love for that which is most different from oneself.

Reading Diogenes Allen's Spiritual Theology I am struck by the simplicity of his summarization of the spiritual journey:

1) Conversion (also called repentance)
2) The development of virtue or human excellence, which includes the redirection of the emotions or passions; and
3) love of neighbour

Phillip Yancey has claimed elsewhere that the trick of evil is to convince us that religion is the enemy of pleasure. However G.K. Chesterton made it clear in his writings that pleasure came from God and as such was to be truly appreciated by the religious. It is a delight though to read his epicurean approach to pleasure contrasting the savoring and moderation of indulgence to the gluttonous overly piggish addictive approach to pleasure. His writing of the appreciation of the grace of one wife with it's depth and humble acknowledgement of the lifetime needed to know a woman is contrasted with the shallow careless involvement of the man who has 5.

But then the ancients and not so ancients appreciated that the greatest challenge of love of neighbour was indeed love of the opposite sex and as Jesus said with greatest clarity, "Love your enemy". God's sun shines on sinners and saints so to become more like God we must learn from his all encompassing love.

)I was about to write a reply to a fellow's report which belittled my august work and was a truly shoddy piece of penmanship by either a doddering fool or one wet behind the ears. I had, as a good clinician, cured a patient of a potentially lethal disease and returned her to work. Paid the least in the system for my front line work harried from morning to night with impossible tasks and ever increasing beaurocratic demands to record, record, record, I'd not included a text book description of the 'diagnosis' I made, especially considering that in the very recent past Doctors were asked to summarize their observation and investigation in the least words culminating in a description of the clinical with a 'diagnosis'. I reported my diagnosis with 5 axis and 3 pages of documentation which I sent to the family physician, a fine man known to me and knowing me, so we have our own internal clinical communication. This "expletive, expletive, expletive" high paid lawyer/bureaucrat/doctor, not a clinician by any means, one who counts his success not in lives saved by rather in dollars earned and debates won, had the effrontery to say my patient should have been well in 2 months rather than the year it took for her to recover. His work was shoddy and failed in "due diligence" to understand the 'conventions' of clinical practice which have us under the gun of time and pressure of overflowing waiting rooms and no hospital beds and no money for the patients treatment and no nurses for home care, while we write our report to the doctor and then follow up with collection of data which confirms or denies our initial working diagnosis over subsequent visits. There is no time for the niceities of the courts and bureaucrats lightyears in time and distance and mental processing and soul from the front lines of human suffering. Later, in subsequent comments on the patient and response to treatment and measures I've done in the office but not had time to type into my clinical note to the doctor, I find all the data that this person will use to 'win' with the help of lawyers and unions and her other doctors.

This other doctor, hatchet man, high paid, low life mercenary, scoundrel, shoddy work doer, company doctor, sociopath, expletive, expletive, expletive is holy of holies the 'neighbour' that Jesus is talking about.

No, my soul cries out. When I speak foul of a president, prime minister, government worker, colleague, criminal, pedophile, murderer, ex marital partner, tax collector, policemen, that can't be the 'neighbour' Jesus was talking about,

Please God don't mean that. Please God don't expect me to virtuously respond to this narcissistic pricks pretentious self serving crap in which he quotes the DSMIV diagnostic book to show that he actually can read even though to anyone with IQ over 40 it would appear that he isn't capable of reading but can only see that which agrees with his own misogyny. Please God don't expect me to love this man who clearly is born of his sister and brother having sex together as teenagers. His writing tells me beyond a doubt that little children are not safe in his company.

But yes, since I would consider myself a spiritual person on a spiritual journey God naturally expects me to respond to this sycophant in the way that might best not create war and allow me to wipe out his genetic strain but rather sow peace. Indeed the St. Francis Prayer, "Make me a channel of your peace" speaks to the kind of manners and speech I really ought to employ when referring to little shits comments on my patient. St. Francis would encourage me to use language of peace and high excellence when I reply to this insectoid like colleague. St. Francis and the commandment, Love thy Neighbour, Jesus quotes would have me speak nicely to and about the rodents that infest high positions of government and beyond and do horrible and ghastly things to the environment, the economy and the poor. .

Which explains why I'd like to live on another planet.

God, couldn't I have better neighbours and not have to actually do the work of being a spiritual person. However, as Diogenes Allen states, "God is as fully active and present in our lives when we are making an effort as when we are not."

Increasingly, I'm finding that the greatest effort is restraining myself. Ranting and raving is really just having temper tantrums. The other is pouting. Somewhere there's this truly beautiful and graceful thing called being a 'gentleman' or 'gentlewoman'. It's called being 'well mannered'. It's called 'civilization'.

So I have to ask if I'd treat my lover, my child, my dog or even my tropical fish the way I would have treated this genetic aberration of a colleague in writing were it not for God's kindness in sharing with me the thoughts of Yancey, Chesterton, Allen, Mark and Jesus. Do I speak about my government the way I speak about my dog. Would I speak about the police or the terrorists or the other guy's political party as Jesus did when he said, "Love them for they know not what they do".


It's all called 'loving your neighbour'. It's the work of character. It's the work of the spiritual journey. It's making the effort. That said, Help me Jesus because it's obviously that I need all the help I can get. So God lend me a little muscle. Put your back to this task of mine, please. Kick me through the goalpost of heaven! Surely my pigskin ass needs kicking and on my own I'd just lie in the field bitching about all these big sweaty men grabbing and jumping all over me. Make me free with one fine kick, please Jesus!

And if it be thy will, take from me this cup that says I have to love my neighbour. Couldn't we just have me love you and me God. Even better couldn't it be me first, God.

Love your neighbour, alright already. I'll try to love my neighbour. Shouldn't the shits do more to be more loveable, though. Especially beaurocrats, judges and politicians and bankers and tax men and especially this colleague of mine whose stupidity has reached a new low.

Yea. Yea. This is about me and you. Mind my own business, I hear you say.

Love your neighbour, whatever!






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