My Friend's Wedding

I enjoyed my friend's wedding. I have hope for her. Her husband is French Canadian. The French Canadians believe more in children and family than us English speaking Canadians. She is Thai and not so far removed from her traditions to go for the 'legal lottery' of divorce, blaming the man, taking the winnings, and baksheeshing the lawyers and judges for the war of the roses. If the divorce court were my only encounter with Canadian justice I'd have long ago turned in my citizenship to become a terrorist against this unholy regime. We punish love in this country. We take advantage of the wounded.
Thankfully I've see the lawyers and judges working in their traditional milieu where the enemies are businesses and the casualities aren't the innoscent. My respect for the courts grows as I age seeing the need for lawyers to defen individuals against the state and to negotiate between different business interests. I also appreciate the need for justice to deal with criminals. But marriage is holy. Children are the children of God. Property of family is for the future of family not the interlopers and the courts.
I'm a slow learner. Three divorces and major set backs each time. Broken promises all round and the feeling in the end like some ship wrecked adventurer. There was no NorthWest Passage. Only now with global warming are seas unthawing. There were no maps for what my beloveds and I set out to do.
The consequence is 50 % divorce, no one knowing if the 'good' or 'bad' marriages by description or design survived. 5 year life expectancies the new shelf life. Yet only 5 years before me the average marriage lasted decades.
Feminists hated men and hated family. Social communists they called men the beougeosie and women the proletariat. John Lennon called 'women the nigger of the world' and we believed it. Before the publishing of the "Hazards of Being Male" and science prevailed over doctrine. Gender didn't matter if you were an agricultural worker. Racism was a slander since Indians had their casts and blacks their big black bossman and now North American Indians have their millionaire chiefs. It was always the haves and the have nots, the rich and the poor.
I was thankful to be born in Canada, son of hard working, Christian, law abiding parents of Scottish origin, believers in education and culture, lovers of the outdoors. I grew up on camping and competence. I was blessed.
I blamed myself for the failure of the marriages, blamed myself with the greatest of self loathing despite the women coming from broken families of addiction, divorce and suicide. The best defence is an offence. I was a provider and protecting. My sperm passed the test. I had no control over the abortions. And everyone was having abortions. Divorce and abortion were the macabre dance of the 80's and 90's. Death stalked us everywhere. Even today the ecologists tell us to kill ourselves to save the planet. Old and jaded I note that none of them are stepping forward to show the way. Even Suzuki would offer himself for euthanasia but blames the immigrants instead. Isolationism and fear are the backlash to the ideology and hope of the late 60's and 70's.
I went to so many weddings when I was young. I was the groom too many times but loved being best man, usher, photographer and friend. Then and today I still love the baptisms and christenings and occasional brisque. My father, now dead, said there'd been a time of funerals and then all his friends too were dead. In the end he longed desperately to join his wife and friend of 55 years, my mother.
It is family I pray for each morning. My brother and sister in law loom large in my loneliness. I am thoroughly amused by my nephews and their lives, thankful for Facebook that I can observe their youth. My dog is as always my friend. Friends are close too but not like those roommates and lovers, the ones I married who seemed like someone I'd known in another life and would again know. I miss them. Whatever irritation they gave, the horror and shame of divorce, their rage and terror, whatever once so frightened me is no longer present. I am weary.
In theatre we had a green room. After the play we laughed together rehashing the bright spots of our performances. I loved the theatre. I loved the psychodrama and dance. I love the leading ladies and the props. The costumes were tiring. Even today I wear clothing for others. At home I go naked or wear just shorts or sarong. In science fiction books I've been enthralled by the new material that breathes and clings like skin to the astonauts,
I loved that the families were all together last night. I loved seeing all the little children. It's like church. Children and babies come out and even the old people are welcome. I sat with academics. These gentle folk whose ways are the product of years of surviving the politics of universities. I once longed to return. I saw the school as a place to learn and leave. Now I'm old and the young never left. I am a different thing than those who were so social and sensitive. I felt their wisdom and kindness in their speech. I'm too wild with the real world. I've been too long in the field to mix with the gentle folk.
I feel like a warrior returned from the war who finds no peace in the home. I'm waiting to be sent back to the north. I'm working now on the frontier of the downtown eastside, ghetto medicine. I see no safety in my future, no security or quiet. The university is too far behind and a different "Glass Bead Game" than the terror of the edge I'm foolishly involved in. I loved the way they talked to students and spoke of the lives of their children. A professor told me he'd taken his sabbatical and taken his children on a tour of the world.
I winced. I'd wanted just that life, years before when my divorce ripped me out of the university and I headed out to the front to protect just such places. I left ex wives their in safety, always a provider and protector.
I am a doctor too. I give solace and care, though more and more, it's humor for we're all aging and the parts are wearing and the thought are slow in coming to terms with the losses and mortality. The fear each day is like nails on frozen panes of ice. I'm reminded years ago of people coming to find me to talk people out of trees on bad trips or bad acid.
Everything is going to be alright. All is well. This too shall pass. It doesn't make it better if you cut yourself. There's no bridge high enough. What makes you think there will be an end?
A wedding is a beginning. The community of family and friends gather for an ancient ceremony. We pray and give our blessing for the couple to prosper and proliferate. Maybe they will find peace when the greatest minds of Judaism and Islam continue to fight it out today in the Middle East. Even today the greatest Christian nation in the world, the United States of America, is on the verge or war, economic or other with China which was the last resort for communism and the religion of aetheism. Russia killed 80 million, china a hundred and twenty million and America is condemned for the imprisonment of a million. Things could always be better.
In Canada our problems rarely get beyond the French and the English. The Idle No More American Indian movement threatens to escallate from passive aggression to all out war. In Canadian marriages there is no sex as a consequence just teenagers who smoke more marijuana than any other Industrial nation, choosing illusion over reality, unwilling to come up with a solution now that the communes and love in and wars of their parents have failed to find a solution for living together peacefully. Better to talk about the environment. Canadian women are considered the best housekeepers, for after divorce they always get the house.
Today couples often live in their parents home, like the third world here, where real estate is beyond the price of the young and old men like me drive sportscars, the youth making a virtue of cycling, healthy and as fast some times as my motorcycles.
I liked that there was some 'voluntary' and not 'commercial' in the wedding, unique and a kind of 'party' that the couple gave for us all as we gathered and gifted them. I'd just been to a rock concert and there the corporate flavour of that very slick venue was so different from the wonderful event of great spaces and pauses and people not knowing what they were to do despite the best efforts of a beautiful master of ceremonies. It was herding cats at best. Gilbert my dog was there too barking to be joined by all his girlfriend, the beautiful and bright women who have cared for him over the years. It was a joyful event.
I loved seeing Aim and Marc tooking for each other, touching each other, exchanging rings and finally kissing in public. Tears came to my eyes. Hope springeth eternal.
The couple beside me had been together more than 40 years and those across from me some 30

The plane is leaving . I must go.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Thai Wedding - Aim and Marc

Aim and Marc were officially married today. It was a Thai ceremony though Mark is French Canadian.  Thai dancers and Thai music. Aim looked thoroughly beautiful in the traditional gown whereas Marc look regal in suit and sash.  The opening was a ceremony of challenges for Mark, questions he had to answer , which were very funny when put by the youngest members in the audience.  Then the Bride and Groom were united and gave fruit dishes to their parents. A Thai ceremony of marriage with exchange of rings was followed by hand washing purification by all in attendance.  This was followed by the legal notary public marriage finalized by a kiss.  Parents signed the official documents as witnesses.  Thai dancers performed and fine food was served. What a wonderful evening in Port Moody looking out at the boats at anchor.

Thai Wedding

Aim is marrying Marc today. There's a part in the ceremony where Marc has to break through Aim's family members to propose. It's like those old Greek stories and golden apples. The groom must proove himself worthy and committed. Obviously Marc is head over heels in love. Aim adores him and the families are delighted to get rid of their adult children.
I just thought it might spice things up a bit if I showed Aim's picture around the Bruce Lee Fighting Academy. It's a tropical dress affair without tuxedos. I hope Marc has some body armor for this part of the wedding.
If he makes it, and I'm sure he will, he then begs Aim's family to allow him to marry their daughter. After that there's the romantic part where the girls go gaga and the guys nap.
Gilbert's coming. Aim called him the 'Humper". I've explained to him that after Aim's married her leg is off limits.
The sun has come out. I like going to other people's weddings. Then there's the baby announcements to come, the kids birthdays, anniversaries, kids graduations, their marriages and all kinds of party occasions. Families entwine.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Commercial Street

The Friday rush hour traffic was too backed up to sit for long in the hot sun. Gilbert in his fur coat was glad when I pulled off Hastings opting for a coffee and cookie at the esteem able Continental Coffee. A veritable blue white tattooed Viking goddess served me while Gilbert sheltered in the shade.
Reading the latest Science magazine I learned of the STEM the science,technology,engineering, and mathematics educational push to reboot North America all too long mired in flakey politics and self celebrating arty stupidity. Even the greatest artists of their day were scientists whereas today so much revolves around fatuous fashion. Having had straight A's in arts and science I appreciate the value of both but know that far too many in the arts crowd have developed severe entitlement. Meanwhile true scientists are bypassed for the pseudoscience that is stupid enough for the ignorant to grasp.
Justin Troudeau meanwhile is promoting marijuana use in Canada where the greatest number of teens smoke dope. I smoked my share of dope when it was the strength of beer rather than the 100 proof acid dope today. Not a bad election strategy given the billions of dollars in illegal returns looking to protect their criminal past in the whitewashed future.
I don't think the aging baby boomers are so keen to have their increasing non English speaking care givers stoned out of their gourds and armed with catheters. Quebec, least science literate of the provinces and recently most corrupt of city halls has the most dope smoking in the country.
There really are alot of beautiful people on Commercial enjoying the fabulous sunshine.
Aim and Marc are getting married tomorrow in traditional Thai wedding. Marc is a very astute French Canadian with a great sense of humor and Aim is a brilliant and beautiful Thai scholar. They make a great couple and they'll make gifted babies.
Gilbert is invited.
I'm looking forward to motorcycling on Sunday. God is good. Thank you, Hallelujah! amen!



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon's Journey into the Afterlife

Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon's Journey into the Afterlife, by Eben Alexander MD.  I am half way through this incredible story, moved to tears, and utterly astonished that the man is alive to share his journey to the centre of the universe.
I'd heard about this book from several colleagues and patients, so knew it was a "must read".  I remember the "Shack" was a book that came at me.  A bit like the Hound of Heaven. Eventually a friend gave me a copy as a gift of the Shack. Then Richard Rohr's book "Falling Upwards" was another that hounded me like this Eben Alexander masterpiece.
Reading Eben Alexander though is like reading the most extraordinary ER story set in the Holy.  He is a leading Harvard scientist, researcher, world renowned academic and surgeon.  I can read his celebrated technical and scientific papers in my foremost office journals.  Yet here is his story of not waking up because he hascontracted a rare and deadly meningitis.
The book is written on the outside and inside. On the outside it's all the doctors and nurses and family dealing with a patient and loved one in the Intensive Care Unit fighting to save a life long after it's known he's probably gone. The long tense days described are science, mystery, adventure and family love. 
On the inside it's Eben's story of his experience with spirituality.  It  is probably more than a Near Death Experience.
I'm reminded of Spiritual Brain by Mario de Beuregaard, the neuroscientists' book about his PET Scan research on Carmelite Nuns meditating.  He begins by laying out what is "science" and what is 'pseudoscience" describing how 'political and monetary' interests have worked to maintain the 'status quo' of luddite thinking about today's  Rennaissance in Science, where physics and spirituality are meeting full on.  What we think in the subatomic realm affects what we see. Creation is extremely creative indeed. 
Eben Alexander's timeless journey inward while his brain is  is a truly miraculous story.  I read it like I've been there with a deep sense of peace and hope and thanks.
Dr. Moody researched NDE's decades ago.  Nothing learned then has been disproven. Indeed there is even more substantial evidence of 'life after death', consciousness beyond the body. Since we've recorded brain waves stopping and heart stopping and patients reviving only to tell the people in the room what they were doing long after they were officially declared dead.
The limits of our science and understanding are what Kurt Vonnegut called "peepholes on reality'.
 Real science is humble and open minded, not so open minded that our brains fall out but a lot more mindful than the merely brainy ones would have us believe. The soul rejoices in the whole.

Bad Monkey

Just finished reading Carl Hiaasen's Bad Monkey. Picked it up at the airport, read it on the plane, in the airport, in the cab, at home, at night, in the morning and was a little annoyed that work and need to sleep interrupted my reading the story.  It's so Carl Hiaasen, crazy characters, improbable events but simply hilarious twists and turns in a glorious southern love story with lots of very serious human humour. It all begins with an arm caught by a fisherman which the police don't want in their jurisdiction for fear it will affect tourist trade.  There's all the usual white collar corruption folk who get the full effects of bizarre karma in addition to the island people who think the tourists are crazier than their own celebrities.  Like Hunter S. Thompson and Shakespeare, Carl Hiaasen is one of a kind. No one tells a tale as well as he does.  It's Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Country Joe and the Fish with Keith Richards playing the melody line. His writing is a lateral shift in consciousness that just giggles on and on between the belly laughs. In the end it's all about diapered monkeys, roach counts and kissing in the morgue. I love Carl Hiaasen.  I am so thankful I found "Sick Puppy" many years ago.  I have been enjoying this unique Florida flavour ever since.  Bad Monkey!

Spokane - on motorcycle

This is the editted version of the video I made and published earlier. I've taken out the stops where I was standing waiting for lights to change.  The down side of this is the Steve Bell music in the background isn't as clear.  I really did enjoy listening to Steve Bell.  So inspiring and uplifting.  The video is perkier and only 5 minutes as opposed to more than twice that long.  It's a better view of the city too.  I'm learning about Mac's Imovie editting program and the Hero3 camera.  I loved riding around the beautiful city of Spokane Sunday on my Harley Electraglide.