March 2020 We made it!

« We made it! » she wrote.  « We can surely survive till October’.

We’d just met coughing after the second bout of flu this year, sick and tired of another winter.  The cold, the rain, the winds, the darkness.  I have had all my life to listen to the entitlement of Equatorial and other Southern people complaining about their lives all the while I’ve lived in cold and darkness half my life.. They take so much for granted and the media never talks about the poor plight of the average Canadian.

Now I’m at an age where every week or month the news reports another celebrity or icon dying.  Meanwhile friends my age and younger are dying. I feel like I’m suddenly walking through a mine field.  Those around me younger don’t get it.  They live in the perfect denial I had even five years ago. Now my quiescent hypochondriac is has risen to almost palpable reality. 

I remember the WWI vets , telling me « if the bullet doesn’t have your name on it, there’s nothing to worry about. ». 

Life is a sexually transmitted terminal illness that ends in death. It has  100% mortality.

I wonder about taking risks.  I sense little remaining time. Am I doing the most I can?  Is going to work what I should be doing?  

(Please pass over shit and pick up where traumatic dissociation ends)

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( MIND DERAILMMENT - Broken Transmission - quantum slip from reality to self pity! )

This year I’ve been devastated by the corruption in government, by a liar, traiter sociopath in power who claims that he is Canada’s PM but denies national reality or patriotism. I’m a post national person he claims giving a way my pension and using my tax money to fund terrorists and criminals.  I am complicit with this sociopath.  I want a national strike and vote on non confidence. I want to not be a part of his evil and yet increasingly he is bringing ‘his people’ in to replace me. Scab voters.  

Older and weary and feeling more vulnerable every day I want to be more with my kind. I want to be with people who do not see me as the enemy or see themselves and entitled to the little I have left. I see my police no longer protecting me. I see dangerously insane people on the streets. I see all manner of laws being broken. Increasingly I’m literally afraid to go outside.  I have had my dog and my life threatened and no one considers it an issue. I know so many older people who like me are no longer walking their dogs in dog parks and in the forest because they are rightly afraid of thugs. I’ve been accosted several times by young crazed men with pit bulls off leash.  

 (CONTINUED  WHINING) 

More fear. Worry. Absurdity.

(Here I attempt to lasso the runaway thoughts of my broken abused and traumatized mind - Travelling Wilburies Handle Me With Care music playing in the back ground)

I meditate. I pray. I go to church. But I don’’t know if this is what I should be doing. I could just pull up stakes and head south forever.  I could kill myself.  I could get a job away from people. 

Increasingly entitled angry people are threatening and the College of Physicians and Surgeons repeatedly represents psychopaths, choosing the sides of known liars over the proven true and reliable.  The courts are increasingly making bizarre decisions and allowing blockades of roads that cost so many good people jobs and billions of dollars.  

(The mind lasso slipped off the runaway stallion. The gearbox is grinding. The automatic doesn’t work and the new vehicles don’t have manual - I need a manual spiritual override on this jallopy mind!)

I wanted to do good, to be on the good side and now I feel like the 1930’s Germans must have felt when Hitler and his brown shirts were on the rise or in Russian when Lennon, Malitov,Stalin and Trotsky were on their murderous rage assasinating the Czar and then killing the democratic parliament to install his dictatorship.

I am struggling to be loving and forgiving.  I’m weary.  I have compassion fatigue they say. Easy for them. They’ve never been on the front lines. They chose to sit in the back lines and criticize. Fewer and fewer of us are at the front. Fat cat arrogant swaggering rich judgemental cowards hide in offices far removed from reality and come up with more and more self serving laws and rules that make it utterly impossible to do anything at the front where people lash out at the faces they see.  The duplicitous leadership are so far removed from reality and so superior. 

(Whine, whine, whine!)

I’m tired. (Now ain’t that the truth!)

I wonder if I’m just worn down.  I prayed that the stoned idiot would not be returned then I felt like I was in an Invasion of the Body Snatchers script when he was re elected.  The CBC News plays its look at Trump game so Canadians are taught to hate hate hate the American all the while the local PM and Quebec are stealing them blind and doing the most despicable evil. All these ridiculous eco terrorists smug and superior say nothing about all the raw sewage Quebec and Malaysia and China are dumping in the rivers and oceans. Here we are   Paying terrorists murderers 10 million dollars and letting in pedophiles and psychopaths unvetted and taking back ISIS killers. It’s all appalling to me.  Meanwhile the police are just following orders and the parliament is no longer representing anything I believe it.  No law and order.  And a huge anti citizen defending themselves or even lawful hunters or gun owners being demonized.  More and more taxes on us while everywhere theres’ billions of criminals activity protected by the inactivity of our police and courts. Money laundering in the billions.  The PM constantly unethical and he just fires the Attorney General and locallly the Premier is destroying opportunity for business and increasing taxes.  Everyone who questions it is silenced or harrassed.

(More whining. More self pity. Suck it up, buttercup)

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I am thankful my friend says that the sun has returned. Daylight saving is coming back.  The sunshine yesterday was wonderful. I walked the dog, the old blind dog, I’m increasingly afraid I can’t protect myself from bullies and thugs the government protects.  I fear for my friends who have children because it’s like a third world country now.  The good are the enemy.

But this is all the mood talking. I have this whole tool box on positive thinking. I do affirmations and mantras. I really should not even look at the news anymore. It’s so disappointing. So much fear mongering. So much lies. The media is a disease in Canada. The country is divided by the lies of mainstream media and such pablum as ‘diversity is our strength’.  Black is White.  I’d have to drop acid or smoke a whole lot of dope to even understand the psychobabble that’s being promoted by CBC news.  

(The shit and puss in the brain have been drained. Forward gear again)

Yet here it is March.  She’s right. We’ve made it another winter. I’ve got over my second flu.  The Coronoavirus scare didn’t help. I miss my denial. I miss feeling immortal. I’m tired of chronic pain and joint instability. My knee has been better this last few weeks. I almost had to buy a new car because mine was so low it was utterly painful to get out of the little beast. Now the knee’s better.  My back comes and goes like a chronic complainer.

There’s a future of more pain. Then I weigh the sunshine into the mix and realize that it’s definitely positive. When I remember to take a deep breath and love the scents of spring and the clean air I am truly blessed. I like my body some days.  When I’m not having to do masculine things with it. When it’s just moseying along. I like that I’m a live.  

I’m so excited by camping. I just love getting out of the city and enjoying the woods and streams. It’s another year.  Gilbert loves the walks in the wilderness. He loves walks period but I can see him shift from sniffing for Fifi to sniffing for coyote, bear and wolves and grouse.  I’ve a hankering for target practice this spring. I love doing that. There’s fishing too.  The winter is fairly barren but spring and summer come alive.

I’m really so thankful. I am blessed. Thank you Jesus.  Thank you God. Thank you Holy Spirit.   March is here. We have made it through another Canadian winter.  In Vancouver it’s so much better than other parts of Canadian Winter that go on for another couple of months while we’re seeing blossoms and getting rid of rain coats and parkas for spring jackets.  Now I’m going to shower and dress and walk Gilbert outdoors in the sunshine. I’m so blessed. I just need to stop the news flow from Facebook.  Politics and media are too much negativity and fear mongering. I need to focus on the positive. I need to be rebuilding my frayed self at the end of day of work and a week of work. 

So many people daily tell me how utterly bad it is. It is too. They’re even dying faster than most. But worse it’s the daily hearing of poverty. I never had so many people tell me about how they couldn’t eat or have a place to stay. These are not young people. They’re old. I can turn off the news but it comes into my office and I see that the government has stolen the pensions of people, stolen their homes and the greed of this leadership is apparent in my utterly depressed and demoralized work.  Of course the pills don’t work.  There’s no purpose. No hope. 

(Derailed again and my mind is like a minefield and boneyard. So many work triggers)

We had that little foreign beast Greta haranguing Canadians about her priviledged life and grandiose arrogance yet Canada is the A plus student in the world while all the boorish losers get a pass because the girls won’t stand up to the men with gun, the Middle East UN dictators or the Chinese Communist killers. Instead these know it all s come and tell Canadians we’re not good enough.  She’s a Sophie Trudeau. One of the priviledged like the Obamas or the Bush’s who suddenly calls us working folk bad.  Hypocricy today is so thick’s it’s an oil spill in Eden.

Now there I was derailed again. 

My friend said the mind is like broken radio and the receiver skips. Told me to put it on the God Channel and hold on tight with both hands.

My mind going along looking at the world gratefully only to be hijacked fly the UN dictated lies and narratives. 

Here I am about to dress in good clothes after a warm shower with Irish spring soap and am going out for a Sunday walk too late rising for church but ready to talk to God about why he doesn’t smite all the politicians in Ottawa and Victoria and especially those disgusting perverts in the UN.  

I’m going to plug my ears and begin singing lullabies soon.  He was found under blankets in a fetal position singing lullabies. 

Maybe I’ll find my ear phones and play music while I walk the dog. He doesn’t care if I’m listening to Bach to try and shut out the dirty smell of last weeks blockades and all the criminals who get away with destruction while I feel that the police will arrest me if I look at my cell phone while driving. I can set a train on fire and the police will watch me do it and take no action and my PM will celebrate my behaviour but if I have a coffee in my car driving to work I can be pulled over and fined.  

I’m taxed to death already and all the police do is tax me more but here’s a bunch of foreign communists blockading roads destroying commerce and all that the Police do is say « tut tut’.  There’s actually professionals out there and they’re missing work and having this love in thing which was cool when I was a kid but now stinks like a dead fish when I just want to get to work without more drama. 

I am going to say ‘om’ again. I’m going to pray, Lord Jesus Christ Have mercy on me a Sin......All shall be well , all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.  Yes life is Good . Thank you Jesus.  

Nostalgia hits

When nostalgia hits like an old piano slipping harness on a wooden staircase

I’m knocked to my knees

Breath caught in unfolding gasps of emotional pain

You flash before my eyes like yesterday

I’m no longer here

I’m in a rabbit hold of memory

Tears of worship and regret

Such sweet forgiveness.

I was there I say, I am here now.

We were young once

So cool

So hip, slick and cool

And the future was to be chased

Ideas were explosive

Faces left impressions like footprints on the moon

Love and youth and songs and colours and scents.

Not better times. Different times. Innocence. 

Not yet bittersweet, just sweet.

First time lovers

First time everything.

Walking on the beach

Her bikini

The mountain rising above me.  The day growing the climb continuing steps and hands

There were always girls

And family

And friends and dangerous times.

Exotic places

Near death.

There was meaning and not so much blood

Not so many hours of grief and tears.

The evil ones had not stood outside the jails of their minds forcing you into their little spiritual cages

Your wings hadn’t been clipped and your feet hadn’t been bust by hammers

You saw a morning like no other. The whales off the coast. The Galaxy above the Sierras.

The northern lights in the arctic.  Sun sets at sea. Trade winds

Tree forts.  Bicycling forever and ever

Mini skirts Lingerie. 

Smooth skin and smiles with laughter of friends. Dinner parties. Music.

Guitars and drums.  Tapestry.  The winter outside, the warmth in side.

Nostalgia hits.

I’m in my first surgery.

Nostalgia hits I’m hunting with my father.

I’m catching my first fish.

My mother is teaching me to pray on my knees beside my bed.

There are library and more libraries and places to explore.

Nostalgia hits and I’m out of this day and out of this moment

Like Petit mal

People are staring.

I’m sometimes talking about something mechanical here and now 

Only to find myself babbling about yesteryear looking at a moments of exquisite charm

Tears welling in my eyes.
It’s like I only just realized how many decades ago that was

Nostalgia hits
Below the belt.

Thursday Alive and Stylin

I woke feeling better.  Last weekend it was touch and go. I remembered that weekend years back I was just as sick or worse. I bought the Buell Blast needing something to live for.  This last weekend I bought a little inflatable fishing platform.  Very inexpensive by comparison but same idea. An anchor thown into the future to kedge with. I was so sick I slept 16 hours.  2 days ago I began to revive and yesterday got a half day of work in before the fatigue took over.

This fall I got sick on the plane from India.  Then I was flying to Ottawa and back.  Plane flights seem a common theme this year. Also the nocebo of the coronavirus pandemic.  I’m in that age range where a flu can take me out. Malthus was right about poverty and disease.  

Nothing keeps me going forward more than the prospect of camping. I live to camp.   Talking with Laura this week about planning the first trip with the Adventurer Camper out to Harrison Lake. Must call to make reservations 3 or 4 days weekend. If I don’t take the rest and time off well planned I’ll only collapse and cause chaos with sickness.  I just don’t have the stamina or the foolhardiness.  

I’ve been fiscally responsible and worked hard all my life only to watch this government just waste money relationships and resources.  These blockades are causing billions of dollars loss. There’s milllions of dollars of foreign money coming into Canada to disrupt the country.  Everyone is breaking laws including the PM and the Police are sitting eating donuts.  Meanwhile I believe if I jaywalk a thousand police and the who judicial system will fall on me or any other law abiding Canadian citizen.  

The oldest law is the Chinese law of the fish. There are big fish and little fish. The little fish must be fast and numerous.  I’m tired at work of seeing everyone trying to get paid not to work and get me to validate their ‘choice’.All the doctors I know are sicker than so many of their patients but come to work only to be abused by patients angry demanding and entitled threatening and frankly increasingly frightening. There’s an incident weekly if not daily. Unrealistic demands and covert threat of retaliation.  I can’t can’t shake the image of people threatening to kill me and my dog and the lack of concern and in fact the implication that I must have attracted it.  Yes, I do. I’m working. I’m in the public view.  Laura tells me she fears attack on the buses downtown every week and street people grab at her beccause she ‘s small.  Fewer and fewer doctors want to be on the front lines.  Now there’s these criminals blockades and tent cities and tax paying citizens are called the problem. We lack compassion and won’t give up our homes. Meanwhile the activitists are making more money than I am and the natives are even being paid.
It’s tax season so I’m depressed to see my incomes halved and given to Victoria and Ottawa for KY Jelly and Lip gloss, dope, and booze.  Party city for Policians and I feel deeply betrayed.  My taxes going to pay for terrorists and worse.
Weinstein in jail.
Meanwhile there are babies being born and infants thriving. It’s wonderful to see the children.

Gilbert is well and a source of constant entertainment.  

The women in the workplace are positive and humorous.

I like my work. I’m kind of in limbo.  I’m at that retirement age but enjoy making money and fear if I stop I’ll not return. I’d seriously like to pay off my truck.  Never have I known as much as I do today and the challenges at work are always old news. I remember the first scarey time I saw something but now that was 10 or 20 cases ago. Seems a waste to step down and yet I get sick and feel I need a breaks. I need to go camping. Lying on the lawn chair in the sun.  I need the sun. The winter’s are always too long here.  The rain wears.  The days are sunnier though. I’ve no reason to complain. Just bad attitude.  Give your head a shake.  Give thanks. Stop with the self pity.  

I like walking the dog and sitting in the hot tub.

I really want to go camping. I really am looking forward to the wood fire and the barbecue.  I love sleeping in the peace of the deep outdoors   I like walking Gilbert in the woods. This year I’ve this crazy idea to fish more seriously.  Yet I’m looking forward to riding about on the motorcycle with the rifle target practicing.  

I pray. I meditate. I exercise. I’ve really enjoyed sleeping and dreaming. My dreams are so rich in old friends and family and dogs.  I’m often sailing.  There’s always water.  Sometimes there ‘s meetings too.  Even better I’ve met my grandmothers in my dreams.  Lovely ladies.

I really am blessed. Thank you Jesus.  Thank you for all the gifts.  Thanks for the care and love. Thanks for restoring me to life.  Thanks for getting me through the fever and delirium.  Thanks for the faith and hope.  

Can’t wait to be camping.  

Gilbert the Cockapoo, 10 years old today

Today is Gilbert’s birthday. He’s 10 years old.  That’s a wonder and a miracle.  My buddy, that long, so many adventures. So many cuddles.
Plane flights, car trips, boating,  truck and camper excursions.  All the friends.  He’s a blessing.  Blessed by the Bishop.  A church dog and a puppy that gleefully showered under the shit of the  first cow he met. I had to rescue him fearing the cow would step back onto this crazy puppy glorying in a steady flow of shit.
Like he’d arrived at a candy arcade. It was almost as good as the dead fish he rolled in on the way to work one morning.  I’ve never been able to look at a perfume counter without thinking of the eau de dead fish my dog would revel in.
I loved his company hunting and sailing.  I loved his company riding on the motorcycle. Ride for Dad. I loved his company bicycling.  He’s been a constant companion in all the play and fellowship and coming to work as a loving therapy dog as well.  I have the fondest memories of his visitting Dad and my brother Ron. Dad called him “monkey dog”.He’s a good guy.  He alerts me to risk.  More false positives for sure.  But he’s on duty. He finds the grouse and raises them for me to shoot. When he  became blind and his hunting duties were reduced he just increased his cuddle time.He loves his friends Max and Dave and Shane but his best friend of all is Emory. It’s taken some time but Hank is warming up to him. He likes his  Corgi mate too  and a few other friends like Lucy are best buddies. Down east he sure likes his cousins,  Pepper and Eva.Laura is his mommy but he just loves women. He’s a little lady’s man.  A love bug. Laura’s “Little Bear.”  My sister in law Adell is a special favourite. Then there’s Belinda and Karen at work and his friend Anna with all her human puppies. He loves the Bustards out camping. Likes visiting Kirk. Loved getting into trouble with Tom. Loved George.  Always  demands girls  rub his tummy forever, roiling over on his back just to make it easier for them. . All my female patients have been commandeered for tummy rub duties. He misses Joannea,Hannah and Aim who worked with me and he thought were his assistants. He just loved to drag Aim about the community on their walks,. “He’s so strong,” she’d exclaim.  Gilbert would puff up.
Today he’s 10.  A lot of fun years.  I’ve got to get out and pick up some steak to barbecue and share. He loves to share. He’s just so happy to  be part of all we’re doing.  He especially loves to cozy in between Laura and me on the bed ensuring he gets twice the pets.  I’m convinced he’s here to teach us love. He's here to teach us to have fun and love.

Valentine’s Day Harrison Hotsprings Resort

Laura and I had a great time at Harrison Hotsprings Resort.  Gilbert loved it as usual.  Laura was the best looking girl there  I told her after our first night there that she was too young for me. I was going to have to date older women. The hotsprings was essential but they really need an in house  chiropracter. I retrospect I could have booked a massage. It really was a fun time for an old guy.

I walked Gilbert around the lake in the morning picking up coffee and our breakfast sandwiches from Suzy’s Cafe.  

We so enjoyed returning to the the hotsprings each day. . So many young people in love and a few of us good looking  older  folk.  Gilbert loved the walks around the lake. The geese and ducks were returning. I played  with the Go Pro and IPhone Pro 11 cameras.    We loved room service. The pepper corn steak was superb.

We watched Parasites and truly loved it, a Korean movies subtitled about a con artist family that moved in on an architect and his wife encountering another con artist couple competing over the same family. Incredible plot and great acting. The next night we watched 1917 and also loved it. Superb stark cinematography. Moving true story.  A splendid weekend.  Typical of Harrison’s .  The Harrison Resort is the best, so elegant and such great service and dog friendly. Before Gilbert we used to love dining and dancing at the Copper Room. 

I’ve been going to Harrison’s every year for decades. I’ve camped in the campgrounds or along the lake. We stayed in many of the hotels and cabins. Last year we came up with the camper. Then we use the public hot springs pool. The resort is the most elegant.  Special. 

Harrison Hotsprings, Harrison Lake and the environs is just a never ending wonderland so close to Vancouver but another world away.

Valentines’ with Laura and Gilbert was the best.  Thank you Harrison Hotsprings Resort.  

Gratitude Thursday on a February Morning

Thank you Lord God of Creation, my higher power, the essence of being, the friend I talk to and feel I am heard by. Thank you for prayer and meditation. Give me the strength and sustenance and focus to do my time with you more often and more lovingly.  I’m quite bad at the soul gymnasium thing. I make the time for communion much as I shower and shave. I’m tired too often and self absorbed and egotistical. Thank you for your love and toleralance.

Thank you for my family, as odd and peculiar as they are, remarkable and unique, and my friends who are quite beyond me. They are truly extraordinary and I’m blessed to know them. Thank you for my meeting last night and the opportunity to see the souls who had hidden from themselves and others in the cloak of darkness of addiction and fear. Thank you that there was enough love and hope that they poked their heads out of the abyss and hell to see if the sun was shining. Thank you for the laughter and support of countless men and the reminder of community and village and care and soulfulness. Thank you for the opportunity to watch the fog lifting and the numbness of lost experience departing from another wounded and trapped soul seeking freedom. Thank you for those who were there for me when I too was so beat up by psychopaths and life and stupidity.  

Thank you for innocence and experience.  May the journey be safer and less raw but thank you too for the adrenaline and the rush. Thank you for the wind in the sails and the wind in my hair. Thank you for  motorcycles, boats,  trucks and cars and bicycles. Thank you for movement. Thank you for my legs and my complaining knees and woeful back and distracting shoulders and my self absorbed neck. Thank you for the knuckles on my hands that scream and cry out like life is torture when it’s really just a lark.  Thank you for the blossomoning of flowers and the morning light. Thank you for the stars and moon.  Thank you for the sun.

Thank you for all the blessings. Thank you for today. Thank you for Gilbert. Thank you for creation and the relationship of us in his multidimensional reality that gave us Jesus and the Kardasians. Thank you for Dr. Houston and his newest book. I so look forward to reading his ‘Worldly Christian’. What an amazing optimistic man and what a great follower of Christ.  I am truly blessed to know such inspirational loving people despite my own worm like existence and love of mud.

Thank you for the dance and music. Thank you for the mystery. Thank you for all your blessings, for grace and spirituality.  

Thank you Lord Jesus.  

Saturday Morning in February

I am grateful. I’ve walked Gilbert along the Brunette River.  It’s not raining.  There’s even blue sky and some sunshine breaking through the clouds. I’ve stretched on the fences along the path.  The water is down from the days of the torrential rains. I’d never seen the river so high as last week. Laura says all the crocuses and snow drops and tulips are appearing in the West End. I’m in Burnaby and they were just appearing before another dump of snow.  Now the snow is gone. I’m thinking of riding my motorcycle. As kids we’d just go for rides on our bicycles.  It was fun to explore the parks.  The motorcycle rides in the city aren’t as pleasant.  I’d have to go out to the country to get that feeling of relaxation. Winding roads and little traffic.

President Trump was acquitted this week. It’s been years of the Democrats not getting beyond the election, constantly playing legal and bureaucratic games to restore themselves to power.  I see it as free world and capitalism versus communism.  There are no communists or people wanting sharia law in America in the Republican Party. Bernie, though is a card carrying communist and at least 4 democrats are in favour of the Muslim Brotherhood, the international terrorist group. Trudeau and his family are communists.  Fidel Castro and China. I struggle with the notion of ‘One World Order’.  The central government in theory sounds good but historically they’ve been like the Tower of Babel.  Corruption and control.  

Brexit has finally happened. Another good thing. The EU was increasingly satanic. 

The UN politically is lost with their muslim anti Israel block voting.  Such despicable lies. Now the whole history of WWII is being rewritten by the Sharia Communists.  

I feel old.  I only worried about war as a youth. Give Peace a Chance.  Love.  I stood in the middle.  War for defence but not for offence.  I had no difficulty with the British Empire. In an age of empires it was certainly superior to the Dutch, French and Turkish.

As Aryan Celts we could argue the same way the blacks do and demand compensation for the Arab, Black and Chinese and Slavic invasions.  Our people reigned from Indian, through Persia to Russia and Ireland. The Kurds are Indo European people. We were the blue eye blond aryans and the black haired light dark skinned aryans.  Invasions and conquering went on throughout history until this bizarre retrospective legal ‘compensation’ business and the idea of selected ‘terms of reference’.  We can talk about the Civil War but we can’t talk about Culloden or more importantly Vienna.  The Irish Potato famine. The Soviet massacre of the Ukraine. The Turkish genocide of the Armenians. The Pol Pot genocide of Cambodia. The Chinese invasion and barbaric destruction of the Buddhists of Tibet.

I’m weary of the selected narratives of the media.  That’s One World Order.  The media with it’s very limited ‘choice’ of stories’.  The funny Reuter displays of a hundred media personnel parrotting the same story in the same way.  Propaganda.  

Meanwhile I’ve continued to seek God.  Each day I begin with prayer and meditation asking to know God’s will and to have the power to carry it out. I allign my breathing and being with the OM, One Mind.  I am the bubble make me the sea.  I’m seeking the inner reality of Jung’s Collective Unconscious. I’m repeating the name of Jesus, what a beautiful name it is.  It means God within and Christ means God will come again. Ive taken to repeating the part in the St. Patrick Breastplate prayer , Christ in front of me, Christ behind me, Christ to the right of me, Christ to the left of me, Christ above me, Christ below me, Christ within me, Christ in the words and thoughts of everyone I meet today and Christ in my words and thoughts. I’ve asked daily to be a better God to be a Channel for Christ as in the St. Francis prayer, make me a channel for your peace.  I’ve tried to impart whatever knowledge and care I can to comfort and help those people who come to me. I feel oddly like I’m on the bench waiting for God to play me. I’m past the age of retirement but have no desire to do anything else immediately. I love the people I work with. They really are stirling  characters and overall I feel like I am contributing. It’s important work not like I’ve done in the past. At times in my career I’ve felt very strongly drawn and driven but now I’m kind of coasting.  The College of Physicians and Surgeons Assistant Registrar said ,”It’s just a job”.  I was told not to be a doctor but to act like a doctor. I’m encouraged to be a ‘drug pusher for the multinationals’.  I used to believe my role as physician and psychiatrist was to help people be the best they could be but mostly people just want me to sign their papers so they can get money or get out of work. Fewer and fewer want me to treat even their symptons .There’s so much secondary gain and the whole industry has shifted sideways. Doctors are no longer professionals in the Osler sense but defined as ‘health care workers.”  One of the beurocrats hired by the Minister of Health told me medicine was a ‘consumer product and that I was just there to assist in their consumption. Another told me it’s all ‘just entertainment’ and that I should be entertaining.  I struggle with paying taxes because billions of Canada’s money is now going to promote abortion and euthanasia.  I preferred when we just killed as Canadians in the old politically incorrect ways of war.  This politically correct killing of the helpless and defenceless is disheartening.

I have days when I’m so overwhelmed with doubt i just want to die.

The masculine in me fought the killing.  I look back on a life of fighting the corruption and unethical and immoral abuses mostly of government.  Bad men and bad women in government. The hijacking of the good apparatusof law and order by communists and killers. Now we have Sharia and 15th century Muslim military religion coupling with western legal institutions. I see invasion and parasitolgy. There seems no symmetry.  Such aggressive threatening jihadism and arrogance. ISIS is pure.  But that’s all just the propaganda.
 On an individual basis I’m delighted with my Persian Zorastrians friends and Muslims who are akin to the Chstmas and Easter Christians. I’ve all these moderate friends and colleagues and we huddle in the midst of raving lunatics all promoted and protected by government apparently intent on reviving either the Brown Shirts or the Bolsheviks or the Jihadists.

I think of sex changes as a way to get out of the front lines. I’d like to sit by a campfire and worry about marshmallows. I’d rather be raped again than be shot at again or to face the Burocratic Borg of the Corrupt Establishment with their unholy alliances and authoritarian stupidity. I think without testosterone I’d not frighten these castrated government leaders in medicine.
 I think in a skirt I’d not be attacked.  Sadly transgenders are most attacked. The world is simply not a safe place. Better to trust in Jesus.
I like skirts. I’ve just ordered another kilt. It’s healthy not to have your balls bound in tight pants.  I liked the David Bowie big baggy pants I used to wear.  I should get back to dance. When I was in the world of dance I was far from the life and death of fentanyl and AIDS. Now there’s a new virus.  I am of an age where in so many societies and throughout the ages I was considered a survivor and wise but here today I’m mocked with ‘shut up, boomer’.  Women constantly  tell me that since I haven’t a womb I should shut up. All the diversity cult tell me to die. I ate Chinese take out last night and thought of my brother. We sat and ate and talked in Yan’s.

I dream of getting on my boat and heading out to sea. The world was no better with me gone for 25 days alone at sea.  I’d gladly be back on my boat in the ocean breezes following the tropical winds.  But it’s all hard work. What I really like doing is lying on the couch with my nearby refridgerator and the Ethiopian coffee and the netflix tv and this ipad and keyboard. T camper is calling to me.  Thank you God and Brother Lawrence for this time and place, Thank you for every time you help me get my head in the same room as my ass. Be here now. Hallelujah.

I ask God what I am to do. Ill muddle along. There’s no burning bush.  Gilbert’s licking his privates. Laura is coming later. I got us Carmen Tickets. Tomorrow we’ll go to church. I don’t know they’ll have an answer. I love that the kids are having children and raising little humans.  I love the living.