Thursday – Warmer & Wetter ?

Thursday, February 4th, 2016  § +8˚C / +46˚F — Sunny & Bright in Atlantic Canada @ 3:30 pm § Andrew Millar’s Birthday

Yard Zen Corner Feb 4th, 2016

This was today at about 4:15 pm. I had to move slightly to avoid getting the realy bright sun burning through the centre of this shot.

Yard Zen Corner Feb. 03, 2016 + snowing.

& This was yesterday at about 3:30 pm, while it was still snowing. I think we got about 10 centimeters ( 4 inches) of snow here before the precipitation turned to freezing rain and then rain. Today’s expected high temperature was supposed to be up around 10˚C/50˚F.

— What a difference a day makes? Yesterday started off pretty darned cold and ended up around midnight with freezing rain right around zero degrees Celcius / 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Today it’s flirting with ten degrees C / fifty degrees F.

Thunder Tree

I found this on a facebook page called “Ancient Celts” along with several other pretty darned nice photos of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, and a lot of red-haired kids and ‘grown-ups’ and a couple cute young kids in kilts.

— & some of the photos I found on the facebook page “Ancient Celts” are pretty spooky – The image I carried around in my imagination for years that represented the first chapter in my “Great Un-Amerikan Novel” was a tree ( on a hill ) being hit by lightening. Another photo on that site looks like the north coast of ‘Shamrock Island’ in the game world I’ve been building for years (with a little bit of much appreciated help from my friends). — I tried to use the above photo as the ‘icon’ for this page/blog. It didn’t translate as well as I hoped.

— & Today, I was pretty close to exhausted when I forced myself out of bed to shovel some very wet heavy slush out of our driveway so Cathi could get out and go to work. { She actually thanked me for that? I might have wanted to ‘shoot the messenger’ / grumbled at anybody who did that for me. 😉  }

— And – I’ve got stuff I gotta do – so I better keep this short today — “Aboo Niesh Day!”

~~~~~ Jim

Brrrr – But – Better things are coming –

Friday, January 15th, 2016 -( -22˚C / -8˚F lighter and not windy at the moment in Atlantic Canada @ 8:30 am )- Martin Luther King Jr’s Birthday & my niece Jenny A.’s birthday too. 🙂

— I received email from someone who has sent me a link to her page of mostly positive predictions for 2016 and into the future: The link is coming up :

— Link —> <—

— Graphic Image from the page linked above —> ⇓

Hand below a galaxy.

“Indigo-Cosmic” Image from the 2016 Predictions page linked above.

— The person who made these predictions seems to be plugged in to the same desire to refocus our consciousness from the current trends in media toward more positive and empowering subjects – the same desire I have been trying to embody here in this blog.

I will try to send her a link to this article and hope she is pleased with what I’ve said here.

— Thank you, have an inspiring, light filled day —

— Namesta –,

~~~~~ Jim

Waking Up In The Wrong Dimension?

Monday, January 11th, 2016.  -( Over-Dosing on Reality in Atlantic Canada )-

Leonardo DiCaprio dedicates Golden Globe to Indigenous Peoples.

We are happy to discover that Mister DiCaprio seems to be legitimately concerned with social issues and Civil Rights and Equality and stuff like that.

— Friday night I sat down and started writing – finishing up a section of a Novel I’m at least ambiguous about – I’m in a bit of a quandary over whether it generates enough light & understanding without following the usual formula – The likeable character with his or her butt in a bear trap & you’re supposed to keep the readers in suspense until the end when the character either escapes alive or doesn’t. There are already enough things over-stimulating our adrenal glands with hard pounding fast action. Can I hold anybody’s attention with a story that does not want to blow anybody’s nervous system all the hell? Anyway – I just about passed out at the keyboard around 7:30 am – Saturday morning – and plodded into the other room, climbed into bed and did not immediately fall into a deep and peaceful sleep. We got up around 1 pm and had several things we had to do – drive to a supermarket and buy stuff we’d almost run out of and stuff like that.

— When we got home we had more stuff we had to do, attack some wood and cut it up for the wood stove so we could save the roughly four times the cost of burning wood if we heat using the over priced utilities here. And I think we discovered that the television series Manhattan, with excellent acting and writing and plot twists and all that. Cathi also wanted to listen to podcasts we subscribe to, several people talking about their predictions for what might hit the fan this year. It looks like Elitists are plotting to try to destroy the economies of most ‘Western’ Nations so they can manipulate more and more people into voluntarily surrendering more and more of their rights and freedoms – But anway, Cathi conked out and I sat there and watched all ten episodes of season two of Manhattan and thought those actors, producers, directors – all of them – deserved accolades and all kinds of prizes. But then again it was after 7:30 in the morning before I conked out and again, I didn’t get the deep revitalizing sleep I needed –

— Sunday we didn’t have as much we had to do and that’s a good thing – we kind of took it slow and I did get a little bit of rest, but one of the times I woke up from a short nap I was too busy thinking about where my story line was going, and needed to go work on that, and had some pleasant diversions from friends on the internet and I felt pretty good about things, I started working on one of my web pages that needed help and a lot of things went off the rails with that, browsers crashed, updated web pages refused to display their new content correctly- stuff that said it was uploaded and working on the web loaded out of order on the pages I was working on. That was weird. I had to go in and make sure my browsers knew not to load anything from their memory cache, the refresh/reload buttons were supposed to take care of that, but with Mercury Retrograde – and whatever else was going on in the world wide web – that just wasn’t happening. I think it was after six a.m. on Monday morning when I reached a point where I thought it wasn’t 1,000% perfect, but it was a lot better and if I didn’t quit there, I’d pass out on the keyboard and wake up to find several pages of weird random letters appeared and kept on printing themselves ad nauseum. – depending on where my forehead or other body parts hit the keyboard when I passed out – 😉

— This morning – Monday mornings we put out the garbage and recycling, and Cathi has to get up and out to work, has to leave here between 7:30 and 7:45 to avoid getting stuck behind school busses and get herself to work on time. I start the van every morning so it isn’t freezing when she has to rush out of here, and if the windows were coated with a lot of frost, we – or she – or I have to scrape windows so she can see where she’s going and get there in one piece – alive and on time. We did get her out of here –  It was actually something like 8˚C / 48˚F – well above freezing, but it was raining and thick patches of ice between here and where she works would be dangerously slippery, so she left as early as she could. And then I made the mistake of sitting down at the computers and checking the pages I’d fixed over night. They still weren’t acting right. The dog and the cat came around to let me know it was time to feed them, then came around again to let me know they needed to go outside if I didn’t want to have to clean up messes on the floors in here and stuff, and I think I decided I needed a break whether web pages were more than 90% fixed or not –

— Again, I didn’t get deep and peaceful sleep, but it was deeper and closer to peaceful than it had been all weekend.

— The dog woke me up around 7:30 p.m. Cathi had come home, done a few things, taken a nap and was busy with her stuff on her laptop and the nightly television shows that help her unwind.

— I felt weird – like I could force myself to wake up completely if my life depended on it. I kind of stumbled around in a near trance and did manage to do stuff – get the firewood ready and check the things that needed to be checked and yup- the animals were okay, Cathi was okay – There was rain water on the floor in the basement where the strangely warm weather had given us wetness instead of a lot of white mess – but things did not feel right. It almost felt like I woke up in a parallel world where things weren’t quite the way they were in my familiar world. It felt like one wall was maybe half an inch closer to than it should have been, so the door couldn’t quite open all the way when I had to get past it to get down in the basement to check on puddles and important stuff like that.

— & Listening to news about David Bowie’s death seemed a bit strange too. All the teevee news stations were giving that ‘story’ a lot more time than I expected, interviewing Canadian Astronauts and half the musicians in Canada – and it felt like they were canonizing Bowie with praise and distinctions I thought John Lennon or Paul McCartney or one of the original Rolling Stones would get – I was thinking that David Bowie, with his “Chameleon” redefinitions of himself every year or two was given credit for starting cultural trends that I was pretty sure he picked up on and personified, became a leader of a ‘movement’ that had started without him – He might have given MTV Holy Hell for not broadcasting music and videos by ‘Other than White’ musicians and groups way back in the beginning – but he did not stick his neck out and threaten the ‘Establishment’ and ‘The way it’s always been & we like it that way’ the way John Lennon did – Bowie might have made it more socially acceptable to act and wear stuff that bent the weird old rules of gender classification and did things that, for instance, gave Boy George the confidence to be himself when he broke into world wide acclaim – But there will probably never be any Conspiracy Reasearchers delving into the possibility that he was killed by somebody who had been targeted, trained, conditioned and activated in a ‘Manchurian Candidate/ MK-Ultra’ type program to go out and assasinate him.

— I took a nice long soak in a hot bathtub, almost fell asleep there, realized the water had cooled considerably, got up, drained the tub, turned on the shower and warmed myself back up- dried myself off, stumbled around a lot less trance-like, found “Cat People / putting out fires” on You tube and suffered through idiotic YouTube commercials before I could blast it almost loud enough to disturb the neighbours – If this was summer time and any windows were open, that might have been a concern – but – Yeah – I could shed a few tears and feel like DB had given me, and the greater world around us – a lot to celebrate and a lot to think about while he’d been with us.

— But I still feel a bit strange. I woke up in a ‘place’ that felt like an alternative dimension this evening, and now David Bowie gets to wake up in a really altered dimension – hope it’s a much higher world he’s graduated to –

— Thoughtfully yours –,

~~~~~ Jim

Committee Breakfast, Friday, May 15th, 2015

Friday Morning, May 15th, 2015 -( 9°C / 48°F @ 8:15 am, Sunny & Bright in our little corner of Atlantic Canada )-

Deer on the hill saying good morning and thanks for the oats.

7:30 am – Three deer looking a bit scruffy as they get ready to shed their winter coats. This photo was ‘auto-adjusted’ in PhotoShop. That made the greens looke a bit greener. There still is plastic inside the windows, which shows up more obviously when the photos are full size. At 549 x 412 pixels here, it’s about 1/5th the full size.

3 deer in the foreground while a fourth comes in from behind them.

There are at least two groups that seem to consist of a mother deer and between two and four yearlings, -depending on who comes with them?- Sometimes I only know there are more than one group is when I notice that one of the mothers has a straight line scar on her right flank. -Either a scar or a very weird bit of fur trimming.-

4 deer that almost look like three.

All 4 deer are in this photo. The middle two are pretending to be a Dr Doolittle type ‘PushMe-PullYou’, The one in the back is on guard, looking away from the camera while the one in the front is busy enjoying the oats I tossed out on the hill about an hour before they came around.

— These photos here are the size I usually upload 549 x 412 pixels or pretty close to that. I told the inner workings of WordPress that ‘medium’ sized photos should be 549 pixels wide because anything bigger than that does not fit right if I copy and paste them into a couple other blogs that I sometimes post in every day, sometimes once a month or once a week? But, anyway, it’s the middle of May. The grass is beginning to turn green. Spring is here. I think we survived another nasty winter. The last bits of snow on our property melted just before Mother’s Day again this year. The bad guys might be trying to bluff us into believing most of the world is going bankrupt while they’re “laughing all the way to the bank”. The sun felt warm even through the windows and across the room. & The guy who owns the field the deer are in either came here and cut the tree that fell down last summer in the Storm they named “Arthur” or paid somebody to do that.

— I can’t think of anything clever to finish this off with just now. Still kind of ‘shell shocked’ over the death of a pet. It feels like life goes on – and silly me, after a couple “Near Death Experiences” myself, I’m pretty sure I’ll see those pets again in the ‘next life’ — But that didn’t make it any easier. And every time life drops one of its ‘little surprises’ – all of our priorities seem to come up for review and have themselves reshuffled. You find out again who your real friends are and suddenly you’re locked in an echo chamber where ideas like: “Nobody ever comes back from a near death experience with the Divine message that they should have spent more time at work-” reverberate in your body, mind and spirit as if they’ve been double or triple underlined.

~~~~~ Jim


Ouch: Grief and Hope and Remembering

Thursday, May 7th, 2015 -( 14°C / 57°F  & Sunny and warm @10:15 here in Atlantic Canada )-

More perched on round cat furniture thing in Arnprior

Moe in February of 2006 – Hanging out atop the hideout we got for Sasha, who died of a heart attack after being with us for less than three months. Sasha was a bit timid and Domino was much bigger than she was and he played a little too rough for her.

— Yesterday was my cousin-in-law Joe’s birthday.

— Also yesterday, & totally unrelated to Joe’s birthday, my stomach was sore. fter a while I felt a bit like I might be sick if I tried to do too much, and defined ‘too much’ as ‘trying to do any more than I already had, folding up a big tarp and moving it under the section of unfinished plywood roof that had blown off the frame I was building around the steel yard shed. -The plan was to finish building a protective wood shed for our firewood, outside the steel tool shed. Because we couldn’t finish the woodshed before we were inundated with snow last winter, and because the second part of my pension is in orbit somewhere, we couldn’t afford another cord of firewood, so it cost us at least $300 more a month to heat our house which meant we couldn’t pay a couple other bills which meant- anxiety for mon amour fou.

— Last night I dreamed I was doing yoga stomach lifts. I dreamed that I remembered having done stomach lifts the day or night before and I wondered if that was why my stomach hurt. (Probably not- my stomach probably hurt from crying over our cat’s death, crying to the point where I burst into coughing fits, which probably strained my stomach muscles.) Today I wondered if part of the reason I took Domino’s death so hard was I saw him suffering through his last couple days. Maybe that hurt me more than it did him. He complained, meowing mournfully just a little bit louder than he did when he was upset because a door was closed and doors just shouldn’t be closed. That’s part of many cats’ philosophy. Some doors should never be closed. Some doors should always be closed, but some should never be closed. He also meowed fairly loudly and stared at things that maybe he could see and we couldn’t, halfway up the wall in the living room and other spots around the house.

— Last night before we went to bed, Cathi told me she’d found a photo of Moe from 2004, so maybe he was a couple years older than the “8 years old” she’d reported online somewhere a couple days ago. I went digging through old blogs and found evidence back as far as 2005 and she checked out her old bravenet blog and found the passage she’d written there and posted in April of 2004, the day after she brought Moe home from the shelter. -( my stepdaughter, Cathi’s daughter, Erin, had fallen in love with Max a scrappy little British grey cat, partially because he was an older cat and she was worried that nobody would want him. I’m really not sure of all the details, but I think we were in the Ottawa animal shelter to pick up Max when one of us blurted out the fact that Sasha had died of a heart attack shortly after we brought her home. The right person at the shelter heard that and told us she would give us a voucher good for a replacement for Sasha. We brightened, asked about possible replacements who might be there that day, and we were introduced to Moe, who’d been left off outside the shelter, who seemed to like and get along with all the other animals in the shelter, but who had a cough and needed to be ‘fixed’. Before they ‘fixed’ him they carried him around and brought him up to the doors of several other cages, he said hello and didn’t pick any fights with any of the cats there. Cathi remembered that they handed Moe to Erin and he leaned on her shoulder and gave her a hug. Cathi believes we have a photo of that somewhere on her backup drive. Anyway, I’m about to copy and paste the entry that Cathi found last night. )-

I don’t think this will print itself twice here, but I better check to make sure.

Link —>

===== Cathi’s blog entry is below this =====

Sunday, April 25th 2004

12:17 AM

Welcome Tigger!

  • Mood:
  • Music: The Chieftains
  • Weather:

The rain has stopped, but it’s a cool cool wind that blows.  Oh well, it was still a lovely day.  Yesterday was also a lovely day, and with it came the happy arrival of Tigger, the cat formerly known as Morris (for lack of a name), now healthy and happy and anxious to be away from cages.  The trip home was fun; he delighted in sticking one red-haired nose out the holes and talking to me the whole way.

At first he was happy to be segregated in the bedroom, lying in front of the windows watching the world go by.  But it wasn’t long before he made the great escape through my legs to rush out and then, with Domino meowing at him through the vent outside, Jim figured we might as well introduce them.  There was no hissing, no howling, just a sniff of noses and Domino going shrug and turning around and going downstairs.  This looked hopefull.  So a few more breakout attempts by Tigger resulted in one very fast cat finally making a break for it and exploring his surroundings.  He loves the windows, and he Domino had some minor “words” when he went down into Domino’s lair in the basement.  So, back to the bedroom.  This wasn’t Tigger’s idea of fun though, so after an hour or so of “scratch scratch scratch knock knock knock!” out he went again.  Domino was waiting for him, belly up in the hall and when he was let out, Domino led him downstairs.

Last night to give Domino a break, Jim stayed with Domino behind a closed door downstairs, Tigger stayed upstairs with me,  walking across my keyboard, knocking down photos off the piano (he learned that is a loud and clunky thing to do, hasn’t been up there since), played with little guy’s puzzle, played the piano, and spent several happy visits on my lap giving me hugs.  He does give good hugs.

And last night, against his will, back behind closed doors in the bedroom.  He was up on the bed, curled up between my legs (exactly the same way one of my other cats used to ), and then, on the pillow above my head, purring purring purring.  That’s how I fell asleep, to the wonderful sounds of cat purring.  Did you know that the frequency of cat purr is supposed to be very healing?

Anyway, that lasted until about 6:30 with Domino outside meowing, Tigger inside knocking on the door, so okay, out again.  I know, you’re supposed to keep them separate, but these fellows like each other, both are up to date on shots, Tigger is healthy again so I wasn’t too worried.  All day today we have had two cats following each other around the house, wrestling (they are so cute doing that, no teeth, no claws, just literally wrestling), sharing Domino’s futon, admiring the birds together, complete with Domino cleaning Tigger.  Yes, I think we have two buddies – Domino is still dominant (he did try his hissing routine and Tigger didn’t bat an eye at it, so Domino is happy), Tigger is so happy-go-lucky and friendly, he’s just happy hanging out and playing.  All is well with the world, and Domino is also a much happier fellow today  .  He really did miss having another cat around.

Other than that, well, we checked out some garage sales, drove over to Galletta (very neat little town), plan to go back and check out the flea market tomorrow.  Jim has been busy building cat perches with carpet reminants (some given free, some pieces 50 cents from a new store here); was a little too cool to work on the yard like I had planned, but maybe later in the week.

And that’s about it for now!



~~~~~ Jim


Tuesday, May 5th, 2015 –

Tuesday, May 5th, 2015 -( 20°C / 68°F & we still have that one small patch of snow here in Atlantic Canada at 3:48 pm )-

Orange cat sleeping with his arm on alert Bengal cat on a sleeping bag inside out on a window seat.

Orange Moe and stripey-spotty Domino enjoying their nice sunny window spot in Arnprior, 2007 -ish.

— My sister had a poster in the late 60’s / early 70’s that had several examples of how child development shapes the future of that child. – If a child lives with criticism he learns to be nasty to others. If a child lives with encouragement he learns self esteem.— & so on.

— If a child lives with pets he or she learns something valuable. I forget what that was.

— I can’t find that version, but this appears to be the original: Maybe there was a picture of a child playing with a happy puppy or something.


     Children Learn What They Live (1969)


      If a child lives with criticism,
      He learns to condemn.
      If a child lives with hostility,
      He learns to fight.
      If a child lives with ridicule,
      He learns to be shy.
      If a child lives with shame,
      He learns to feel guilty.
      If a child lives with tolerance,
      He learns to be patient.
      If a child lives with encouragement,
      He learns confidence.
      If a child lives with praise,
      He learns to appreciate.
      If a child lives with fairness,
      He learns justice.
      If a child lives with security,
      He learns to have faith.
      If a child lives with approval,
      He learns to like himself.
      If a child lives with acceptance and friendship,
      He learns to find love in the world.


— But pets certainly teach us something, including unconditional love. And right now, in deep mourning for Domino, because the life that used to be here, isn’t any more, it’s hard to understand or believe that this love and joy is worth the pain of separation. And I know through and through that we don’t just stop being when death occurs.

— Dang-

~~~~~ Jim


Monday, May 4th, 2015 – Kent State Day

Monday, May 4th, 2015 -(11°C / 52°F deceptively sunny and bright at 10:45 am in our little corner of Atlantic Canada )-

Cat enjoying cat food in a nice bright window.

Not the last photo we ever took of Domino. I didn’t post this one before because it showed how pudgy he became.

— Twice I got to choose a pet. In sixth grade I rode with my father when he drove a friend of his up to the vet in Trumbull to pick up a pet who’d needed extra care there. I asked my father if we could ask if the vet knew of any dogs up for adoption, he’d had a couple drinks earlier and he said, “Sure-” so I did and the vet just happened to have a fairly large young mongrel, white with brown spots, named ‘Reno’ who came ran me all around the parking lot on the end of a rope tied to his collar and then came home with us. We couldn’t let him run wild through our neighborhood so we tied him outside a couple times a day. He learned that a few short loud barking sessions would get him inside in a hurry. One next door neighbor complained. Dad took Reno back to the vet after we’d had him maybe a little more than a week. — I think I was just about 30, back living with my parents again on the advice of a spiritual Yogi. Working evenings in the post office. My sister Sharon and her first husband, Charlie, had puppies and offered me one. I knew that they wouldn’t live very long if I said, “No thanks-” and I wanted them both, but chose a female and named her “Lucky” My mother complained that she didn’t want to be the one who got stuck taking care of another puppy. I told her I was perfectly capable of taking care of her and didn’t mind at all. Another case of within a week, Mom and Dad jumped in the car to go visit my sister and took the puppy back with them. Brother in law Charlie shot both puppies shortly after that and shocked my mother, who didn’t believe me when I’d said that that could happen. Other than that, any time a pet came into my life it came because somebody else wanted it or somebody had to give it away. An undocked Doberman in New York state, Named ‘Rooster’ had scared a kid off a bicycle when he wanted to play with her and the kid’s parents threatened legal actions. I kept Rooster on property I was trying to buy up there and the neighbors made a big stink, I gave Rooster to a future Vet who believed there were ‘papers’ available. The Vet and another friend of mine contacted the woman I’d gotten Rooster from and learned that, yes, somebody had papers, but they weren’t quite legitimate and would have cost real money and a bit of moral quicksand that a future Vet didn’t want to deal with. The dog was a pure bred Doberman who hadn’t been registered at birth and the person with the papers registering phantom pups and charging people with questionable intent an unreasonable amount of money for those papers. And, my friends didn’t think they wanted to try to trust anybody like that. Other friends in New York had to get rid of a cat. I couldn’t have a cat where I was staying, another friend said he would take the cat and keep him for me until I had a place where I could take him back. Okay, well that cat caught feline leukemia very shortly thereafter and wasted away to almost nothing in a couple weeks. My life in New york fell apart shortly after that and my father asked me to move back home and help him out, so I did.

— One stray cat came and found me. She’d been in a fight and the first time I saw her one eye was a mess. I’d never been a cat person before this. But that cat found me every time I was in the depths of teen aged angst and depression. She got killed in the road while I was either in Vermont or away in the Navy. She was special. Every pet has been special. Trixie used to fall asleep in my lap as a wobbly puppy. It nearly killed me to see her in the dog pound after the same neighbor that complained about Reno complained that Trixie was digging up his back yard. A couple weeks after Trixie disappeared from the dog pound that neighbor came over and screamed at me that if we didn’t get rid of that dog he was going to call the cops on us, he’d seen it the day before digging up his back yard again. If I had the power to kill with my mind that guy would have exploded then and there. Thank God I don’t?

— And, other than that, any time a pet came into my life it was somebody else’s idea and somebody else’s choice.  But every one of them has been magical and special. When his doctor told my father he might be allergic to pet hair mom asked Sharon in Vermont when I was staying up there if she could take him. When we conferred with her husband and he reluctantlay agreed, we called back and said, “Yes!” And we were told it was too late. Flipper was gone. Too many pets were ripped out of my life by selfish adults. When Max the gray cat died last November, that was rough. We had seen him gradually wasting away and then in the last couple days he went quickly. Erin, my step daughter who had fallen in love with Max, especially because he was ‘older’ when they saw him in the cage in the animal shelter display at a pet store, thought that nobody would want him because he was an older cat.  So she gotr him and brought him to Mississauga, then Ottawa, then up to Pembroke when she was going to University up there. Then she transferred to WEstern Ontario University in London, Ontario, and Max stayed with us for a while. Then her future husband turned out to be extremely allergic to cats so Max stayed with us until the end. She came here to see him one last time and he went downhill really fast while she was here, he went that night. That was rough. 

— Maybe every time a pet leaves us is going to be rougher.

Young white deer and young normal deer in the foreground another normal deer in the background, blending in under the tree.

April 21st, 2015 – We’d heard that the white deer, the mother, who had been coming around with her mottled white and brown offspring had been hit by a bus and killed last winter. I think we’ve seen her and we’ve also seen this one, a younger deer, seen through the rain on the window here. Life renews itself. Earth abides. Silly people and their silly ideas fade away but love and joy and everything good about life is still here. Sometimes interrupted by brief periods of grief. There’s at least one more deer beneath the treem to the left of these guys.

— Argh! And thank you for the facebook messages of support and sympathy.

~~~~~ Jim

Later on in the day

The old man shuffles where the young man used to run

His eyes see the same world he saw as a child

But a lot has changed

Many details look the same

But a sandy area near a river where he used to play

lies now, half neglected and half fenced off and ‘improved’ with over priced houses

and distrusting owners glaring out through locked doors and windows armed with burglar alarms

The books he loved reading more than once now require a pair of glasses to reveal their coded secrets

Anywhere he looks, any memory he peers through is now weighted with years of random association with pleasure and pain

memories strained through love and loss, anger and forgiveness, harsh words and encouragement

Words like ‘forever’ and ‘betrayal’ fill with nectar and poison, sting and soothe

Wrinkled old women still look like the first time he saw them, softened by years of warm touch, celebration and consolation-

clarity, confusion, they’re all still there, you never forget.

Some things you never get over – some tears still burn.

The loss of a pet, the cruelty of a ‘friend’. The death of a child or a childhood companion.

Loves that turn sour can be survive – Loves that never were – cannot

And yet a rainy day can still bring back the sunshine

And dreams left unfulfilled can still inspire

While promises unkept can still burn deeply

as the pain in his joints can be ignored with a hint of a wagging tail

or the memory of a purring cat

whether ‘ghosts’ or ‘souls reborn’ are real, they are still with him and always will be

And now hints from the next life shock less and less

While messages from long gone parents, friends and lovers

feel more convincing every day.

Contact from beyond the grave, much harder to deny,

Leaves this tearful poem without an ending.


~~~~~ Jim Wellington – 19 January, 2015

Friday Visists beyond time

Friday, January 9th, 2015 – Bitter cold in Atlantic Canada.

My friend Doug Otterson posted the end of his novel  ‘An “Un-Remarkable” Girl’ on Tablo.

My favourite artist drew and tweeted a drawing she felt moved to create for #JeSuisCharlie:

Eiffel Tower with #PensUp

“#JeSuisCharlie / Nous Vaincrons” -We shall overcome- by Cathi Harris


And I went to talk to my future daughter, Evelyn (?) in my Higher Self Corridor:

— Adventures in the higher realms:

— Yes, we’ve been shaken again by the Charlie Hebdo massacre. & Yes, we can see both sides of this.


‘Perspective’ from “Meanwhile in Canada” — While it looks like evil ice-holes are manipulating public opinion to divide and conquer — Please, do not lose your heads and jump on the bandwagon.

— Lately, I failed and fell asleep every time I’ve tried to prepare myself to climb the spiritual stairs to consult with my higher self, or my daughter from my next life, my finer angels or whatever is actually there- I haven’t gotten through the process of clearing away the tensions and distractions before I could climb those stairs. I was relaxing, preparing for another try, when I thought about sending Evelyn a message, “Are you upset with me because I haven’t been able to connect with you in a couple days?” And, received the answer I was not expecting, “Yes, I decided never to talk to you again-” with the unexpected humourous realization that she was indeed, talking to me. I was thinking about saying, “I really need a two way conversation here-” when she answered, “We have that, don’t we?” — ‘Wow, I guess we do.’ I can feel something, I get the very strong impression that after praying that only positive communications, positive inspirations, positive connections with positive angels and ‘beings’ that Jesus and God would approve of, she’s there. She’s telling me things I do not expect to hear, she really feels like she has an existence beyond my imagination.

— So far,  every time I’ve been there, she’s been a kid, somewhere in the nine to twelve year old range? – it’s hard for me to gauge, kids were younger longer when I was growing up- but this time, she looked more like a 17 year old. I had recently felt almost compelled to write a story about a runaway girl who had almost been forced into prostitution by the idiot who convinced her that he loved her, introduced her to the adult world of making love and then forced her outside in the pouring rain and told her if she didn’t come back with at least fifty dollars, he would give her to the thugs he has protecting him and let them rape and do whatever they felt like with her. I didn’t know how preposterous the story line I came up with might be, whether me trying to find a happy ending for one hopeless kid would ever make a difference to anybody, whether the story could eventually be any good, or good enough to get out into the public consciousness. I was wondering if my future daughter, who apparently knows more about what I’m doing than I do, would approve, or be appalled, or what. I was truly shocked that she would appear to be a seventeen year old when I expected her to still be nine years old. I betcha every parent out there knows that feeling. You blink and your tiny cherub who was struggling to learn to walk is grabbing the car keys and charging out the door, coming back home with a lover and asking for your blessing to marry, or your understanding that, since you blew it, they don’t trust marriage and feel that seeking God’s Blessing, ‘living in love’ and, by human standards, ‘living in sin’ – is the way they want to go.

— The last couple times we’ve been together up there, we’ve gotten down on our knees, facing east, and prayed. She is almost always on my left side, I often hold her hand as we get down to kneel. This time, as soon as we were kneeling, getting ready to pray, not knowing what I might pray for, if anything, I glanced to my left as I was holding her hand and saw a very bright cone of white light blasting her- so white, so bright I couldn’t see her face, I couldn’t see much above the knee socks she was wearing. And they were odd, they were striped, in the kind of colors my mother would choose to wear, a creamy off-white and a subdued, almost greyish tan. She asked, “Why are you doing this to me?” and I was shocked by this, I said, “I don’t think it’s me-” and she was surprised and we both wondered who might be doing something like that. I thought it was some kind of highly protective blessing.

— I came away from this believing there is somebody waiting for my next life who loves me unconditionally. Somebody who is human and was human and knew me before, and might be some kind of official guardian angel’s consultant or something. ( I really don’t know enough, or remember enough, about what actually goes on in the ‘next world’ or the next higher levels to feel like I understand what any of this is all about. )

— I’ve had interactions with a kind of awesome entity who just might be my higher self. I’ve felt the presence of ‘angels’, ‘archangels’, and what felt to me like ‘Undeniable Representatives of the Divine’ – Jesus was not the only one. I don’t know if I would recognize Moses if I bumped into him while not quite looking where I was going or whatever. I don’t believe that God would only send hope and salvation to a tiny percentage of His Creations. It’s painfully obvious to me that dark hearted men -mostly men- have tried to pervert and hi-jack the messages brought to us by Jesus, Moses, Muhammad – God Bless All of The True Prophets – And that those dark hearted individuals had a dark agenda and meant to warp the messages we receive toward their own evil ends. Jesus said we can all find God and listen to our inner directions and the bad guys try to tell us, no, we need to be ordered and pushed around and conform to the whims of idiots who have convinced us that they know the only true pathway to God and we have to pay them dearly for their services. I believe that Muhammad wanted His daughter to have a lot to say about how His message would be shared with this world, and greedy evil power mad men re-wrote the basic tenants of Muhammad’s message to give themselves huge amounts of power and tossed Muhammad’s Daughter into poverty and shame because she was a woman.

— I could be wrong, and I’m willing to learn. I might not believe that I know enough about this subject until I’ve had a nice long conversation with my Creator, and that might not be possible while I’m still breathing the polluted air and eating the poisoned GMO foods that we apparently are stuck with down here in this day and age.

— God Bless Everybody who is trying to find their own way, and God Bless Everybody who is trying to show us the truth and help us find our own ways.

— Billions of paths lead to God, and almost everybody believes they know the only way. “Do your Dharma – Do your best, let others argue and confuse themselves to death.” I wish I could remember the original quote and who said that.

— Amen –,

~~~~~ Jim

My Higher Self Has Wings

Thursday, December 25th, 2014  -( +11°C / +52°F & Raining quite loudly out there at 1:54 pm on Christmas Day here in the Maritimes. )-

Metatron Orb

One website claims this is an angel orb representing Metatron.

— I was feeling a bit ‘off’ as I was waking up. I’d awakened earlier, saw the clock at 10:31 and thought I’d slept all day, but I woke up enough to raise my head and realized the love of my life was sleeping beside me and fell back into the pillows feeling a little bit better. Sometime around 11:00 am I woke up again and wanted to connect with Evelyn and my higher self. 

— I’d tried to clear away doubts and relax away any tension I was feeling. I’d tried to pull all the swords and daggers out of my back and body and then all the hooks and wires that have been placed there by those who ‘know not what they do’ and have no claim on me, no matter how hard they try to convince themselves and me that they do. It was a struggle. I fell asleep in the process and now that I was waking up again, I blasted myself with white light and exploded through the neighborhood, out into the rain and fog and confusion of this world. I’m in a section where the confusion and delusion is a little bit less prevalent, but it’s still there, I could see it in people’s grumpy looks the other day when we were out and about.

— And so I lay there, in the dark, feeling the light cleanse away the tension and schnarr of the confused and deluded world that is trying its damnedest to hold on and regain the power it is losing.

— I haven’t been able to get up to the hight realms in a couple days. I felt like I’ve been letting Evelyn down. I know she said I can’t disappoint her, I was thinking I was disappointing myself. I couldn’t find the stairs. I stood, facing east and called for angelic help. I visualized the blue flame coming down as a ball of fire, but it stayed just above my head. Then I saw Archangel Michael’s hands bringing the flame down through my crown, down to my heart centre. Once the flame was there it flared up and expanded and blew away boundaries and pushed my shields out to surround and envelope this area and especially the deer who have come to depend on us. The white light brilliantly surrounded the blue and the highly polished mirror surface beyond that would let nothing get through that wasn’t divine.

— The Angels picked me up and flew me above the stairs and brought me in through the window up there. Evelyn looked surprised that I would come in that way. I was thinking that someone would show me a door, but no, they flew me up higher, and I thought I was the one who gave Evelyn wings to fly with us, though she flew below me, I don’t know why. 

— We flew up to Metatron’s Hall up there. It was dark. It was night. I didn’t think it could get that dark that close to the Eternal Light. But I looked around and there were several other great halls on various hills above the fog and darkness of night. The angels or archangels or both told me that we should wait there for the most spectacular dawn I could imagine. I turned and saw a figure who was cloaked in light and mist, like he’d turned on the mist to tone down his light so it wouldn’t interfere with our waiting for the dawn. Perhaps the mist was because his energy was so powerful I might not have been able to stand it. This figure had huge wings. Unfurled and very white, they had to be three times his height and this guy was tall, very tall. I thought it might have been Metatron himself, but one of the angels smiled and told me, no, that was my higher self and Evelyn smiled at me with a ‘knowing’ light in her eyes and on her face, thinking, “We’ve been waiting for you to realize this about yourself.”

— In April of 2013, Our friend, Allan Greene, took us on a journey to meet our higher selves and explore pertinent previous lives and get a glimpse of the future. He’s the one who smiled and told me that I was, like he is, a ‘Metatron Angel’ and he explained, “Many people can change other people’s minds, we can change their souls-” I was thinking I could possibly be an apprentice in this group or category of being, but I didn’t know what my qualifications were and whether or not I could live up to the challenge of accepting that responsibility.

— So there I am, sitting in the balcony at the edge of Metatron’s Great Hall at the edge of Eternity, waiting for the Dawn to come and show me the way with Archangels and angels in attendance and Evelyn by my side. 

— I look down and see Cathi sleeping beside my body down there on Earth, while I’m up here in an Eternal Realm,  and wonder what her place in all this might be. I certainly owe her a lot. I couldn’t have gotten this far without her.

— 2:25 pm Christmas Day, 2014 —

~~~~~ Jim