Rainy Father’s Day

Sunday, 21 June, 2015 -( 12˚C / 54˚F & Raining in economically depressed (?)  New Brunswick @ 7:15 pm )-

Cat napping near a window on a rainy day.

Moe taking advantage of the sleepy wet weather in his favourite spot on of the custom made cat shelves we still haven’t reassembled into the cat friendly stuff we took apart when we traveled here from where we used to be, but he’s in a cat friendly window, on the cat friendly porch- so all is just about right with the world.

( Cat napping near a window on a rainy day. )
Moe taking advantage of the sleepy wet weather in his favourite spot on of the custom made cat shelves we still haven’t reassembled into the cat friendly stuff we took apart when we traveled here from where we used to be, but he’s in a cat friendly window, on the cat friendly porch- so all is just about right with the world.
— We had our first ice cream treat of the year yesterday to sort of celebrate Fathers’ Day, after running out for a couple things at a couple stores. And looking around at rocks and things.

Deer Cam Video Still

Wet day as seen through the ‘deer cam’ that spots hungry deer on the hill back there.

( Deer Cam Video still. )

Wet day as seen through the ‘deer cam’ that spots hungry deer on the hill back there.
— And I found out this morning that we had been able to ‘comply’ with our web provider’s least expensive option, delete everything on the server and upload the ‘clean’ previous back-up save. So I pretty much spent the entire day updating stuff and deleting possible security problems.

— F’ rinstance, I spent way too much time re-uploading one blog, stalling when it came to a suspicious file, deleting old themes and other hiding places for sociopathic code, trying again to finish uploading a suspicious back up when I could have reverted to an earlier back-up and skipped a lot of unnecessary grief, since that blog had been idle since the earlier bak-up. But I couldn’t know that- not until I finished the whole exhausting process and gone back to check the ‘postings’. -sigh-

— shrug

— But we’re back—

——— jda ———

Day 27 / Snow-Vember, 2014 – Nice Quiet Blizzard Sneaking Up On Us –

Thursday, 27 ‘Snow-Vember’, 2014 – -( -1°C / +30°F & “Light Snow” which has dumped almost a foot/30 cm on us in 12 hours @6 am in Atlantic Canada )-

— Jim W, who is braver than I am, went out and shoveled a little bit already, says it might have been called ‘heavy wet snow’, but it isn’t that heavy. He measured it and says his driveway isn’t quite covered in a nice, uniform depth but most of it is 12 inches deep, with scooped out- partially wind cleared areas down at 6 or seven inches and he’s guessing the average is up around 9-12 inches, or 22-30 cm.

I hurt just thinking about it.

photos later, maybe

~~~~~  ———jda——

Day 26 / November, 2014 -Happy Birthday Val & Joe – & We Have A Winter Storm Warning In Effect :

Wednesday, November 26, 2014 – -( +4°C / 39°F & grey & damp outside @ 3:15 pm around here )-

Blooming Christms Cactus

Photo of Cathi’s Corner with blooming “Christmas Cactus” – photo by —jim w—

We talked Doug into getting his own twitter account rather than rely one one of us to do his tweet searches for him.

Doug's First Tweet.

Doug’s sent one original message, and retweeted 2, commented on one- there may be hope for him yet. no, he ain’t no luddite, he works w/computers and anything more might be overkill

& Doug sent us a photo -that should be below this-

snowy parking lot

Doug sent this from his little corner of New York state.

—Heavy duty storm on its way. They’re calling it a nor’easter. Expect as much as 30 cm / 1 foot of snow over night & into tomorrow.

—Uh, I’m feeling brain dead, but there’s a lot of that going around, 90% of the nonsense coming at me from the Tweet-us-sphere is telling us stuff I don’t really care about re: Jian Ghomeshi’s adventures in court.

Um, & Jim W says he’s almost feeling human again.

—Yay? —— ehhh?—,

———jda——

Wednesday, 19 November, 2014 – Weird Feeling & Cat Fights

Wednesday, November 19th, 2014 -( -6°C / +21°F @ 5:40 am )-

It is now 8:30 am

I woke up around 5 am, had a feeling that something was ‘wrong’ with the world, like something major had happened.

I didn’t wake Cathi, her sleep is precious and if a three hundred foot Tsunami was coming, Yes I would wake her and get us somewhere above that height, but short of that, she needs to have her head on her shoulders and in close to full functioning mode for work.

I wanted to check our friendly news services, but the computer was weird. It wasn’t quite frozen, but it wouldn’t load, or refresh, graphics. Trying to refresh a different page in firefox, it got hung up trying to connect to ‘ad.[something].ru’ and I wondered if something had happened between here and Russia, like maybe somebody pulled the plug on international connections via the internet. I tried loading a wordpress page – and that page got hung up trying to load an ‘iSomething.1wp.something-else’

So I told the computer to restart.

It did. It can’t find the system fan so I had to tell it to go ahead and start up anyway, I’ve got the case open and a small external fan is blowing on the cranky system fan that starts up, yawns, sometimes plays happily for hours, sometimes says, ‘oh the hell with this’ makes too much grinding type noises and shuts itself off. The external fan does the job better than the system fan did anyway. [ mumble mumble schnarr schnarr planned fuppin obsolescence schnarr schnarr schnarr- ]

Okay, spiffy decent windows 7 computer gets back up, and the blinkin’ graphics still didn’t want to load. But when I broadcast images of computers sinking under multiple fathoms of sea water from my imagination into the cpu, it said, okay, you mean business, I’ll be good, please don’t drown me-

And- so far anyway, there’s no freaking huge headlines about nuclear bombs hitting anybody’s infrastructure with emp’s or anything.

Cathi got up at her usual time, was getting ready for work I was staying out of her way, and when I got a chance, I told her about my weird feeling that something was wrong, and her jaw dropped.

She had awakened about half an hour before I did with that, “Something awful is happening somewhere-” creepy feeling that my sister might have called the ‘heeby jeebies’.

And the dog was his usual pain in the bum self, wanting to be right in the middle of anywhere anybody wanted to go, staring at the refrigerator and looking at us, looking at the refrigerator, and back at us, until we either give up and get him something, or chance major injuries trying to push him out of the way, or sit down and try to explain to her boss that she can’t come to work because this hundred and twenty five pound dog won’t let her get back to her bedroom to finish getting dressed and ready for work.

Sigh.

Well, Cathi drove out of our driveway. I let the dog out and I thought I’d blog about my weird apprehensive feeling and climbed into the office – I have a piece of 12 inch wide shelf wood blocking the door from animals who might be too lazy to jump over that- It actually keeps the dog at bay, and he could easily step over it.

I almost sat down at the computer when we had hissing and loud meowing and scrambling noises and I turned around and made it back to the door to see one cat with his teeth clamped on the other one’s shoulder, and Moe, the orange trouble maker, looking like he was really worried about this. So I screamed and Domino let go and turned and ran back into his sanctuary and Max, who most likely had started it, got up and scurried into the kitchen, the other way.

I checked on Domino, who was up on top of one of his perches, looking worried that Max might attack again. I went into the kitchen, no Max. I looked under the kitchen table and then around the corner through the open door, onto the porch- there was Max, sitting on the floor, thinking about things. I glanced and saw that the dry food bowl was empty, went back to the bag, got a handful of dry food and some cat treats, gave Domino a little of each, and went back to the porch.

I put the handful of dry food in the empty bowl and deposited half a handful of treats near it and the rest on the floor in front of Max. — The dog was still outside and didn’t look like he wanted to come in yet, which is odd, but I walked back toward the porch off the kitchen, and there was a puddle of blood under Max. I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at it, saw a slight trail of blood coming from his shoulder, bright red blood, and thought, oh no, did Domino bite into an artery? And dabbed at it. -Max, who was eating his treats, did not seem to mind being dabbed at. He looked stunned, but didn’t look like he was in any pain. I stayed there long enough to see that no blood was squirting out of his shoulder, so I hoped that meant that no arteries had been sliced. I waited a couple minutes, Max did not keel over dead and no more blood oozed or squirted from his shoulder wound, so I decided to get the cats’ morning wet food into their bowls and put Max’s bowl into the crate that Moe likes to go into whenever he wants to feel safe or whatever. I did that, Max didn’t want to go all the way into the crate, but I managed to get him in and close the door. Then I got him some water, and another half a hand full of dry food. He looked at the closed crate door and wondered why he was in a crate, but didn’t start complaining and went back to greedily chomping on wet and dry food. I went back to soak up the blood on the floor and saw another small puddle where Max had landed when he jumped up on top of the cat-friendly claw cleaning post that used to be a guitar amplifier’s extension speaker.

I called Cathi’s work number, left a message, checked on the dog, he was happily sitting out front, surveying his domain, I finished fixing his morning crunch crunch and broken up piece of bread, which I figured would keep him busy for ten seconds or so when he did finally decided to come back in, checked on the cats, made sure Domino was okay, had more than enough dry food, a few extra grains of cat treat and available water and all that, went and sat down at the computer and Cathi called.

We talked for ten minutes. Max was still alive inside the crate, had food to look at and water to look at and a closed crate gate to look at and, strangely enough, wasn’t complaining.

The dog started barking at somebody who was heading for the nearest bus stop and didn’t want to come in, but finally did.

And here we are.

— I blew it for NaBloPoMo month yesterday when I got distracted by an orange cat who wanted me to know that he could cause a lot of pain with his claws and my leg if I didn’t drop everything and cater to his whims right then and there, I forgot to come back to finish that up and forgot to post it before midnight. & apparently, when you manually save a draft early on, like right after you write out the date, the time and the temperature on the top line, um, after you do a manual ‘save draft’ the auto save drafts function doesn’t feel like it has to pay attention to anything and goes to sleep. And if weird graphics freezes happen and you think you’ve got everything saved and tell the computer to restart, well, you lose the stuff you forgot about, that should have been auto-saved, but didn’t think it should bother and, can I scream now? —why bother?

—Okay, it’s after 9:30 am now. We have a big black dog blocking my side of the bedroom, a large orange cat happily occupying Cathi’s spot. Domino is curled up on one of his safe perches, sleeping peacefully and Max is still alive staring at the closed door and not complaining about being in the crate. I can’t say things are normal, because things are never normal with our pets, but this is close.

—Weird moning news, signing off—,

~~~~~ ———jda———

Day 16 / Sunday / Happy Birthday, Doug

Sunday, 16 November, 2014 -( +2°C / +36°F @ 4 pm with grey skies and pets a little nutsier than usual )-

I’m less than 600 words from a NaNoWriMo and a half in 16 days. I remember typing thirty pages a day in around 1990. Right now I’ve typed 126 pages in 16 days. And I have several pages of “Out Takes” that I typed and winced about and pulled out, and some stuff I typed and winced about than then deleted.

It’s not that the spirit of NaNo has been violated by me editing as I go, I hit the 50,000 page goal on November 11th, and then slowed down and re-thought the opening I wanted for the story when NaNo is a memory and this story is trying to live on its own.

This is a prequel to my already 5,000 pages at last count great unamerikan novel. When NaNoWriMo begins during a Mercury Retrograde time, you can almost guarantee yourself that you’re not going to finish anything you start for NaNo month. So I continued something I’ve been working on for years. This novel, or cycle of novels might be older than most of the people participating in NaNoWriMo this year. Some of the new characters that popped into the lives of the main characters when they were back in Junior High School, before everything else happened, are so vivid and real to me that I can see them walking around and clowning without trying. I can almost believe they will be waiting for me when I leave this mortal coil. Two of them were just talking about whether they believed in God or not this morning, well, in a conversation that was supposed to have taken place, duh – 50 years ago?

So my current total is 74, 408 words.

—yay–,

—Yawn—

Happy Birthday, Doug!

 ———jda——

The 14th is a Snowy Friday

Friday, 14 November, 2014 -( +1°C / 33°F @ 11:11 am )- -(Another source says it’s 0°C / 32°F )- with light snow falling here in Atlantic Canada.

This is a dream I had yesterday afternoon:

Thursday, November 13th, 2014: about 4:30-5:00 in the afternoon?:

Cathi was home sick for the second day in a row. I had felt progressively more and more lousy since last night. I had given up on trying to sleep. My muscles were aching and burning, I couldn’t get comfortable.

So I got up around 6:30 am and tried to blog, couldn’t. Didn’t just feel lousy in the physical sense, I had pins and needles in my head and couldn’t concentrate. I did manage to get a couple blogging things done before 4 pm.

And, around 4:00 – 4:15 pm, I tried again, went and laid down, said a couple prayers, tried to relax tension that kept finding new ways to sneak up on me and feel my muscles in a not-relaxed state, the minor stinging and burning stuff was trying to come back.

But I finally did fall asleep. And had a couple dreams in a short time.

The most vivid sequence:

I dreamed I was in a bed in a room that isn’t here, not in this house- and there was a doorway to another room a couple feet beyond the foot of that bed and a window in the room beyond the doorway. Daylight was coming in through the window, not overly bright, but daylight.

I heard something and raised my head to see a black shadow form of a human being. I thought it was a man or a male, by the shape of the shadow’s head, no long hair shadow. Also it looked like a solid shadow, a three dimensional one.

I drifted away from that dream and came back and told the shadow to go away, it wasn’t supposed to be here. And I started waking up, or at least dreaming I was waking up, hovering between states in a place that wasn’t quite ‘here’.

It took a while, but a child’s voice came into focus. At least it sounded like a child’s voice, a boy’s. It sounded young, kind of high pitched, not infantile, but childlike, pre-adolescent? and it sounded like I was listening to the voice through a watery filter.

He said, “I was born here- you sound like you have an accent-”

I knew he was waiting for a reply, I told him, “Yes, I was born in the U.S.A. and moved here several years ago.” And I went on to tell him that he shouldn’t stay in this world, if he was stuck he could go to the light.

I told him what the most reliable source on ghostly phenomena that I know told me, I died in a car crash in 1934 and ‘haunted’ Chicago for four years, but I made it out of that existence and if he tried, he could travel back in time and check that out and see what happened. If I’m back here, living a ‘new life’ he could safely go to the ‘other side’ and come back, I think- pretty much any time he wanted to.

I felt like he was pretty happy about that. And while I was writing this here just now, I felt like he was reading ‘over my shoulder’ and approved, and was happy that I was telling his story.

Cathi has done more research on geneology stuff than I have, and she knew how to follow the family name of people who lived in this house before we did.

She thinks that two owners ago the guy who lived here was pre-deceased by a son. When I told her about the dream/contact with the young male person she wondered if that was him.

If it was, I hope he is not stuck here, trapped either by fear or some sort of dogma or lack of understanding, or a belief that that’s what happen when people die, you stay here-

I felt pretty darned good after that, like the angelic help I was trying to call on in the background while I was talking to the young person came through, helped the boy and came back to tell me he’d moved on, might be back again, but is not stuck here. Somebody communicated with positive emotion.

That was the best I felt in a couple days.

—Hope I’m not coming down with anything—

—thanks,

 ———jda——

Friday the 13th is a Thursday this month?

Thursday, November 13th, 2014. -(+5°C / 41°F & Sunny, w/blue skies & “clear” @ 3:33 pm in Atlantic Canada )-

Bear sitting at a picnic table.

“Don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee-“

Disheartened? I was feeling that a while ago. Cathi’s still sick. I’m apparently coming down with whatever she’s got, weird aches and pains and pervasive ‘blahs’. This blog is no longer listed in the nablopomo list on the page I signed up for. I did wonder if I’d signed up in the wrong place and went back to check, saw this blog listed as #1066, thought that might be a significant number. And yesterday, rechecking, we’re not listed any more. I have no idea why not. I’m thinkin that somebody on their end isn’t doin a lot of communicatin. Maybe this stupid exercise isn’t official. Maybe I didn’t see something somewhere that might have told me I had to do something I haven’t done or shouldn’t do something I have done. Or maybe I don’t meet their unpublished criteria. Shrug.

Dreams: Yup, again, many. The only one I can remember is one I told Cathi about. My mother was in the bathtub upstairs in our old house down there in the smoke of Fairfield county. The bathroom was over the kitchen. I was at the sink. The kitchen sink was probably right under the bathroom sink and the bathtub would have been over the kitchen table. But as I was standing at the kitchen sink water started raining down through the ceiling over that sink, from more than half a dozen spots. I ran upstairs and told her through the door that water was leaking into the kitchen below. She asked me a question about what I’d said, or something, I don’t remember what she asked in the dream.

Sleep? Forget it. I was up and down from the time I climbed into bed until I gave up at about 6:15 am.

Health? forget it. We haven’t built up an immunity to New Brunswick germs yet. Anything that comes along is debilitating.

NaNo? by their count through a validation doozy? 54,510. Through the Open Office Word Count function: 55,131.

NaBlo? Who cares?

Etc.? = Gaaaaaa! I’m going to pass out soon.

—Grumble Grumble–,

~~~~~ ———jda——

Sunday / Day 9

Sunday, November 9th, 2014  -( +9°C / 48°F @ 3:45 pm With a nearly solid ceiling of clouds, smaller cloud, that have rounded edges that let rays of sunlight through every now and then, here in Atlantic Canada )- 25th Anniversary of the Fall of the Berlin Wall.

Fall of the Wall: in 1989, November 9th was a Thursday, I was delivering newspapers in the Ithaca, New York area. When I was delivering the papers the morning after the wall came down, the 10th, my sister’s birthday, I had to carry several papers through crowds of students at Ithaca College. I was taken by how self absorbed the students seemed and shocked that they were treating this as just another day in their lives, getting on the more important social business of impressing the right people and flirting with the right members of the opposite sex, in most cases. There was a Jewish woman who was some sort of executive secretary or something at NRC, the cash register company who also made other electronics things, I think the company had a line of windows compatible computers in those days. She was very sober and told me she didn’t think it was a good thing that Germany might become reunited. She was worried that the kinds of forces that allowed the Holocaust might be back in power and try again.

Sleep: After I got up late yesterday afternoon, having gone back to bed after feeding the animals, maybe got back to bed around 11:30 am, I got up around 3:30m. I think I wrote that in yesterday’s blog. I don’t think I got back to bed after that until after 10 am this morning. -worked on my NaNo novel most of the night-

Gack-

INTERRUPT! WordPress timed me out and had me sign back in- which is weird. After that I wrote about five more paragraphs and selected the categories and tags and clicked Publish, and got that incredibly frustrating “Are you sure you want to do this? / Please try again” Message and lost everything I wrote after what you see above this, before the ‘Gack-‘. Should I feel happy that the auto save draft function worked at first, but then didn’t? Schnarrr!

Dream: Several Rock and Rollers were sleeping in a hotel room. It looked like they’d been booked in a place that didn’t have enough rooms for the whole band, or maybe they couldn’t afford separate rooms, or huge rooms with multiple beds. So they were sleeping two and three to a bed, and, maybe to avoid problems, they were either using sleeping bags or under and over blankets so nob two guys were under the same blankets, and one guy who was the third person on one king sized bed had his sleeping bag upside down, or exactly opposite the other two. I sat down with David Crosby and he looked tired. At least I thought it was David Crosby. I told him I had just done an internet search on Jackie DeShannon to find the correct lyrics to an obscure song that one band had sung and I never could hear the exact words to one verse. He looked like he wished I would give up and go away and let him sleep. I told him that one site had listed him as one of the many who had recorded her songs and asked if he’d actually met and talked to her, and was she still alive and well? One of the other guys groaned and asked me to help him pull his boots off. That’s the only dream I can remember right now.

NaNo Novel is over 36,082 words. I slept maybe 3 & 1/2 or 4 hours since yesterday’s BloMo blog. I lost 2 or 32 thousand words, I ache all over, I had an interesting dream or two that I have forgotten, our pets are weird, as usual, and the clouds outside are very odd and strangely beautiful this afternoon.

Blah—-

My bruised rib is hurting again, after several days of not hurting and now I have to spend an extra couple minutes any time I want to move, especially when I want to get up out of bed, where I don’t spend nearly enough time and my allergy eyes are burning again. —schnarr—

But at least I still have my sense of humour.

Last night I drank some cocoa instead of coffee or decaf, and felt like I was wearing a hat the whole time I was working on cleaning up a nice happy excerpt of the nano novel to replace the probably misleading blurb that is up there right now. I had a pleasant ringing sensation in my ears that had the kind of feeling I get after driving for several hours to a place I really want to go to visit people I really like and who treat me like a valued human being. This was especially necessary in the 1970’s, 80’s and early 90’s when my father was becoming sick with what turned out to be terminal asthma – well, maybe the steroids he needed in order to breath actually killed him, straining his really strong heart until his second heart attack in 1995 killed him.

-Ack, enough of that- I relaxed happily into an in between dream and reality state and felt pretty good, misunderstood what was going on out here in the real world, but made up for that and just wasted over an hour writing this and losing what I wrote.

—Schnarr!

———jda——

Politix, Gender, Nationality, Identity, & the I Ching –

Friday, June 27, 2014.-( 10C / 50˚F @7:00 am )-

(If I put anything in “quotes” it could be a judgment call, made by someone else, that I haven’t yet verified. ((Or it could be a quote…)) )

I’ve got ‘notifications’ in my inbox. Twitter thinks I should be logging in and following several streams of comments.

One of those streams involves all kinds of mixed opinions on Canadian “Justice Minister” Peter MacKay’s “chauvinistic” attitudes as revealed by his Fathers’ Day and Mothers’ Day Messages, sent out this spring. Those who don’t like Mr MacKay’s attitudes or politics say that his comments reveal deep down character flaws. He basically says (in the ears of his detractors) Mothers are good for making lunches and nurturing children, Fathers are responsible for molding children’s minds, shaping them into good and decent/responsible citizens. He also recently responded, in answer to a question; “Why aren’t there more women judges?” : Something very close to, “Women don’t want a position that makes it difficult for them to take time off to take care of their children.” A lot of people, many of whom are women, are upset over what they see is Peter MacKay’s apparent belief in antiquated visions of sexual divisions and who should be allowed to do what, according to which sex they were born into.

I should probably take this time to explain that I grew up in the United States, mostly in the state of Connecticut, 50 miles or so from New York City, where I was exposed to rather progressive philosophies of gender identities and abilities. I was also exposed to a lot of anything-but-progressive attitudes and anxieties, surrounded by the enforced homophobic atmosphere that prevailed in the public school system. High school teachers and students were more that ready to accuse any young men whose hair was longer than their own of being deviant perverts who would probably want to commit horrific/atrocious crimes against children. Having a mean alcoholic for a father, I didn’t have a friendly attitude toward authority figures. { One evening my father stumbled home drunk from the local V.F.W. bar and demanded, “Why do you do everything that some asshole faggot in England tells you to do when you won’t listen to your own father?” (( V.F.W. = Veterans of Foreign Wars, in theory: an organization to support Veterans and give them a place to feel safe and reminisce about the comradeship of fighting to defend American style freedoms against the evil fascist minions who wanted to take those freedoms from the angelic free democratic peoples of the western world. In practice, the VFW bars that I was exposed to were places where half broken men (women were not allowed to sit at the bars in those days) drank to self medicate against their fears and anxieties that they were powerless/impotent in the face of living their lives in accordance with values and expectations that they had grown up with. So if one half baked philosopher blurts out that ‘kids these days take their marching orders from British faggots and won’t listen to their own parents’, half a dozen half drunk comrades were liable to nod their heads and mutter grunts and monosyllabic agreement, and one or two might go home and terrorize their own children with bullshit observations which they believed just might be the gospel truth. )) Luckily for me, my uncle, my father’s youngest brother, a university graduate and high school teacher, was visiting us when my father accused me of being the dupe of British perverts who wouldn’t listen to his own father. My uncle burst into cackles of laughter and said, “I have never known anyone who makes up his own mind about everything- as much as your son.” My father was stunned and flabbergasted, lost the wind in the sails of his tirade and went looking for another drink, forgot I was there and talked to my uncle until he stumbled into bed and passed out. }

A year or two after that scene, which reinforced my self esteem, and reinforced my quest to make up my own mind about anything and everything, a friend of mine came out of the closet. He wanted to tell his parents that he was gay and wanted to practice this by first admitting this to someone he was pretty sure would not go ballistic and either beat him up physically or verbally. I was stunned. He didn’t know it, but I spent two or three days confused, anxious, worried, wondering how the hell I would ever be able to relate to this guy again. How could I ever be in the same room and feel comfortable after learning this deep dark secret of his. But then I realized that his sexuality was not a contagious disease. He was not going to knock me out and rape me and turn me into some kind homosexual zombie who would then dedicate his life to spreading toxic sexual aberrations around to everyone I came near. I was actually able to enjoy this guy’s sense of humour and intellectual insights. He still had valid things to say. He could read something I’d written and tell me that something I had put down in words could have a positive or negative effect, that I hadn’t considered, on another human being -or groups of people. He was still a valuable human being, a valuable friend. He valued me, considered me talented and liked being around me. He never attacked or made a pass on anybody while I was around- what’s the problem? He was a decent human being. He wasn’t the last person who came out of the closet to me before taking the chance of admitting to their sexuality to other friends or family members.

I first came to Canada to meet someone who had been a friend I’d met online in a writer’s workshop and then learned we shared a bunch of similar interests and tastes and actually made each other feel good about life and all that goes with it in this wild and crazy day and age. When we had shared Astrological information, I learned that she was an Aries, a member of a group that I could very easily be friends with and enjoy wild and stimulating conversations with, bounce ideas off of, might find physically attractive, possibly flirt with, but probably not decide to have a ‘meaningful relationship’ with. When we became better and better friends, she’d admitted that her marriage had failed, she was determined not to fall into the trap of seeking or jumping into another relationship that would probably fail just as miserably. I was involved with somebody, she was thinking about becoming involved with somebody else. My somebody discovered that another guy she had really really wanted to be involved with felt the same about her. My Canadian friend had second, third and fourth thoughts about the somebody else she thought might be a possibility, and then the somebody else found a woman who was ready for him and he was no longer on the market. My Canadian friend said, “You know, if one of my friends told me about a couple like you and me who got on so well over the phone and in email and all that, and said they’d never actually met in person, I’d ask them, “Why the hell not?”- So we arranged a meeting, I had actually told her that I would drive 500 miles, give her a hug and then go home if we took one look at each other and went…. “uh, no thanks-“. The meeting was arranged close to her home turf so she she wouldn’t be stuck too far from home if it didn’t work out. It took me eleven hours or more to drive there, and when I caught a glimpse of her through a crack in a door I thought, “Oh no- she’s way too good looking-” She opened the door, we hugged, we ate, we talked, we jumped into a hot tub together. We fell asleep in each others’ arms and I woke up in love. We spent the next day wandering around Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada and I followed her home the next day, met her kids and heard her say, “We have to find some way to make this work-” Boom, I began to believe there just might be a ‘we’ in my future.

When an attraction is purely sexual, one ‘romp in the hay’ might satisfy the desire. When an attraction is intellectual, that attraction might evaporate if one of the attractees changes an opinion or an idea about anything. If an attraction is emotional, a couple has a ‘fifty-fifty’ chance of achieving a stable relationship. If an attraction is Spiritual, any and all obstacles will disappear to bring that couple together  (I saw this happen. I’m here to prove it, still in love with my Canadian friend ((Now ‘spouse’)) twelve years later.)

I moved to Canada, came in as a visitor, jumped through hoops and paid landing fees to qualify and then become a permanent resident. The only job I could find as soon as I was legally able to work was cleaning a bank for a cleaning service. I accepted a couple more assignments from the cleaning service. The love of my life had a decent job with the government of Canada. We were not exactly rolling in money, but we never starved. I hung in there (she was much more than ‘worth it’) and jumped through a couple more hoops and became a Citizen of Canada, a dual citizen of the US and Canada.

Soon after I got here it became painfully obvious that many Canadians had attitudes that I never anticipated. The love of my life has a son with an Autism Spectrum condition. A psychiatrist she sought help from blamed her. He said, in so many words, that she should have been a stay at home mom, then the boy would never have developed that problem. (If she had stayed at home he might have died of malnutrition or exposure as her ex, the boy’s father, wasn’t quite all there when it came to paying rent and other bills and putting food on the table.) That attitude shocked me. The psychiatrist wanted the boy’s father to come into his office with her and the boy or he wouldn’t see them again. The father was too busy with things that mattered more to himself and, besides, didn’t believe there was anything to worry about. I went with my love and her boy to their next appointment. The psychiatrist talked to me like she wasn’t there. He gave me advice on how to be the man in the boy’s life and signed a paper that started a ball rolling that got the boy the help he needed. This psychiatrist wasn’t the only ‘professional’ with attitudes that shocked me up here. Part of her son’s condition included a great deal of difficulty getting to sleep at nights. We took him to a sleep clinic in the same hospital with the above described psychiatrist. There was a senior nurse in charge at the sleep clinic. When this nurse learned that I was not the boy’s father she glared at me and demanded that I leave the room. And when I began working for a local cable television provider in a one person satellite studio, I learned that the “two nations divided by a common language” description applied to Canadians and USAtians (wink) when communicating with my area supervisor. In the U.S. (or at least Southern New England) I was expected to let a supervisor know that I was still on the telephone and paying attention every so often by saying ‘yes’, ‘okay’, ‘uh-huh-‘ or something in that monosyllabic area whenever it sounded like the supervisor paused for my input or somehow indicated to my understanding that he (usually ‘he’) wanted to know that I hadn’t fallen asleep or put the phone down and wandered off. When I interjected one of my ‘uh-huh-‘ indications to my Canadian Supervisor he became irritated, “Don’t do that-” “Don’t do what?” “Don’t say, ‘uh-huh’ like you’re mocking me.” “Mocking you??” “You sound like, ‘uh-huh- riiiight-‘ like you think I’m a jerk.” “I didn’t mean that at all.” (Luckily, I’d already learned that one or two expressions did not mean the same thing in Canada that they meant in the US. After re-filling my cup from a pot of fresh coffee, I’d asked someone if they wanted a refill, and thought she’d said “Okay,” and begun to pour. I was shocked when she frowned and snapped, “I said I’m okay!” and yanked her cup away as soon as I stopped pouring. When you’re pissed in Connecticut you’re angry or upset with someone. When you’re pissed in Canada, you’re drunk. I had a really good area supervisor at that job. He accepted my explanation about the slight differences in culture and appreciated the idea that I was aware of such things.)

What does the I Ching have to do with anything? When I was in the Navy (part of the US Armed “Services”) there was a guy wandering around the ship I was stationed on with a tortured intellectual expression on his face and a copy of I Ching in his hand. I asked him what the book was all about and he probably half expected me to accuse him of subscribing to some deviant sexual persuasion and/or being less than worthy of calling himself human. He looked more painful than usual and said he’d just read that when a society’s artists take sides in political battles that civilization is in trouble. Sounded good to me, but I think I told him I’d have to think about that for a while. I think he smiled. (Maybe out of relief that I hadn’t attacked his self esteem?) I got a copy of the I Ching a couple months later, read the introduction, chose some British coins that I’d gotten in Malta, shook them up in cupped hands and dropped them, counted their heads or tails -ness and made I think five more tosses and counts to get the hexagrams they represented and looked up those hexagrams which the coin tosses had indicated, read the description of the first hexagram, paid attention to the lines whose totals had ‘told’ me they were changing lines from broken to solid or solid to broken, and read what the changing lines in the first hexagram meant and finally read the second hexagram. It’s complicated and might have been designed to discourage half baked individuals from asking stupid questions and expecting the I Ching to answer them in easily understood language. { The book (or oracle?) will tell you it doesn’t feel like answering a stupid question or even tell you that it already answered that question, don’t bother me again. }

I asked several questions based on the state of the world in the 1970’s, asked about politics, and justice, and social controls, and various philosophies and doctrines. An answer I received quite often included the phrase, “This is not the age of the superior man” or something like “The superior man knows this is not his time to speak or seek to acquire political power”. At the time I wondered why the book/oracle was so concerned about any hypothetical “Superior Man”. A couple years later I was diving deeply into the philosophy behind Yoga (especially Raja Yoga, & Spiritual Practices) A book entitled “The Divine Science”, by Swami Sri Yukteswar, had a fairly easy to understand explanation of cycles this planet (and everybody on it) goes through: at rock bottom, in a very dense area of the universe, almost everybody alive on this earth can only understand the purely physical. (This happened most recently between the year Zero A.D. and 1,000 A.D. We hit the bottom at around 500 A.D.) As our solar system moves in its orbit around the centre of our galaxy, which moves in an orbit around the centre of the physical universe- the spiritual atmosphere becomes less and less dense and people on the planet become more and more intelligent and understand a lot more on many levels. Since the year 1,000 A.D. we have been in an area where most people on this planet can grasp the understanding that electricity can pass through wires, that water can seep through sponges and submerged logs, that air can flow through cloth, and so on. This age, whatever we end up calling it lasts more than one thousand years. During the next step up, the average intelligent life form on this planet will understand that magnetism can control electricity which can flow through the material world. This will sort of be the silver age. The golden age happens when most intelligent beings on this planet understand what Spirit is, that Spirit can control magnetism which can control electricity, and so on. Golden Age Citizens will supposedly understand what life is all about, what our purpose is, why we’re here and where we’re going when we leave this plane of existence. One entire cycle up through the ages and down again (Or down from the peak, through all the descending levels and back up again) takes around 26,000 earth years (give or take several centuries).

Okay! So now the proverbial light bulb goes on in my mind. The I Ching’s ‘Superior Man’ would be someone who is fully enlightened, and can understand the meaning of life, and be fully emersed in Spirit and enjoy all the gifts that come with that. Being on that level in a golden age you could be aware of anything happening on the other side of the universe (quantum entanglement). No one could lie to you, you’d know the truth before they spoke. You would be able to heal yourself and anybody else by manipulating healing energies. You could go into a trance (which would be second nature to you) and regenerate a lost body part. You could teleport yourself to anywhere on the planet, or to any other planet where you knew you could live, breath, have water to drink and all that. The ancient Yogis had a whole list of things that legitimately Spiritually enlightened individuals could accomplish.

Believe me, none of our current ‘Leaders’ exhibit any of those qualities or abilities. Anybody who tries to tell you that ‘we’ are good and ‘they’ are bad… Anybody who tries to convince you that there is an ‘obvious’ division between good and bad people. Anyone who tries to divide and conquer the group of people he or she wants to rule over- anybody who wants to be a ruler, anybody who wants to hold power over anybody else: is not a ‘Superior’ person.

If you elect morons, don’t be surprised when the phrases they utter sound moronic.

If you believe you need to delegate power to someone who will most likely use that power to rule over you, you’re in trouble.

Of course your government is lying to you. If they told you the truth, you’d have them arrested.

How do we fix this? “Every generation needs to wrestle their freedom from the jaws of control.”

Let the morons know you aren’t going to take their doo doo any longer.

(((( as a first step to try to learn how they’re manipulating your economy, go to “http://cafr1.com/”  ))))

~~~~~Jim