My dreams of you

The last four dreams I've had which were recalled by waking memory were all dreams of old friends: writers, gaming buddies and such loved ones as Earth Writer, Aqualad and Dog Whisperer. Covid has insidiously revealed, to my surprise, a capacity for loneliness.

Some friends (and family) I may have inadvertently alienated long before.

Facebook had become a force of unbearable toxicity to me and in a period of desperation, when it had become a source of anguish to my troubled sensitivities, I began severing connections. Stupidly; very very stupidly, I unfriended those who were avenues to subject matter I could no longer bear to think about. There were such better logistical solutions to deal with that but I was not very savvy at the time, and somehow did not consider that I might be insulting them. I had no such intention. Before long I realized my mistake and was too cowardly to go around apologizing. And a short time later I just left facebook altogether, which probably should have been my initial act.

But later the new "Scooterville Tigers" Marketing and Media gig seemed to necessitate that I embrace all social media and so I returned. Since then I have learned how to use facebook more positively, sparingly and safely.

It's November and NaNoWriMo has begun, hampered of course by the pandemic. My world now is small. My confidence is small. Health recovery is my only real bag. Commitments outside of that would be monstrously daunting. One step at a time.

But my thoughts are joyfully with writer pals this month and I hope to do some vicarious living through them, and one such friend is Sick Boy; a victim of my facebook purge. I don't know how well apologies might be received, but if you're reading this, Sick Boy. I hope you are still running the HamNaNo group. I will be coming around online to say Hi to everyone; not to participate though, and for what its worth, I love you and I miss you. And I'm very sorry.

Seaside

Help 4-yr old Daksh be reunited with his Canadian-resident parents

Bed

I need to shower. I need to brush my teeth. I needed to get the bins out for collection day and didn't. I desperately need to go get groceries. I need to do laundry and other neglected chores around the house.

There is no sign that any of these things will happen. They all involve some pain. Some just a little and some a lot. I have no courage today. I am not at peace with discomfort today. I'm trapped in bed.

I forgot to take my pill two nights in a row. This is probably why.

My housemate tells me to ask for help when I need it but for some reason I don't.

I chatted with an excellent friend online moments ago and her problems are surprising similar to mine in places. She tells me I find it hard to ask for help.

Do I? I was not aware of that. I really don't know if that's true. But today I am happy for online communication.

Take a pill, Rich. Ask for a sandwich. Start getting your shit together again. Go East. One step back. Two steps forward.

Draggin' the Line

Stop cellphone price-gouging

Jingle jangle

Hey-o folks. It’s J time here at the A-to-Z and this little jewel of a topic comes from a very fine man, a bit of a jokester, a joyful and jovial Jamaican-dreadlocked white dude; a very fine judge of music and talent and a wicked musician himself; the Jazz Lion. And the deal is:

Jamming

Now I’m not a musician. I dick around on the guitar and keyboard. I’ve written a dozen songs at least. Maybe closer to twenty. They’re pretty basic usually. I’m not a performer. I’m certainly no singer. I’m good with the lyrics though.

Jamming is not really an option for me. I have zero ability to play by ear.

There were two happy occasions though. Once at the farm that Jazz Lion rented for a while; a kind of informal drop-in centre for youth like himself. He was deeply connected. Dullards my age would have called his crowd hipsters. They would not have. They were wonderful kids and too good for labels.

We brought together a fine meal one night. I had much wine and they had their own sacrament.

Lion monkeyed with his guitar tuning; got some rich India vibes happening. We played whistling water bowls and the like. It was very ethereal and atmospheric. I went for the simplest thing available: a length of chains.

I rattled them at patient intervals; only when the improvisation begged for them. The master approved. It was clear on his face.

Fine times.

There was one other, but I’ll save it for later.

Y is for YouTubers: Day two

Well, no breakthroughs yet. Only day two and I spent the whole of it fighting against solitude. I actually spent some time up on the second floor while the roommate came down from the third. We had a good chat and she even let me eavesdrop on a skype with her dad.

I had my own family skype in the evening, followed by a catch-up on my fave youtubers; Smosh Pit, Ozzy Man, SciShow, Miranda Sings, Fail Army…

Outside of that I made a rare plunge into facebook, trying to catch up on everyone. And guess what? That’s impossible. I spent hours and hours and there were many good friends I didn’t get to at all. Facebook is a full time job - times three.

Oh and watched a few effective documentaries including: All Governments Lie - about I. F. Stone and those devotees who followed, on Kanopy.com and The Fruit Machine on TVO.

As for the super-important to-do list, I didn’t even get around to taking my blood pressure pill.

Smosh Pit

Ozzy Man Reviews

SciShow

Miranda Sings

Together

I’m noticing, over the last few days, how increased mindfulness (or wakefulness etc.) doesn’t only avail wisdom but also the simplest intelligence. I have had many meetings and social engagements lately and have been a little more on the ball and have noticed how much clearer I see the relationship dynamics without the nigglings - the wisps - of pride and paranoia twisting my perception. All these relationships look so much more joyful, beautiful and worthwhile and full of possibility through detached observation.

The word detachment seems to scare people off though. I’m talking about perception that is without these false filters of need; dependency; expectation. I find this hard to describe. For me it comes through organic trust in the lessons I have learned, first-hand, about the illusions spun by instinctive mind. For me detachment has no negative connotations. It is not about lack of love, for instance. In fact it avails so much more love.

I’m sure that Tolle or Buddhist literature would describe a different path for finding this detachment; a path or paths which I seem to have forgotten precisely. I recall these readings too dimly at the moment. For me it came through the habit of creative solitude and a bottomless fascination for truth; or more accurately it turned out, the absence of truth and the forensic study of its displacement. It is why, in my more powerful state of former years, I was strong in leveraging influence; nudging people more toward creativity, before I began faltering and eventually withdrawing, more intentionally of late.

I am reminded the advantages of clarity when one is not so self-interested in the dynamics of relationships. It is enough that we are all alive, human and imperfect together, and taking on this great drama together, as witnesses to the universe, and to our own potential as a creature of harmony; both internal and collectively.

Friends and neighbours

I took Aqualad out for lunch at the Great Old German restaurant; his favourite Scooterville eatery where it is decidedly uncorporate. Large portions. Barely marked-up wine. We tackled the Plate for Two which I will describe only as a mound of exciting food over a thick giant schnitzel on a platter on a hot plate set between us. We are accomplished Pro Devourers though both on self-improvement courses and less indulgent than usual. I insisted he take the leftovers home.

It’s funny. The task of writing is much more than a report of what has been on your mind. The very act produces new thoughts. It is an invaluable act of reflection; of internal conversation. And here at this moment I am realizing that he reported (let it slip?) that he’d been present there two weeks ago. That makes sense as it was his birthday at the time. By coincidence that would have also fallen just after my first proposal that I take him there as a reward for surviving his dental surgery and flu combination. Which means that… not only was I not invited to his birthday dinner for the first time in years, but I was very deliberately not invited.

Strange perhaps that I don’t feel especially hurt. I am accustomed to thinking of them as my second family and that, clearly has become an indulgence worthy of embarrassment so I will stop.

I have seen Earth Writer and Dog Whisperer only twice in the last half year; Aqualad three times now, and his delightful girlfriend zero.

There were awkward moments at the cottage last summer and I’m confident that there were complete misunderstandings about matters of no real consequence to me. If their cooling stems from only that, then that is a tragic mistake. And if it stems from more than that, which I assume it must, then I am at a complete loss. I am blissfully unaware of whatever failings I have perpetrated, at least in terms of friendship. But failings have been a theme for me for some time now. No reason to assume they should all have fallen onto my own radar.

The greater tragedy is that Aqualad (if I understand correctly) is in essence turning down the greatest gift a human being could receive for reasons that do not sound sincere but might be. I think it more likely that he is humouring me; managing me; not wanting to say that he has no reason to believe in me.

And it’s true there is no reason to believe in me; no reason for anyone to. I look for opportunities to help those I love and those who demonstrate the rare mental fortitude in the rare and vital realms that I have advance experience in. But I did not graduate from that rare academy. I got close and then backed away. Or did I flunk out perhaps?

Aqualad cannot possibly have much understanding of what he is turning down. We’ve discussed it far too little. But a close bond remains between us it seems. And there is no deadline. Whatever I do manage to accomplish when I break out of this fucking cocoon, may change his regard for me, and in the mean time I will look for opportunities to nudge him in useful directions as opportunities arise.

Not that our dynamics are a motivator for me now. What motivates me is honestly just between the universe and I. And the universe, I must remember, is not ours to command. We can only offer our best advice and then let causality do what it must.

It really is surprising though, that I don’t feel especially hurt. I would have expected to be.

At the core of my “2019 resolution” whether it shows between the lines or not, is the intention to be mindful. Perhaps already I am.

I returned home from our German smorgasbord, parked afar, and walked; exercised. I heard my next-door neighbour’s door opening, a usual precursor to awkward endearments; a fantasy that this perversion called suburbia is some sort of community. But I found myself looking eagerly, and it was the man who emerged and he wore a great smile. My own was immediate. We traded happy comments on the lovely mild weather. Mine were sincere and I’ll assume his were too. Then as I turned up the drive way the lady appeared. “I can’t believe it’s 2019 already!” she said.

“I know,” I said, then sincerely: “Time is cruel.” She laughed. I smiled.

Maybe it is some sort of community.

 

November salvation

I have been slipping away.

In the workplace a subtle distance has grown between my associates and I. “I hope you stay with us,” they sometimes say. It is apparent that my thoughts of leaving have been passed on, likely out of benign concern and not as gossip, from the pal I trusted with them. Meanwhile the associate I was closest to, one of just a few who works night shifts with me, has retired as of yesterday. We traded emails and intentions.

My current work schedule is light but very unfortunate. It hampers my hiking schedule and my time in nature with excellent pal, the Healer.

And it hampers my availability for the community functions of the volunteer organization which runs our Circles of Support. Simultaneously Grandpa Munster’s circle has ceased to meet as a circle currently. We are only meeting him one–on–one. That whole community is falling away from me except for Munster himself.   

And it conflicts with the December-through-October write-in schedule with my excellent writer pals while the internet filters at work deny our group’s online forum. I am slipping away from them too.

My delightful, creative new Dungeons & Dragons group has seemingly evaporated, hopefully to return if Aqualad gets a better handle on the challenging new University experience compiled with an overly cumbersome girlfriend relationship.   

The Earnest Chef has evolved his career and finds himself more fully rooted in The Big Smoke and estranged from Scooterville.

Dog Whisperer and Earth Writer have also seemed less accessible.

And that whom I love most dear has been far removed of late and less inclined to communicate with me, though still has nice things to say on rare occasions.

I have been uninspired and critically lazy; perhaps alarmingly so. Look at this blog, ignored now for a month. It’s a near-perfect thermometer, this blog. Ninety per cent of the time its level of activity is a reliable measure of the health of my journey; my pursuit of goals.

The one exception is family, who delightfully, I have visited with five times in the last two months. I missed a sixth due to illness and plan to be healed enough to attend a modest family reunion with a minority of my many cousins, including Renaissance Kid, on the coming weekend (But not World Citizen who is currently mucking about in Indonesia). The impetus behind increased family activity, I shall reveal shortly. It is one of the many blog pieces I have began writing of late and not finished and not posted.

About all these dear connections which have been fading, I must say though: There are no reasons why any of them can’t be turned around again.

And as for my own mental decrepitude, bordering on emotional, there is perhaps a light at the approaching end of the tunnel!

National Novel Writing Month began yesterday and though my start is late, due mostly to illness, and likewise I have been missing the live gatherings thus far, I do feel the presence of my writer pals, both online and in my heart, and the important writing habit I have neglected is revving up again; super-charging.

I have been smart about my plans; going back to basics to draft a critical non-fiction project which I should have done years ago and which should accomplish much, regardless if it ever is published. The very process of it will organize my head in such a way that I may be enabled to finish some of my abandoned novels and/or to begin new ones with a new confidence and better groundwork.

It should also provide a great tool for Neo and I, should we ever finally get together and attempt to accomplish something profound; something I strongly feel is within our reach.

And part of the NaNo plan is to blog every day and to make that process permanent, through December and beyond! There is so much to ruminate on, dear diary. You might soon get sick of me!

See you tomorrow.

100 Must-See Films! -- Awakening

Can the forgotten ill breathe new life? Can captives of technology recognize the real world when it confronts them? How does childhood cope upon opening its eyes to the dark side of human society?

“A boy raised a question, a man answered, and the whole world paid attention.”

1. Amazing Grace and Chuck (1987, USA)

Joshua Zuehlke, William Peterson, Alex English, Jamie Lee Curtis, Gregory Peck

NBA all-star Alex English makes his acting debut as fictional Celtic Amazing Grace Smith with a low-key performance in a gentle, understated yet ultimately powerful movie. Described by some as a sort of fairy tale, it suggests something that is wonderful to ponder which stems from the question: Can a regular person change the world just because they care? And the simple fact is: nothing happens in this film that isn’t actually possible.

I first saw this movie when I was barely out of my teens and I still find the concept fascinating to contemplate. And the central idea of the film is now more relevant than ever. Never has so much in this world needed to change and so fast.

I like what these guys had to say about it:

President: “The constitution gives you the freedom of speech but that doesn't mean you can walk into a crowded movie theater and yell fire."

Chuck: “But sir, what if there really is a fire?”

Writer: David Field (Passion of Mind)

Director: Mike Newell (Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire)

Budget: unknown

IMDB rating: 5.9

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xC8go9VlhKo

“There is no such thing as a simple miracle.”

2. Awakenings (1990, USA)

Robin Williams, Robert De Niro, Julie Kavner

This is simply a magnificent emotional ride made all the more intense by the knowledge that it’s based on actual events. In my opinion, De Niro’s best ever performance, and Williams is delightful as always; convincing as the socially awkward Oliver Sacks (fictionalized as researcher Malcolm Sayer M.D.) They were nominated for best actor Oscar and Golden Globe respectively and the project also received academy award nominations for best picture and best adapted screenplay (Zaillian). Roger Ebert gave it four stars out of four. Keep the kleenex tissues handy.

Beth: “Miriam! I have to take your blood pressure!” 

Miriam: “I was sitting still for twenty five years. You missed your chance.” 

Writers: Dr. Oliver Sacks, Steven Zaillian (Schindler's List)

Director: Penny Marshall (A League of Their Own)

Budget: $31,000,000

IMDB rating: 7.8

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAz-prw_W2A

3. Disconnect (2012, USA)

Jason Bateman, Jonah Bobo, Alexander Skarsgård, Paula Patton, Andrea Riseborough, Max Thieriot, Hope Davis, Frank Grillo

This movie is an emotional firestorm of ever-increasing tension in which a great number of interconnected characters are strongly developed and very real; a feat that is rare with such a wide cast.

Does the title refer to a space? A disconnect between circumstances?  Or is it an imperative? We must disconnect or else! It is surely a cautionary tale and while the lessons in this film are derived from seemingly uncommon circumstances, they are a caution to us all. We are all in jeopardy, both internally and socially, when we attempt to engage through phones and laptops devoid of expression, sound, touch and accountability;  when we sift our identities through the filters of the wired world. For we are human. We are not ones and zeros. I believe this film should be required viewing for every first-world citizen. I cannot understate its importance!

The picture’s climax is nothing short of stunning; unforgettable.

The film scored four stars out of four from Richard Roeper  (Chicago Sun-Times) who wrote:

 "Even when the dramatic stakes are raised to the point of pounding music accompanying super-slow motion, potentially tragic violence, "Disconnect" struck a chord with me in a way few films have in recent years. I believed the lives of these people. I believed they'd do the drastic things they do in the face of crisis. I ached for them when things went terribly wrong and rooted for them when there were glimmers of hope. You should see this movie. Please...There wasn't a moment during this movie when I thought about anything other than this movie."

Writer: Andrew Stern

Director:  Henry Alex Rubin

Budget: $10,000,000

IMDB rating: 7.6

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nYbj2jNzlc

4. The Hounds of Notre Dame (1980, Canada)

Thomas Peacocke, Frances Hyland, Barry Morse, David Ferry

Father Athol “Pere” Murray was a Catholic priest, well educated in Ontario and Quebec, who was “loaned” to a Regina Diocese where he immediately formed a boys athletic club. In 1927 fifteen of those boys followed Murray to his appointment at the then-seven-year-old Notre Dame of the Prairies Convent and co-ed residential elementary/high school in rural Saskatchewan.  Those boys immediately became the original Hounds, the school’s junior ice-hockey team.

Pere was an atypical priest, fond of tobacco, hard drink, and anti-socialist political activism, but doubly fond of his students and staff, just as they were of him. He once said, "I love God, Canada and hockey -- not always in that order." Until his death at age 83 he remained at the school where he is widely credited for building “…one of the finest colleges and hockey programs out of nothing.”

The film portrays life at the little school over two days in the harsh winter of 1940. The characters are charming. The good guys and bad guys are all, deep down, good. The scenery and tones are somehow both austere and idyllic, the story laced with humour, economic struggle and small town solidarity. The immediate conflict involves a new student; a city boy with a hostile attitude, but the greater threat looms in the background: world war two has already taken the lives of some of the school’s alumni and cast its long shadow over their present boys.

The film captures Murray’s penchant for charity and strong paternal leadership as those around him embrace his life-long motto: “struggle and emerge” (translated to “triumph over adversity” in the film).

In the film, Murray fondly refers to his charges as “little muckers” and one has to wonder whether this too, is the result of translation!

The war eventually took the lives of 67 Notre Dame graduates, while more than a hundred have gone on to play in the NHL, including some of pro-hockey’s hardest working stars. Murray has been awarded the Order of Canada and was posthumously inducted into the NHL Hall of Fame as a hockey builder.

He was here portrayed by actor Thomas Peacocke whose inspired performance earned him the 1981 Genie award for best actor. The film garnered eight other nominations including best picture and best original screenplay. This was a delightful movie about a beloved historic Canadian, and thanks to eternal Hollywood extortionism, probably one of the finest movies you’ll never get to see.

Writer: Ken Mitchell

Director: Zale Dalen

Budget: $1,200,000

IMDB rating: 7.6
Trailer: Harder to find than the city of Atlantis

Short List:

V For Vandetta (2005, USA) Hugo Weaving, Natalie Portman

Intermission in the green room

On the subject of cell phones and the way they improve our lives...

I attended an intermittently-delightful board game session recently. There were four of us and I observed what seems to be a new phenomena in cultural etiquette, perhaps, where, if a participant must divert his attention to his cell phone, then the others just politely wait. At one point I just sat there completely non-engaged for literally five or ten minutes while all three were staring, mesmerized at their phones. Critical matters must have been at hand. I didn’t ask. It’s possible they all live secret lives as on-call brain surgeons and international spies. I don’t know.

So entirely engaged they were and completely unaware of my presence, that I might or might not have entertained myself by picking up each of the game pieces in turn, and cramming each one up my nose for a twirl or two before placing them back on the board, all while they were oblivious.

I shall not confirm nor deny that this did or did not happen. Aside from me, the world will never know.

I have corrected the Mona Lisa

I have embarked on a mission to correct all the so-called masterpieces of art which have become impossible to relate to. Now that technology has made it so easy for people to stay connected, we need our art to demonstrate the beauty of our modern superior human connection.

Look at the superior radiance Mona Lisa now emanates as she is now more properly in tune with humanity thanks to her cell phone. I know. It makes me teary.

I will be in touch with the Louvre to let them know they can throw out the old one finally.

Enjoy.

Victimhood

I worked, by contract, in the criminal justice system for a few years and now I work, by contract, for a corporation which commits terrible crimes daily but they are crimes that are not detailed in the criminal justice system of this nation because they are crimes which injure everyone and everything – BUT – those of the injuries which are inflicted on you and me and the rest of Western society are delayed enough that in our collective insanity we can easily ignore them – or – for most people I suspect, remain consciously unaware of them.

I still do volunteer work in the criminal justice community and I don’t think of myself as being any better than the murderers and child rapists I have worked with, And I don’t mean that in the bullshit phony way that many others might delight in saying. I am in fact no better. I’ve never directly killed a human being nor had sexual contact with a child and I’m pretty damn confident that I will never do either of those things. These are not my areas of weakness. There is no appeal.

However I regularly inflict death and violence upon the Earth and its mammals and even upon human beings who don’t live around here. I do it all the time. Daily. I do it when I eat many of the things I eat. I do it when I buy a new laptop. I do it when I fill the tank with gas. I am an extremely harmful person. I know this with perfect clarity on my best days and on those best days I also reflect upon my total insanity of the previous days wherein my instincts had been duping my consciousness or when I’d been rationalizing my way to a benign self image which is bullshit.

I am no saint. I was not made “in His own image” and neither was anyone else. Humans are beasts the same as wolves and trees and mosquitoes and precisely like wolves and trees and mosquitoes, just about everything we do satisfies our instinctive survival instincts which, besides food and sex and protection, has evolved very largely to manifest as survival within the society which equals REPUTATION, which often includes MONEY (for money is simply a ledger of reputation). Just like the wolf, tree or mosquito, nearly everything we do is bent on our own needs at the expense of any other species. Wolves, trees and mosquitoes – and bunny rabbits and petunias are all, if you open your eyes and pay attention – entirely evil. They kill in order to live. Just like us. And just like the peacock’s tail and many other phenomena of evolution, we have our own unlikely elaborate errant evolutionary feature. It is in the human mind and it encompasses our cleverness, our perversely social infatuation and our illusion of consciousness.

When I keep that in mind I look around at all the nice things we are doing on the surface and it’s very easy to realize that these nice things do not make us angels; do not make us benevolent; do not make us innocent and certainly don’t make us better than murderers and rapists except within a childish viewpoint. Because all the nice things we do reward our vicious survival instincts. They improve our reputation. Nice deeds that we do, feed our own greed.

Now – does every single nice thing we do necessarily come solely from selfish desire or from the master instinctive mind’s need to fool our own consciousness (for we have to fool ourselves in order to effectively fool others)? I won’t suggest that. I like to imagine otherwise but the fact is, it is very simple to map all our good deeds to greedy beastly motives and pretty much impossible to prove otherwise…

BUT…!

So what?

I’m not trying to say that we are all terrible. Oh, I felt that way for a while, years ago. I thought we were all devils. All Satan. Satans in drag as gods. And for the record I suspect that the God mythology stems from that idea; that originally this personification of the source of the universe was set up like that: that Satan is the creator and God is his disguise. But that doesn’t matter. And I’m not here to slag religion today, even though it has perpetrated two of the primary nails in the coffin of humanity – the twin omnipresent fatal ideas – and I mean fatal to our species, literally: one, that we were made in his own image and two, that Earth is not heaven, that some improved heaven resides somewhere else. This is why humans do not understand that we are killers – we are killing machines above all else and why we don’t understand that Earth is the paradise and that we are mercilessly killing it and there is very little time remaining. By Earth I really mean the biosphere, not the crust, mantle, core and all the other bits and pieces. I mean the forests, wetlands and top soil and water systems and air and underground filtration – all of which we have massively crippled or destroyed in a tiny infinitesimal blip of time by any real (universal) perspective or context outside the illusion of our puny lifespans.

Look – all of this is natural. This is the natural state of humanity. It’s nothing to cry or rage about.

And it is okay to wake up from our insanity. It is okay to face up to the beasts that we are. We have every opportunity to evolve. We can close the gap between instinct and consciousness; between the devil and angel if you prefer. I have reliably witnessed this functionality. We humans did not ask for this circumstance. We were born into it without choice. We did not ask for this illusion of consciousness which is – in a sense – an evolutionary precursor to genuine consciousness. We learned to kill to survive because we had to. We are beautiful for this opportunity to become the first species of harmony. We are beautiful for this terrible struggle that we must endure. We are beautiful for our potential and for the suffering we inflict upon our selves.

I am human and I am okay with that. I am not a single entity. I know that. There is a beast in me and there is a weak pitiful beautiful consciousness as well. And when I look around I don’t see single human creatures. When I look at you I see two of you. It has become my normal everyday perception. Unfortunately when I talk to you I must talk to both of you at the same time and that makes things tricky and I confess, I don’t often treat that challenge with utmost diligence. Generally I am not keeping track of what I want each of you to hear; you and your evil twin! Creeped out? Still want to do lunch?

So this piece (if anyone is still reading it) was not planned in any way. It’s strictly a stream-of-consciousness ramble which was intended for one reason only:

I have many associates who open up to me and there is one who is trying to get together with me, largely to express something which they find terrible to contemplate; a suffering. A couple hints have been dropped and I am going out on a limb and I am suspecting that some kind of molestation has been brought to light. I am going to guess a child molestation which has severed – or potentially severed – close relationships. And while it can be very difficult for me to express certain ideas to someone who is looking to me for comfort, because they may not want to accept them and may be looking for other comforts which I regard as artificial comforts, and I may not play the blame game to their liking, I am safe in ruminating here in this anonymous space.

And to anyone who is watching their family break apart because someone they loved has been revealed a victim and another revealed a monster and just can’t wrap their head around it and just doesn’t know what to do or who to support in what way…

The answer, by my accounting, is not difficult to conceive:

You forgive because forgiveness is the only sane option. To forgive is to confess that what has happened was inevitable. All of causality is connected. All happenings are inevitable. There is no logic with which to escape this certainty.

You forgive the conscious entity in the perpetrator. It was the beast which was compelled to act, not the conscious person whom you loved and whom you can still love if you are strong enough; if you understand enough; if you are on board with these understandings enough.

You forgive but that forgiveness is not with impunity. You forgive but you do not forget. You accept that there must be consequences for the instinctive presence whose survival mechanisms dictated the act (probably multiple acts) while fooling the consciousness or rationalizing. For the sake of community safety and the victim’s well-being, there must be consequences. Those consequences could ideally take many forms but for most of us we don’t have the opportunity to manufacture ideal justice and we must trust the police and courts and prison system – as horrifically flawed as they are – to do the best they can.

You love and support the conscious perpetrator if you are strong enough – perhaps after a required hiatus from them – or else you tell them honestly, “I wish I could support you but I am not strong enough. I am only strong enough to try to support the victim if I can. If I grow in strength in the future, then I will return to you. For now I must abandon you for my own well being.”

You also have to support yourself by understanding the above ideas and remembering that we are all molesters; we are all killers; we all leave victims in our wake: the Earth (our only conduit to the survival of our children and descendants), the animals, the people of poor countries whom our masters have brutally exploited through the Western imperialism which gives us our impossible cars and furnaces and iPhones which we gladly accept; blindly or deviously or otherwise.

You support yourself by suppressing the urge to see yourself as a collateral victim.

You support yourself by looking at the victim and remembering that we are all victims and we all create victims and that what has happened to your beloved is not outside the normal mode of life. We all live by creating victims and for all of us our time comes when we are victimized; eventually to the extent of our death.

You support yourself by looking beyond the instinctive desire to see the victim as a tragic aberration though your instincts push you to see it that way. What has happened is essentially normal. (Do not think that this means that I suggest throwing in the towel. It can be our purpose in life to improve; to seek harmony, to reduce victimization of all sorts. We must endeavor to improve; of course.)

Unfortunately it is hard for me to suggest how to support the victim. The victim will have heightened instinctive survival forces working on her – or him. The ideal support is to absorb the above understandings but every victim will be in a different place psychologically and not ready for most of the above material. But ideally I would want to work toward those concepts as gently and patiently and slowly as required. Unfortunately it might be often best in the short term to trust the psychology community for help though that is far from ideal in terms of getting at the one true comfort in life; the comfort of truth; of genuine reality. Psychology will not rescue anyone from the Matrix but often they can do a decent job of navigating the Matrix.

The most valuable thing probably, for a victim to understand is that the victimization happened in the past and the past does not exist. The acts happened to a person who existed in the past who is no longer “you.” The only reason we seem eternally harmed by victimization is because we internally choose to. Our instinctive ego chooses not to let go of it because the pain of victimization becomes our identity and we cannot conceive of letting go of our identity – because we are all in the business of manufacturing identity instead of being real; a bi-product of the survival-by-reputation-and-denial game which the instinct forces upon the consciousness.

I suppose it is probably in actions that we can most-accessibly help victims: simply doing the things that demonstrate they are loved and without condition. But other than the pursuit of true consciousness and the resulting enlightenment which dispels the spectres of lasting pain and victimhood, which is evidently rare to achieve, the area of victim recovery is not my area of privilege; of strongest insight.

This may be the most important thing I ever say, in my whole life:

So I get an email from the JazzLion, dropping his phone number, asking me to call. His words are brief but intimate. I take notice.

I last saw him in December 2014, right before he split to BC for a series of adventures which attempted to bridge the natural world which he tries to hang on to, and the sleazy commercial world we humans have insisted on letting dominate ourselves. Early reports were promising. I began to think he would not be returning. Apparently so did he, at least for a while. I telephoned.

In his words, he hit rock bottom in Calgary, knocked out of employment by the third boss in a row to con him with false promises, at least according to his perception. With no home or money and a head full of destructive thoughts, aimed at himself and others, he called on Mom for a loan for a coach ticket back to Ontario where his greater support system lies.

His considerable intelligence never seems to match up to his emotions. His goals never seem to match up to both his perceived purpose and circumstances simultaneously. The gifts he offers never seem to match up to the wants of his neighbors.

We seem to meet up on a little better than annual basis. He will spend the next few days on a bus and then we’ll get together. I know he is feeling lost and hurting and questioning his purpose in life. I know where I want to start in terms of trying to help him find his way toward life pursuits that might work for him, and I shall write it here and now, for his benefit (review) and mine (reminder) and hopefully others (something to think about):

Purpose

If you want to get at the truth of anything you have to start by identifying the appropriate context which is always the largest relevant context. In this case, the universe.

The universe is mind-bogglingly huge and relatively empty of life; to what degree we are not sure, but we can be almost certain of one thing: There is no species in existence in the universe quite like us. That is a logical near-certainty. Because in order to be wrong about that, the other humanoids would have had to come into existence at right about the same time we did, so close to the same time that this would represent a wildly unlikely coincidence when mapped on the scale of the universe’s immense duration. We can observe enough of the universe and of earth to know that life occurs in the universe in extremely unlikely circumstances and intelligent conscious life in staggeringly unlikely circumstances; a staggeringly rare event. But given the immensity of opportunities in the universe: trillions of trillions of trillions of worlds (we can predict); such unlikelihood may happen more than once. But given the humanoid passion (and rate) for exploration and expansion (no doubt a primary factor in what we’ve become; what we are), any similar humanoid species not of Minerva (or Earth as you might say) has to either have killed itself off by now (as we have proven to be fully capable of and are currently forecasted to do) or else has simply not yet evolved anywhere else in the universe. We know this is a mathematical near-certainty because otherwise we could not have avoided this race because to be anything like us and thus with a similar rate of expansion capacity, it would have flooded the universe by now. And we have not run into them.

So trusting we occupy a rare supervisory role in the universe, what does that mean for us?

It means that something brand spanking new is happening in the universe which is well beyond its previously normal scope: that of swirling matter snowballing according to gravity and densities and explosiveness with one or more isolated oases of death-life where cellular organization takes rapidly altering compositions as different forms rapidly consume the prior forms and are rapidly consumed in turn: evolution as we know it. The brand-spanking new thing is consciousness and it has the ability to utterly transform the nature of the universe but might tragically decline to. Consciousness is subject to evolution of an intentional form without need of countless generations and has proven to me, and (I interpret) to others, to be capable of very rapid evolution.

Consciousness enables a web of intelligence, love, empathy (much more love and empathy than most people even begin to realize), communication and cooperation; the kind of cooperation which can put a man on the moon, set its sites on Mars, and soon beyond, with startling growth of reach (technological advancement).

Consciousness, though infantile at this early stage, in the care of humankind, has the capacity to perhaps sadly disappear, or else evolve and flood the universe with harmony and benign intent instead of this cold physical circular causality with rare blips of death-life.

This is a drama of utterly epic proportions which affects the entire universe and makes all other dramas, especially the contrived human societal ones, completely irrelevant, as much as we pretend otherwise. And we are at the centre of it. We are the universe’s witnesses to this event, as well as in the starring role. And the thrilling thing is that we participate in that role at every moment, no matter what we do, and we are able to witness this drama at every waking moment (and arguably when dreaming, perhaps) if we choose to! Because everything we do, if you break down the components fine enough (not a lot of work in most cases) either propagates our normal beastliness or else propagates the evolution. Everything.

At every moment we can be slave to our instincts or else be mindful. (Speaking from a variety of established perspectives:) We can be spiritually asleep or spiritually awake. We can be animal or truly human; a grown child or a true adult. We can experience living death or be poetically alive, serve our internal devil or internal godliness. And every choice, every moment, is huge! Every one of our actions, in adherence with the laws of causality, are potentially eternal – or awfully damn close to eternal; eternal for all intents and purposes.

Eckhart Tolle, who has earned my immense trust, would tell JazzLion that being this witness is his internal purpose, with an outer purpose being his duty to design. I would add that choosing a side in this cosmic fork in the road, must form a basis for his purpose, whether you call it inner or outer.

Tolle says that some people who recognize the human purpose will involve this spiritual reality as a core component of their outer purpose. I know that that has to be true of me; that I must make it true, and given JazzLion’s capacity for intelligence and empathy and wakefulness, I would suggest the same of him.

Frankly, I would say this of quite a few of the special people I know. And I know that some of you read this blog. I really hope you are listening!

Love you.

accept /əkˈsept/

Is it wise to be angry at the big bang?

The nature of causality is not hard to see. We witness thousands of consistent examples every day. We know of nothing that exists outside the flow of causality, which makes apparent the inevitability of all things. And yet the logic which assures us the inevitability behind all apparent choices is hard for so many to grasp. And even though I fully grasp it, it still slips from me from time to time, leaving me to blame, complain or criticize; such a savory recreation. Such a vain comfort to the ego.

Forgiveness is not simply noble or Christ-like. It is only sanity to forgive: to admit that the universe is what it is and does what it does. This of course does not mean to forget, necessarily, nor to suppress consequences of another’s action. It does not mean we should not strive to do better and to help each other at that.

aboard /əˈbôrd/

A black hole falls through space, a galaxy of stars circling, pulled along with it, and towed by them: the planets and moons, and with one particular planet: you and me.

Universe, galaxy, star, planet, passenger. All the same thing: hierarchies of revolution; matter and energy in temporary forms. All propelled by a big bang, perhaps just one big bang of many.

Perhaps this space we call the universe is but one sector of a bigger multiverse, one sector just waiting to collide with another.

Cause Number One and the Number One Cause

Once upon a time there occurred an event;
A singularity; the biggest bang for the buck
Or the snap of fingers if you prefer, of a great creator;
For it all works out the very same!

And this event would be Cause #1
For billions of billions of billions of billions
Of effects
Over billions of years;
Every effect born of millions of causes combined;
Every effect also a cause
For billions of billions more effects;
Causes and effects uncountable.
Every element of reality an effect-cause;
Every one of them natural;
Every one inevitable;
Every one of them owing to Cause #1 at its root.
Every one connected.

Effect-causes spelled unstoppable change.
Effect-causes organized a sea of chaos
Into sets and subsets; formatted a universe
Made of super clusters
Made of clusters
Made of galaxies
Made of systems
Made of spheres
Made of elements
Made of molecules
Made of atoms.

A world of binding attractions great and small
Revolving; everything revolving,
Expanding, contracting.
Dust to dust.
Cause and effect.

Somewhere a sphere
Bearing critical ratio of elements,
A phenomenal collision of molecules,
At a critical distance from a vast hot central sphere,
Through inevitable cause and effect,
Became a blue and white place.

And there it happened.
A miracle of life
At the meeting of layers;
Rock and air,
Pooling water.
A splitting cell.
Cause and effect.

Cellular organization.
Random mutation.
A cause-effect process of natural selection.
A diversity of species; lives of kind.
DNA and sub-code.

Survival instinct knowing no bounds.
Those with domination instinct the great winners,
Those without it, dead, strangled, swallowed.
Survival of the vicious; the parasitic.
Vines creeping; Roots warring,
Fish eating fish; bugs eating bugs,
Herbivores; Carnivores; Dog eat dog.
Viruses and bacteria eating from within.
Thus life: The process of ultimate thievery.
Cause and effect.

Evolution.
Mammals; Brain cells; Intelligence.
Automatons with limited awareness.
Instinctive response.
Cause and effect.

Evolution.
These beasts emerging;
Bipedal; clever.
With greater awareness,
Though still far from complete;
Still so very far.
Perceiving in their limited awareness
That their limited awareness
Is all there is; some full awareness;
Some ultimate evolution or design.

They’re the greatest pretenders.
The great labelers,
Grouping and labeling everything;
The fantasy of generalization making everything seem easy;
The reality of uniqueness dismissed.
Cooperation; strength in numbers;
Ghastly overwhelming strength in numbers!
Victory through cooperation.
Dominance; the ultimate prize
For their kind, they label human.

And then what?
In the face of victory,
Privileged exclusion from the realities
Of the domination quest;
Exclusion from the hunt;
Exclusion from the fight and the flight;
Food and shelter handed down.
The paradox of isolation.
What oh what then does survival mean?
The forces born of instincts need to know!

Instincts turning inward.
Cause and effect.
Individual survival.
Survival within the society.
Ledgers of contribution;
Money the new survival;
Food and shelter a privilege.
Man eat man.

The paradox of cooperation/competition;
However to do both?
Instinctive forces perverting.
Cause and effect.
Necessary duplicity.
Puppets born of reputation and ego;
Pure charade.

The rise of the matrix;
The superstructures that overwhelm
And tell them what things to pretend.
Labels labels labels!
Tribes tribes tribes!
Nations,
Corporations,
Races,
Ideologies,
Religions;
Arbitrary categories
Pretended to be real,
Make everyone a friend;
Make everyone an enemy.

Such pure fantasy can only be pretended
When the reality of uniqueness is dismissed.
Oh the confusion;
Now to navigate?
The domination instincts still thrive,
Looking for victims.
They label them sins,
Pretend the sins are not to thank for their existence,
Pretend the sins do not dominate their living moments,
They ascribe them to a scapegoat and call him the Devil.
They teach this to their children and let the children
Suffer, ever suffer for they each think they are each the devil.
The survival instincts have it covered.
Fight to disallow such crippling despair
Duplicity solves all.
Cause and effect.

Confine it to the greater brain;
The non-awareness.
But oh the self-loathing!
They must ignore those terrifying glimpses;
Suppress the confusion.
For they must navigate the matrix
One way or another
And win their bread;
Oh but not just bread,
But win their almighty material trophies,
For survival instinct knows no mercy;
Only domination.

The structures all demand from them
The appearance of subscription to the rules
And hidden contrariety,
Because in the matrix angels are trodden on
And cheaters prosper.

The dual duplicities:
The lies they tell on purpose
And the lies of the sub-awareness
Tragically mistaken for golden truth.
They think it a matrix of lies and truth,
This matrix of lies and more lies.
Cause and effect.
Puppets tricking puppets.
The matrix weaving layers and layers of illusion
So tightly woven, the pinpricks of truth
Sparkle so rarely just as the tiny volume of light
Out of all stars in the universe
To penetrate a smoggy Toronto night sky.
When finally the young have aged;
Developed sufficient senses,
It is too late; the matrix has snatched them
Through the TV’s and the institutions
And the things you will not hear said;
The endless bullshit eaten and eaten;
The investment in illusions signed and sealed.
Cause and effect.
There’s no turning back.

But wait, there is a second miracle!
Not intelligence but the boon of it;
Imagination! Creativity!
The regard for unvarnished truth.
The capacity to evolve beyond the domination instinct
Simply because they dreamed of it!

Such a phenomenal departure from the nature of life.
A celebration of that idea called love;
That Bordeaux blend of attractions and addictions
Just another label,
But so useful when applied:
Loving kindness; generosity; harmony.

They each participate to some degree; great or small
In living without harming and for that
Every human is beautiful; Hear this, you human!
For that, you are beautiful in this universe!
So fascinating, this evolution, to some.
Some of them scientists; some of them poets, musicians, artists,
Those who engage in true learning; an act of solitude,
Some are the sufferers; forced to bear reality,
Some of them the ancient champions
Of beautifully intentioned religions
Before the inevitable corruptions.
Cause and effect.

They are those who escape the unmerciful web
Of the matrix’ mighty structures
Through rare unexpected circumstance;
Rare causes; rare effects.
Those who embrace the reality of cause and effect,
The reality of uniqueness,
The reality of nature; of inevitability,
The reality that all of one’s frustration is one’s own cause;
All hate, all stress, all fear, all rage,
All intolerance;
All of it the result of one’s own flawed expectations
And flawed perceptions;
The result of all the blaming when in truth
There is no one to blame but the blamer.

For those who fully escape the matrix
There is no confusion but only peace,
No illusion but only freedom,
No sadness but only joy,
No rage but only love; real love;
Not addictive, not of lust,
Not directional but all-directional;
The love that is a state of being;
So awesome; so shockingly euphoric
It is at first devastating
In all but the smallest doses.

And above all there is desire for harmony;
That everyone would give care for all others
And mercy for the less evolved,
Not in the hopes that what goes around comes around
But damn it, for the sheer joy of it!
For that is the ultimate destiny.
All evidence points there; scripture; poetry; science.
Cause and effect.

But where is the road map to that complete evolution;
That ultimate humanity for all?
This imperfect author; flawed poet does not know.
This is the quest; the number one cause.
Flawed versions are written here and there
In the works of poets long dead or just,
In the temples, mosques and churches
So vulgarly and inexpertly taught
By the pawns of old cold organizations.
But while poets survive on the fringe of welfare society
Outside the matrix but privy to its comforts,
Not with false nobility!
Knowing they are cheaters!
But looking to be useful,
Looking to nurture harmony,
Looking for the rare candidate for escape; the next Neo,
They leave their calling cards;
Their hints in these places
Because if just one more can be freed,
By god, It’s all worth it.