when longings are fulfilled
in passion, unexpectedly,
they often steal away,
it seems, to me, capriciously

as waves, foaming white, wash the beach
and then recede, languidly, whence they came
they leave us straining after
their poignant echo . . .
echoing still . .
echoing ever .

then as we linger on the strand
. . . longing for love
longing for peace . . .
the sun still rises orange and red before our weary eyes
and o’er the teeming

in this, if nothing else, may we rejoice:
life schools us thus to foster better choice.

A Poem . . .

. . . illustrating a philosophy and constituting a blog post:

On yesternight I fell into despair
O’er teeming cares my lady’s silence bred.
“How fares our love? Should I its ending dread?”
I questioned closely the unanswering air.
Of Him above, I asked how I might bear
My loss if her affections now were dead,
So took my tumbling cares unto my bed,
Today awoke, and found my answer there.
T’was always there, though hidden, now it’s shown,
As sun may peek through banks of smothering cloud
Then burst in burnished shafts on paths untrod,
Illumed afore by midnight moon alone.
Love won or lost, with these we are endowed:
A heart, a mind, a soul that’s one with God.

First of all, July 1st, to me, is not Canada Day; it is Dominion Day, the anniversary of the day on which Canada became a Dominion – a country.

Secondly, that country is gone.

What do the citizens of a country do on the anniversary of their country’s founding? They celebrate its values, its heritage, the things that they have been told from childhood constitute their country’s identity, things that they hope will live on after they are gone. 

I can not do that for the simple reason that Lester Pearson and Pierre Elliot Trudeau changed all that. Between them, they rewrote Canada’s “identity” into something that I do not recognize. They changed everything that I thought of as Canadian.

They changed the name of the country itself from “The Dominion of Canada” to simply “Canada”.

They changed the name of our national holiday from “Dominion Day” to “Canada Day”.

They degraded the Monarchy, pretending that the Governor General, usually a failed politician, was head of state rather than the Queen, as stated in the constitution.

They saddled us with a Charter of so-called Rights and Freedoms that is actually the charter of political correctness, dealing a severe blow to freedom of speech (making it subservient to some people’s “right” not to be offended) and other real rights and freedoms that were part of our British Heritage. 

They changed our system of law, making our system based on British Common Law subservient to the Charter and closer to the French system.

They changed our system of weights and measures from the British Imperial system to the French metric system, even though our largest trading partner still uses feet and pounds.

Our language policy was changed so that French was forced on every province except Quebec which all but outlawed English.

Our cultural policy was changed from favouring Canada’s heritage – any sane country takes that approach – to the relativism of official multiculturalism in a way that degraded our own heritage, especially its British component, to which it has become positively hostile (In Ontario, for instance, the teaching of British History was made illegal).

The courts were supplemented by star chamber like Human Rights Commissions in which the normal protections of law do not apply to the accused.

I could go on, but I don’t have the heart.

Sorry, but I cannot buy into this new “Canada”. I cannot pretend that the traditions I was taught have been replaced by these new “traditions”. And I would be insane to even try because I have learned something about “traditions” in the process: they can be changed at the whim of the people whom Shakespeare called “vile politicians”. And if I somehow did manage that act of insanity, who is to say that they, too, would not be changed somewhere down the road.

I no longer think of myself as Canadian because the traditions I was brought up with have changed into something unrecognizable to me, as if I had moved to a foreign country.

Happy Dominion Day, all.


A Prayer

I do not ask for any thing; neither, do I ask for any relationship or external circumstance. I ask but for Your peace and to be the man you created me to be. That is all I need or ever will.


Why are we so outcome oriented?

There is nothing wrong with having a goal – that’s desire, and to be human is to desire, regardless of what the Buddha may or may not have said. But why do we get so hung up on the outcome.

An example:

We want a piece of cake. If find a piece of cake, we’re happy, for a little while at least, but what if we don’t find one? Is that a tragedy? What if, in our fruitless search for cake, we find some . . . fruit. ;-)

The cake would have been nice, but the strawberries aren’t bad, either. Add a little whipped cream and they’re even better, in which case, the question naturally arises: was the outcome so important?

But if we get hung up on the cake, we might miss the strawberries. Moral? It’s best not to get hung up on outcomes.

What if it’s a romantic partner we desire? That’s a more complicated situation, but does the same principle not apply? If we succeed in securing the relationship, we may be happy – maybe forever or maybe just for a time, who knows? And if we don’t? For all we know, he or she would be a huge mistake: after all, we hardly know them, if you think about it honestly. And what if there is someone better waiting for us? Being rejected isn’t any fun, but if we look back on all the times we have been rejected, might we not, in retrospect, be thankful for some of those rejections? Might we not realize, in retrospect, that he or she would not have been a good partner for us?

The same could be said for many things that we want: the job, the money, the prestige – you name it.

The funny thing is that, in making sense of our lives, we only see the patterns and the meaning when looking back on events. We cannot connect the dots looking forward, only when looking backward.

Looking back on my own life as I approach my mid-sixties, I am surprised to see patterns in which my life moved forward, overall for the better, and sometimes in ways that I could never have predicted, including disasters that made me wiser and more able to do better in the future. Success is for enjoying, but failure is for learning, and a life without learning is a pretty grim waste of a life, if you ask me.

It is important that we have desires; it is important that we love fiercely and unconditionally; it is important that, in Joseph Campbell’s words, we “follow our bliss”, our dreams and affinities.

But outcomes?

Not so much.

Race! Religion! Cripples! Oops!

Physically challenged?
Differently enabled?
Special, my ass!
(I think this irks them, too.)
Euphemising their distress
Euthanizes, with a “yes”,
Their deepest truths,
For words that camouflage their challenges,
All nicey-nice, make them invisible:
Trivialize their travails,
You trivialize their triumphs, too.

This is the stanza
Where my thoughts on race
Should one and all be written.
But take my word
Should they be heard
By “them” I would be bitten.
Call any race the worst at anything,
You’re plainly racist scum.
But call that race the best, you call all others worse,
You racist scum . . .
So saying something nice is saying something mean, it seems.
Political correctoids argue thus.

Now that’s just dumb.

And everybody knows that Scientology sucks . . .

These and all like subjects must stay closed
So those who won’t “offend” won’t take offence.

By that, I am offended!


How can their minds be so intolerant
Who pride themselves on being tolerant?

I have been watching some episodes of Seeking Spirit, which consists entirely of an Ontario medium, Chris Stillar, giving readings – you can find it on Youtube – and what really struck me, aside from his accuracy, was something about what made people cry – and there was lots of that.

You might think that people would cry tears of joy when they realized that their loved one(s) was/were still alive in spirit, that death is not final, or the news that they were “alright”, and there was some of that, but there were, I  finally realized, more tears shed for other reasons. The kinds of things the medium said that elicited the most tears were thoughts like, “You’re a good person” or “Don’t be so hard on yourself” or “You did everything you could.” 

The biggest surprise to me was “I forgive you,”or something that allowed the living person to forgive him/herself coming from a deceased parent or child produced more saline H2O than, “I love you.”

This tells me that most or all of us carry around a lot of unresolved guilt and/or shame. We hold things against ourselves that no-one else does or would. Many of us hold ourselves to impossible standards or feel that there is something about ourselves that is simply “not good enough”. 

Judging by the tears I saw, most of us are in need of forgiveness whether from others or ourselves, and I think that, ultimately, it’s mostly from ourselves. And it seems to me that we tie ourselves up in knots about our supposed failings, which in turn gets in the way of our  relating simply and openly to others – it keeps us apart to some degree because our interactions are not as deeply authentic as they might me when at least some of our behaviour comes from our discomfort about ourselves rather than our true selves. 

We make mistakes, but none of us, not one, IS a mistake . . . unless it’s a happy one.


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