One More Time…

So, here I go again, attempting to write a short post on the iPad, this time spell checking periodically. The smaller keys give me grief, so I must be vigilant.

Last time I tried this, I was attempting to introduce you to a fascinating book I was reading about Near Death Experiences, and Out of Body Experiences (NDE and OBE from now on.) The author is the grand daughter of a distinguished past Prime Minister of Canada, Lester B. Pearson. Her book is definitely NOT a religious book, although the title Opening Heaven's Door"is misleading in that direction. She began her research after her sister had an experience of  a visit from her father at the exact time that he was dying in another city.

The book catalogue's a huge list of similar experiences from all over the globe, and gathered in a few dozen research projects. She found that once people knew she was doing this research, they began to tell her stories that they had kept secret for up to 20 years, for fear of people assuming they were insane. Many people reported having visits from long dead relatives, being accompanied on hazardous journies by "third persons" who seemed to be guiding them, and others, who, at death's door, experienced tremendous light and love which encouraged them to regard death as something not to be feared. What is remarkable about all of these stories is the detail with which they are remembered, and how mind-boggling they are. Hard science people refuse to accept her research, because they insist that all consciousness is produced by the brain, and that any supposed consciousness outside the brain is impossible. Ms Pearson points out that this assertion itself is not scientifically  pro, butt  exists in the  ccategory of a commonly aaccepted myth.  ((ddouble letters ttht appear in this text are being logged by the iPad and not me.. IIt is printing slower than I am typing, so I suspect charging is needded.. I'll  stop and post,, and come back after  I recharge.

Sorry…

Well, that was a disastrous experiment, trying to put together working on a new machine, with too-small print, while commenting on a book that is becoming so important to me. Put that together with too-short a time span o write - therefore no careful proof reading - and you have everyone wondering just where you left your mind!

I was practicing on the iPad with an attached keyboard, in a new writing program, and the on-screen print was so small I had trouble reading it. I didn't think to spread the print on-screen with my fingers, as you can do with an iPad, until I had almost finished. I had to rush away before I proof read, so…you can see the multiple mistakes and confusion that ensued. A longer period of time to reflect on what I had written would have allowed me to explain the significance of Opening Heaven's Door to me. Oh well, I'll try again on the iPad, and this time I'll warn you, and I'll slow down. This is all I'll write for the moment, for again, I have to leave for another appointment. "When do I get time to be bored and lonely?" as my father said so many decades ago in his very busy retirement. Echoing Arnold Shwartznegger in The Terminator movies, "I'll be back…"

Of pure light and overwhelming lovre #1

I have been reading a most intriguiging boog recently, It is entitled, Opening Heaven's Door. The title suggrsts rather sappy religion to me,but thid id noy s religioud book. It's s book of science, exploring thr world of thode eho hsvr profounf spiritusl rxprtrirncrd as they approach desth, snf do in fsct die, but comr bsck vis resusitstion eith s fee minutes.. Their profound experienbce of light snd love id overwhelming, and their reluctance to return to the worlkd of their bodies is quiter strong, Many of their livs are chsnged permsnently by thid experience.

Reading this material has catapulted me back into my own anguished times of fering deth as the end of all I know snd all I am. It has been a recuraring fear since childhood, in spite og fsith, snd has caused great guilt in mydelf.Whst I sm learnibng from th znear dead, snd the once-was-desd, id thst desth is nothinbg to nfesr. theree is s prfound beyond, an experience of light snd ptofound love thst chsngerd  the remsins of earthly lifre totslly.

all this has been deeply satisfying for mr, snd hrlpd mr o intrgrste old mrmories snd fesrs into my current faith journey.Death is not to br fesred, but welcomed. zindeed, msny returnees find it daubting to return to the life they hsve known. They long fir the light, warmth snd lovr tyhry rncountrtrd, snd thst msrks thr remsining of thri dsys. aorganizational spiritual organizations becomne of little interest to tghem,even old relationships fade, The world of their future,where they are alive in a new way, continuedbto beckon for thr rest of their dsyd.

People feel a sense of çoming home'to thst reslm, and long to return to it, it is so much more real that this place, I am intrigued by thgid, drawn by it, snd deeply comforted by the possibiilities of lfr thstv id more beyond thid one thsn i can imsgine. some of my childhood dreams of fslling from s plsne seem t connect with these realitirs. Whst I sm learning mskrs me ponder even ther "trite"saying, everthing  has a reason."Thast reason may emenate from fsr beyond our present sbilities to see snd experience. I am becomig deeply excited bout this, especially as itnall relates to hints in scripture, and in my own internsl past! I will be writingmorre tthis summer sbout tghiss,, and what it means to me..  Wait for it!

Summer lands at last.

Been almost two weeks since I blogged. Busy time in some ways. My "racism" column hit the street the day after the Pope put out an Encyclical on Distributive Justice. I'm in good company. No overt reactions yet. I suspect seething in some quarters. Couple of funerals…one very strange.

Had a bit of a scare the other day. My vision has been bothering me, so I made an eye appointment. Then it occurred to me that it might be another stroke in the visual cortex. a sit in ER, and a careful exam dispelled my anxieties. The eye Dr. thinks all the tearing I did during pollen season dried my eye, right eye, and so there are dry spots on the cornea. Drops prescribed, and another visit next week.

I'm finally getting back to swimming after some weeks of snorkeling…which is less exercise. I'm out of form, drank a lot of water the first day back. Tomorrow I go straight to the swim. How many lengths in 45 minutes? I have to re educate my body. Work is recovery; recovery is work.

Tomorrow is the big stampede parade. Two bands, and a long line of horses and dignitaries in vintage cars. End result: horse poop on the streets. Candy for the kids, and a few soakers shot into the crowd. Even some real cowboys, as well as a few old farts pretending to be cowboys. Not me. I stand at the side and watch…for awhile. Leave the car at home. No parking downtown. A zoo. BUT…hotdogs at the UCC.

Two Sundays I have tried to deal with the TRC (Truth and Reconciliation Commission) regarding Indian Residential Schools. Tough in a basically racist community. Not everyone, but a lot of the old guard, who live with the long past and want to forget it. My guess: two generations to get it moving, if everyone works t it.

Tonight it's HOT, like 28 DEGREES AT 9;45. Tine to pack it in. Five thirty and the pool comes early. Nighty nite.

Steaming…

Almost two weeks since my last posting here. What have I been doing? Ministerial stuff mostly. An extra Sunday added to my roster, a gong-show funeral thrown in, plus dealing with the sulking of a Lodge Brother who is behaving like a ten year old. Granted, this takes little physical energy, but emotionally it’s draining and it feels like it uses up hours of time.

My “racism” column hits the newsstand next week. Perhaps I’m catastrophizing, but I expect a good deal of flack for this piece. For one thing, it calls out the Rednecks in my circle. They are not likely to be silent, although whether they will speak to me, or about me is a moot point. They won’t like it a bit that I have challenged their preferred vision of the world. They will write me off as a woolly-headed liberal, not worth their time, but they will be pissed off that I have maligned their home place. I intend to have coffee somewhere else that week. Call me a coward, but coffee time is for relaxing, reading and talking calmly with friends. It is not, in my books, for rancorous arguments about issues central to the country’s life.

Returned to the pool today at noon to see how the rehabbing of my arm is going. Swam six lengths, and found the breathing hard work. Out of shape. Disturbing to me was the fact that as I climbed out of the pool, I was dizzy enough to stagger, and felt unwell for a good half hour. Was it too much swimming? Was it the climb out of the pool? I’ll return to try again later this week, and swim a bit less. A moderate return to the 1-kilometer swim is clearly in the cards. Snorkeling is so much easier, with regular breathing going on, and no upper body exercise.

I’ve stayed up late because I am upset by a disturbing email from the bride to be in the wedding I’m conducting in Toronto in October. There has been a major misunderstanding between us. I maintain she used the wrong language in describing what she wanted of me; it is also clear that I could have/should have asked for precise clarification at the outset. I am annoyed that I have wasted time reading up on pagan rituals rather than hunting down a completely secular wedding service. Perhaps now I can sleep, having written this. G’night.

Truth, yes. Reconciliation? A very long and arduous process…

This week has been filled with heart-wrenching images on the TV, and in my community. The seven or eight year process of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission would down to a conclusion, with the presentation of it’d final, six volume report to the Canadian public. The morning long presentation was moving and dignified, as the witness of over 7000 former students of Indian Residential schools in Canada presented their collected pain and wisdom to the population of the country. The emotional tome was palpable, but muted, as the speakers shared their process  for all to see. At the conclusion of the event, the large crowd gave the Commissioners, Justice Murray Sinclair, Dr. Marie Wilson, and Chief Wilton Littlechild and lengthy standing ovation. The one ominous note in that final process was that the Federal Minister of Aboriginal Affairs refused to stand , or to applaud the Commissioners. The signal from out Federal Government was clear. They had little intention to honour the 94 recommendations of the report born out of the suffering of Aboriginal people.

The Canadian government – the so-called “Harper Government”- refuses to sign the Human Rights document on the Rights of Aboriginal People, and refuses to strike a National Inquiry into the deaths of thousands of Aboriginal women. These points of resistance were reiterated non-verbally at the conclusion of the event. Most telling for me was the non-attendance of the Prime Minister of Canada at this event. The palpable pain of the survivors of the schools and their children was basically refused acceptance by our government. No commitment was made on their behalf to enter into a dialogue of reconciliation  with the Aboriginal People.  Then facts emerging from the Commissions life seemed to have little effect on our leaders. That between 6000 and 12000 children died in the schools between 1880 and 1990 apparently had little impact on our political leaders. The fact that the death rate among the schools inhabitants occurred at the same rate – 1 in 25 persons – as the death rate among Canadian troops in WW2 – 1 in every 25 soldiers.

The insensitivity, even cynicism of our government – Harper’s government – was demonstrated when less than 24 hours after the Commission’s presentation, the Feds grabbed centre stage with a report on the shooting up of Parliament Hill by a deranged new-Muslim “terrorist” – a man clearly unbalanced and insane individual . The fear factor once again was used to swing attention away from the pain of the Aboriginal population back toward the government’s “fear:” agenda. Heartless cynicism and pure partisan agenda was deliberately set out to derail the purpose of the Commission.

The following day, the lukewarm Prime Minster did attend the closing ceremonies f the Commission, and had the temerity, the unmitigated gall to join hands with native leaders to prayer for the advancement of reconciliation between races in Canada, when his spoken and unspoken declarations are clear: he intends to do nothing, or as close to nothing as he can manage.

On that sad and depressing note I must stop. It is 3:30 in the AM, and in two hours I must walk 5 kilometers…recovery remains a high priority for me.

Sunshine Sketches…

The local Tim Horton’s Cafe is a hotbed of gossip in my community. There are a lot of us old codgers who gather there morning and afternoon to coffee and talk. The men talk about weather, machinery, and…much too often, about the negative aspects of anyone different from themselves. Lots of misogyny, lots of implied and expressed racism. Muslims, Aboriginal people (usually portrayed as lazy and/or drunk), women and young people are regular topics, Not every day, and not every one, but often enough that it’s depressing.

Also, whenever there is something new and unidentified happening in town, there are myriad rumours about what is really happening, and who is doing it. For example, a large parcel of land near Tim’s has been a vacant meadow for years. Suddenly, a few weeks ago, earth moving equipment moved in and began stripping away the topsoil and the clay beneath it. Al the earth was hauled away, and the vast hole got about five feet deep, covering an area as large as seven or eight football fields. They dug down deep enough that the water of the old swamp began to show at the surface. Then, overnight, the activity changed. Sand began to be trucked in, hundreds of tons of it. It was spread thinly around, and then methodically packed down, layer by layer, until the surface was at the original level of earth. It was clear that something was to be built there. But what? And by whom?

The men began sniffing around their contracting buddies to find out. The women surreptitiously canvassed their connection in the female world. Answer after answer came to the surface and then ran out of steam. Answer after answer poured out of the Biddy Crew Finally, one morning, a lady at the next table proudly announced that one of our local pharmacists had purchased the land and was building seniors housing on it. Duplexes, with double garages.. In the stunned silence that followed, on of the other old ladies, usually a heavy hitter in the gossip game, pursed her lips and announced, “I know,” in an attempt to trump her friend. The conversation rolled onto other topics. One winner, and a room full of losers.

On Thursday morning – yesterday – a school bus rolled into the parking lot at about two minutes to ten, and spilled out a load of sleepy teens. The Biddy Crew instantly began to chatter in an annoyed cacophony. “What’s a School Bus doing in the parking lot? There’s no room for it here! Someone should go out and tell him to move…and what are these kids doing here? The day has hardly begun at school and these kids are coming in here for coffee! Don’t they ever do anything in school? It’s not even Friday!”

Out of the milling crowd a woman in jeans and a cap emerged. She was much younger than the Biddy Crew, and somewhat older than the kids. Turned out, she was their teacher. She explained quietly, to the whole table that the kids were on a field trip to a goat and cheese farm, to learn where their food came from. It was part of their nutrition course. The teacher explained that some of the class had “chosen” to stay home rather than come, and as a reward to the attendees, she was buying them all coffee!

The silence was stunned and prolonged. In an instant, the wise teacher had take her kids and the bus driver out of the firing line, and shut down the Biddy Crew completely! I was laughing so hard into my sleeve that I had to leave the table. A whole morning’s gossip and complaining about ‘youth today’ was blown away in a second!

Going to Tim’s in the morning is such fun! I usually take a book, sit by myself and read…and listen. Now and then…like yesterday… I join a table and listen, throwing in the odd comment to egg on the speculation. Who needs TV? Who needs a job? This is entertainment at its best in small town Alberta!