Monthly Archives: September 2014


What a relief!  Someone paid me money that was overdue.  I removed the cobwebs and dust from my wallet.

I know attitude is a choice.  I know nothing outside me determines my happiness.  In theory I know these things, but in practice how easy it is to feel happy when I have money.  Money cannot buy happiness, but it is a wonderful down payment.



Dominic died on September 10.  His funeral will be on September 18.  At his funeral, a priest will ask God to accept Dominic’s soul.  Does that mean that on September 10 God told Dominic, “Sorry, Dominic, but I can’t accept you yet.  I have to wait until I hear from the priest at your funeral.” ?

Referring to the near-death experience, people report that the White Light instantly surrounded them with unconditional love.  The White Light did this without instructions from any human being.  This cannot be right according to religious dogma.  How can the White Light unconditionally love and accept a soul without the approval of a priest?

Dominic, I know your soul is not stuck for something to do until your funeral.  It is your choice if it is.   Why would you make such a choice?  You would not.  Right now you are enjoying your new perspective.  After all, death is only a change in perspective.  Peace.



I just heard that Dominic, a guy I went to high school with, died.  The last few years he had several health issues.  Now he is free of them and on to his next adventure.

We do not end after our bodies die.  Nothing ends, or begins.  Everything in the Universe goes round in circles.  Winter changes to Spring.  Spring changes to Summer.  Summer changes to Fall, and Fall changes back into Winter.  Why would our lives be any different?

I could never understand a God who loved unconditionally sending people to burn in Hell forever because they screwed up.  I can understand a God, who loves unconditionally, saying, “I love you.  I have always loved you.  I will always love you no matter what.  Rest here awhile, and then go back to try again.”

People reporting near-death experiences talk about the unconditional love that came from the Being of Light.  They also report the lack of judgement.  They say that when they saw their life review, and all of effects of their actions, they judged themselves.  The only thing that came from the Being of Light was unconditional love.

Near-death experiencers  also say how they wanted to stay with the Light and Love and not go back to their bodies.  But they heard, “Go back.  It is not your time yet.  You still have work to do.”  

No one dies before his or her time.  Dominic completed his mission.  It was his time to go.  Now he rests.  And then?  Who knows?

Godspeed, Dominic, Godspeed.



Human arrogance thinks that it, through science, can explain the Universe.  Human arrogance thinks that information is not real unless science can prove it.  Information is nonsense  if  it does not fit the currently accepted paradigms.

What makes human beings think that their limited intellect can explain the vast mysteries of the Universe?   Albert Einstein said, “Logic will get you from A to B.  Imagination will take you everywhere.”   But the mysteries of the Universe are beyond anything human beings can imagine.

Human arrogance is what caused Antoine Lavoisier to say, “Stones cannot fall from the sky, because there are no stones in the sky!”   The Académie Française des Sciences had sent Lavoisier to investigate a village where the villagers claimed that stones fell from the sky.  The current accepted paradigm did not include meteor showers.  Lavoisier dismissed the villagers’ claim in his report to the Académie.   After all, what do ignorant villagers know? 

Fear is behind human arrogance.  Humans fear uncertainty.   How comfortable and safe to live in a world where everything is explained and  fits into current paradigms.  How courageous are people who question everything, and live with uncertainty!





It is a love-hate relationship with writing.  I am always anxious over what I am going to write.  Sometimes I feel so anxious I do not write.  But then I feel bad for not writing.

I always feel good after writing something, but only for a short time.  Soon the cycle begins again.  I feel anxious over what to write.  I must write something . . .




Minding my business is fun: everybody wants to do it.  Everybody knows better than I, and better than my gut feeling, what is best for me and what I should do.

I enjoy my company.  I am happy being alone.  I am not lonely.  Yet I have had some women tell me, “You’re not happy.  Spending all your time alone is not good for you.  If you were with me, then I would give you space to be alone.”

“But I don’t want to be in a relationship,” I say.  “I already have my space without having to worry about someone giving it to me.  I am happy being on my own.”

“No you’re not.  It’s not good for you to be alone.”

In other words, “How you feel does not count because only I know what is good for you.”

The same attitude comes from family and friends.  They do not approve of the actions resulting from my gut feelings.  (My life in the arts.) My actions violate their dictum Trust not yourself.  Always look outward to outside authority for guidance.  They want to mind my business to stop me from threatening their beliefs.  They go out of their way to ask me what I am doing, and then give me all kinds of unsolicited advice.

I no longer tell them anything when they ask.  They get angry.  They say, “But we’re only trying to help you.”  They do not see their help as overbearing-boundary-busting.  Now when they ask me, “What are you doing?”

“Minding my business,”  I say.  “How about you?”




As a kid, I wanted to be invisible.  I would pray to God that if he gave me the power of invisibility, then I would go to Sunday School for the rest of my life.  (Looking back now, I am not sure how my going to Sunday School for the rest of my life would benefit God, but back then I thought it would.)  Occasionally we had foggy weather in Toronto.  Since God was taking his time answering my prayer, a fog was my chance to become invisible.

I stood in the fog in front of my house.  I could still see myself, but the fog was dense up the street near my friend Keith’s house.   I thought that I would be invisible in the dense fog; so I ran up the street and stood in front of Keith’s house.  How disappointing!  I could still see myself, but I understood why: the denseness of the fog had moved.  It was front of my house.

I ran from Keith’s house back to my house.  Darn!  I could still see myself.  The dense fog had moved back to Keith’s house.  How come the fog was doing this?  Why didn’t the fog leave its denseness in one spot?  I kept running from my house to Keith’s house, and from Keith’s house back to my house — all the while missing the dense fog and remaining visible.   After awhile, I got tired and went inside.

I always got a lot of exercise whenever we had a fog.



The killing in movies looked too real.  I thought that the people were actually killed.   Adults were always having debates on Capital Punishment.  I thought that the movie production companies took convicted murderers and gave them roles in movies.  The convicted murderer’s death sentence took place on-screen.  How else could anyone explain such graphic deaths?   I did not hear about that many people getting convicted of murder; so I thought that the production companies were getting the convicted murderers from other countries.

Of course once the convicted murderers died, their souls went to Hell.  I knew what Hell and Heaven looked like from pictures, but there were no pictures of a person’s soul.  I thought a soul looked like a rib cage only with tiny white wings.  A person’s soul was their rib cage only with tiny white wings.

I thought about death a lot.  Death frightened me.  I feared my father or mother would die.  A few friends had lost one of their parents.

Death looked like Death in Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal.

When I learned that numbers were infinite, I was sad because I would never live long enough to count to the last number.  I wanted to know what the last number was.  “Even if you count after you die, while you’re in Heaven,” said my teacher, “you still will never get to the last number.”

I still get an image of a rib cage with tiny white wings when I hear the word soul.  I have come to accept the infinity of numbers, and it is okay not knowing what the last number is.





(You will have to imagine the tiny white wings)


I wanted to go fishing so badly when I was a kid.  Fishing looked like such fun.  I knew that you had to put worms on a hook, but never thought how this killed the worms or hurt the fish.

I nagged my father to buy me a fishing rod.  My wish to fish was greater than a vampire’s wish to work in a blood bank.  My father said, “Maybe, if you’re good, the Birthday Bunny will bring you a fishing rod.”  I was good, and sure enough, the Birthday Bunny brought me a fishing rod.  (In our family, we had Santa Claus bring us gifts at Christmas; the Easter Bunny bring us chocolate eggs at Easter, and the Birthday Bunny bring us gifts on our birthdays.)

I could not wait to go fishing!  I did not want to eat the fish I caught.  I did not like the taste of fish, but I thought I could keep the fish I caught as pets.

My father took me to Grenadier Pond in High Park.  High Park is in Toronto, and not too far from where we lived.  A  lot of people fished at Grenadier Pond.

I stood at the edge of Grenadier Pond.  I cast and waited.  Oh boy!  I was fishing!

I do not know how long I was waiting for a fish to bite when a bus-size dragon-fly buzzed by.  I had never seen a dragon-fly so big!  I froze while it hovered about inspecting me.  This inspection took forever!   As soon as this bus-size dragon-fly was looking the other way, I carefully put my fishing rod down on the ground and ran and ran and ran.

So ended my fishing career.  I never wanted to go fishing ever again.





Whether it is an  illness from smoking, drinking or other drugs, being a victim of a crime, or getting caught doing something wrong, each one of us thinks, “It won’t happen to me.”   Where do we get this idea that things only happen to other people and not us?  What makes us think that we are so special?

A police officer once told me that stiffer penalties, or harsher jail terms, do not work because everyone he has arrested always thought that he or she would never get caught, and paid no attention to the penalties or jail terms.   Look how stiffer penalties have not stopped crime.

Then it happens.  We get a serious illness from the poisons we put into our bodies; we are victims of crimes often because we did not not take precautions; or we get caught at something we thought we would never get caught at.  What do we say?

“You always hear about this happening to someone else.  You never think that it will happen to you.”