In the Gap Between Gratitude and Grief

I have a lot for which to be thankful. No doubt, there were times that challenged my sense of equilibrium in my world however, I am blessed with selective memory when it comes to moving forward in my life. Lingering long over past hurts and old wounds contributes little to a meaningful life, long lived.

At now 70+, I can look back with a deep sense of appreciation, joy and amazement… not to mention outright marvelling at the undeniable magic of those compelling moments that confirmed there is indeed, a Universe that directs my path! People, places, moments in time; environments of discovery and profound expansion; life-long friends intermingled with clients and colleagues who became friends.

Blood family and family of choice (Ohana) standing strong in the midst of unwelcome and misunderstood invitations for a deeper dive into our own courage, strength and determination to not lose faith in ourselves and each other.

My life has been spent in profound, compelling, life-giving and life-altering explorations of who we are…. of who I am… in our day-to-day expressions of Being. Decades of being privileged to be in the presence of those rediscovering themselves… sometimes, barely able to breathe that they might emerge from the depths and immensity of the painful, exhausting memories that have encased them in concrete for much of their adult lives. Hearing tales of human beings at their worst… each tale of inflicted brutality of body, mind and Soul more heart-breaking than the last; bearing witness to bodies wracked in and convulsed with pain… and through it all, astonished at the rising of the human Spirit, undaunted by what has been that they might move into what might become.

For these past and far too many months, our lives… individually and collectively… have been weighed down by the immense shroud of fear that has ensured we close our eyes tightly, brace against all that we do not know in our blanket surrender to what we are told is ’truth’, and hope to be saved. Through the thick fog of these purported ‘truths’ imposed by the surrogates for parents long-ago in control of our lives, we have remained hidden and separated. We have lost trust in each other but worse, we have lost trust in ourselves…. in our innate ability to know an inner truth and allow it to guide us through the moments we’re in. We have allowed our heads to be bowed as we await direction on the next step of how to be human, today. Official Storytellers shape our next choice… and soon, the Storytellers will be the only ones remaining with choice.

I no longer recognize who we are in what we are becoming. Being ‘Canadian, eh’, the tendency to be polite… to be accommodating to and with others… is a part of my valued heritage. Encouraged to have a long fuse…. to give another the benefit of a doubt… I have lived my life with those unspoken expectations of what it is to be part of a world still connected to that which sustains the True North, strong and free. Over these last 20 months, I have seen us disappear into a quivering, needy mass desperate for someone to fix the unfamiliar world in which we find ourselves. We have abdicated… making way for those who might eagerly take control of our lives to do so. And through it all, we have been grateful and offered up yet greater willingness to be controlled as we sink deeper into our own sense of not having a clue how to take care of ourselves. For the first time in my life, I know both shame and anger at the arrogance of my government and the cowardice of those of us who support its over-reach. The so-called ‘emergency’ is long past. And still, command-and-control not only persists but seeks to expand the reach of its sticky tentacles into the living of every life – welcomed or otherwise.

We each choose. Whether we tell ourselves and others that we are simply being a responsible citizen; that we are doing the ‘morally just’ thing or that we are ’taking one for the team’… what will long remain are the consequences of whatever action we have taken. Not a good /bad, right/wrong situation… no matter how much we might want to talk ourselves into believing that it is that simple. It is a personal thing. A deeply intimate and evidential thing. A surface reflection of a much deeper and more fragile landscape that drives the direction in which we choose to move.  A choice that in its making reveals much of who and what we are, to ourselves and each other. Attention to the process of how we made that choice seems sorely lacking in the great press for it all to just stop and return to a ’normal’ with which we long to remain  gratefully familiar.

The Storytellers rejoice! The narrative continues far beyond the reach of any virus to do harm. The rallying cry is now: “A needle in every arm!”… trailing off before we can hear “… whatever the cost.” The narrative continues because we long for it; we supplicate to it; and we tell ourselves that to allow an injection of experimental gene therapy into our arm… as we eagerly anticipate making it so for our children… makes us the hero. In truth, it makes us mindless and complicit in the increasingly devastating loss of any sovereignty in our individual, personal life. It is a sad, sad time when my body becomes yours for the taking, as an expectation of ‘good’ governance.

I often find myself wondering: for those who have chosen an experimental gene therapy, how much research has each done? How much of their decision was driven by the talking head of legacy media; the unquestioning trust in politicians and government; or the intense fear that creates the fog of war with ourselves? I’m one of the fortunate ones. Because I am retired, I have had the time to follow my curiosity and take the deep dive into the oceans of conflicting ‘fact and fiction’ about it all. In the final analysis, there is no absolute truth – there is only the one I choose to embrace and from that, the choice I make. The context within which this medical invasion is taking place is visible for any who choose to look. Despite the wide-sweeping efforts to censor the voices of others, their truth nonetheless finds its ways into the consciousness of those who seek to know.

There is one thing about which I am unwavering: I know when I am being lied to. My body tells me… signals a ’glitch in the matrix’ is happening… and invites me to push the pause button on my willingness to simply regurgitate what I am told. Your body does the same for you. Question is: do we know how to listen? Are we willing and able to act in accordance with that signal, regardless of the discomfort that might come with that pause? In this current reality, the simple act of choosing to pause… and not make any choice… can create the space that makes an abrupt awakening to a larger context, possible.

For what it’s worth, I share below some links to voices that may surprise. Never a fan of the pharmaceutical industry and long distrusting of the allopathic medical model, there will be no surprises in what you might find below should you choose to explore them. In truth, I am indifferent to whether you to choose to consider or not. What I am not indifferent to is the pressure to be silent at a time in my life when raised voices are more imperative than ever. I want my grandchildren to know the freedom to choose, as I have for so many decades. I know that will not come without a willingness to take a stand for it.

* Can we Believe Any of the Covid Numbers? – Norman Fenton, Professor of Risk Information Management, Queen Mary University

* Why Do So Many Still Buy Into the Narrative? – Mattias Desmet, Professor of Clinical Psychology at Ghent University in Belgium

* Will the Unvaccianted Be Exiled? – The implications of vaccine passports

* Who Controls the Future? – Dan Astin-Gregory – opinion piece

There were more. Given the level of censorship in today’s world, they are no longer available to be found.

“When you tear out a man’s tongue, you are not proving him a liar; you’re only telling the world that you fear what he might say.” – (Tyrion Lannister)