Super achieving self

My super achieving and competitive self with the male ego that needs to be fed on some level, wonders what has to be done at this time in the ways I know and have learnt best, to survive the changes upon us. I have tried to position myself, even tried the bush and going into the wilderness for double the prescribed 40 days and nights, and pondered the answers to such survival questions now faced by thousands, if not millions in the days to come.

Even though death may be an illusion, there are parts of us that do die when we die, as well as parts that do not die. It is not a level playing field, and it is the ego, that tries to keep us alive and protected while we are here, and I do pay attention to its role in my life. So I have been learning this year, how to simplify down to basics, and how to live even just out of a backpack or less. Right now, I type this in a canvas tent, with a room and a queen sized bed, but can get by just with my bedroll straight on the ground. I have unprocessed sea salt, and a years supply of Yerba Mate survival tea. Storm proof matches, pressure cooker, gas stove, are items that I can live without, but still have in order to make life a little bit less challenging. I have been a lifetime vegetarian, so with the right mix of nuts, beans, and legumes, I have always gotten enough protein, along with free range eggs, which will be dispensed with, once bird viruses get out of control. I drink liquid cholorophyll in a diluted amount, and find it a pleasant and sweet drink without any added sugar. This has helped to balance out many developing problems, and is the one natural functional food I have with me everywhere. If there is a cut, I put some of this on it, undiluted, and it is healed in a few days. It literally is the closest thing to human blood, being plant blood instead, with magnesium at the core instead of iron in human blood.

Of course, I have had my trusty Toshiba Laptop everywhere I have gone in order to write any impressions coming to mind at the time. I do not speak too much about what is happening in my daily life, as I never like to bring anyone completely up to speed with where I am and what I am doing, so it is impossible to track me from reading blogs. Like a magical creature, I am not found, only danced into situations, and danced out again for any of a number of reasons which may come along. There are always choices looking at me each day, and if I suspect trouble, then I leave the area immediately, as I will not be caught up in either natural disasters, or someone needing to spread their pain and fear around. If this is their issue, then it is best they sort it out, and I do not even rub salt into the wound, but leave in peace without another word being spoken.

It is true that some have helped along the way, although I could have been helped by the public system, they insisted I do it via private means, only to be overcome with fears and guilts on the back end for the money it has cost. The choice was always there, and trying to show that one has the means when it really has to do with putting on a brave face, is a wrong reason to make offers of help that are later regretted. Either one gives unconditionally, or not at all, in the days to come. Such is how love is, without needed for recompense. I have no guilt or shame around such when there was a clear choice, and those giving help did so at the time with the best intent that changed for whatever reasons. Offers of help are always on the table from some quarter or other, and am presently looking at an offer to take me to another country to be of more assistance to where I presently am. So there are choices presented to me everyday that can make the whole picture change for me. Many possible time lines, and therefore try to be responsible to look carefully at each one, before choosing the route I wish to take down the highway of life. The joy certainly has been in the journey for me.

Anaconda.

Just Do It!

My dad went under the pseudonym of William Westcott in South America when he did the opera circuit during the second world war, being presented with Caruso’s sword via his personal physician. He had introductory letters to Tusconini and Toruso, and the world at his feet as an dynamic opera tenor, who could have easily been shoulder to shoulder with the worlds great voices. Instead, he chose to give it all up to become a singing evangelist then a clergyman, choosing only to sing gospel music in the south pacific throughout his ministry as Pastor William Percy Cook.

When he emigrated to Canada in the early seventies from New Zealand, after spending the first decade in south west New South Wales of Australia, then the next one in North New Zealand, he found himself in Vancouver without his luggage. It was cold, he had no winter gear, and could not access his money as it was the weekend. He stayed in the east end of Vancouver for that weekend, in a motel I would have associated with hookers and druggies.

Years later when the Ugandans were sitting at Toronto Airport in their summer clothes, and cold and with nothing, my dad remembered the days of his arrival in Canada, and wanted to help. He approached his church to do something, and their response was that they would have a committee around it, but my father insisted that it needed action, not committee meetings. Their final answer was that if he felt that strongly about it, then do something himself. So he approached the Ugandan Committee, who were also caught up in the beaurocracy of constant meetings, and offered his services. He told me later that he didn’t even have a hankerchief to give them. The committee pointed out a fat man and a skinny man, and asked if he could do something for them, so he went out and bought them clothes. They then gave my parents the job of "just doing it" for their people. And do it they did, working seven days a week around the clock. A film was made of them from the United Nations, and I looked at a letter from Premier Davis of Ontario, Canada, who said that it was a model of co-operation between church and state. In a previous blog, I mentioned that they helped 20,000 people from 50 nations, basically single-handedly. Everyone got sheets and a blanket, and were clothed with cold winter gear to those who had none, and other clothes should they be required. There was no cost to the recipient, nor to any other body.

In this time when millions are becoming homeless overnight, going back to the tsunami, the one thing that has come forward for analysis, is the growing anger of the people towards governments which show they are ill prepared for disasters, and better equipped just to fight a war. Every level of government has been a let down in this, right up to the United Nations, who had committee after committee happening without any action seen on the field. This is the feeling currently in Pakistan with the military in control. Even in countries such as the one I live in (Australia) there is more preparation for terrorist acts, than disaster. I see no disaster preparation on a world wide scale, even though it has become increasingly clear that they are flowing into each other at this time in history, whether the upcoming bird flu pandemic, to new disasters lining up, whether floods in Guatemala, or volcanoes going off elsewhere. If the governments aren’t doing anything, then what is the civilians doing? I see no preparation or word of one going on, and if there is one thing that needs to be said, that preparation should be ongoing along with stockpiling, and then when the next disaster hits closer to home, then instead of committee meeting after committee meeting, people will just get out and do it.

I see a day coming soon, when the disasters become that bad, that the war machine will grind to a halt, and go into defence of the population over offence. Then the obvious will happen. Governments will prove themselves (as they are doing right now with the slow response times everywhere) to be irrelevant, and no longer wanted by the masses. Life will be returned to tribal living, and tribal decisions, over centralized governing bodies. That kind of life seems to be drawing to a close as does our capitalistic thinking that has precipitated the problems by our raping of the land. That too, is seen as gradually winding down to nothing, giving way to new ways of thinking and being. It is indeed unfortunate that we are so short sighted that we do not prepare for ourselves or others, as everything becomes self serving until disaster strikes. Disasters turn into a rallying cry for those displaced, as we now see from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, with all kinds of navel gazing happening. The time to act is now, not after the fact of something painful happening to more and more people. There are darker days coming, as such a wake up has not occurred, and the Collective of Mankind has no choice but to allow the changes to affect us in painful ways until the Whole begins to awaken. Once that happens, then the sun will begin to shine again on many levels, that today is best reflected by nonsense stories promulgated by the media that seem to be based on violence, hate, and crime, over the love, kindness, and compassion that lives in everyone’s hearts.

Rather than wait for disaster to strike, begin to prepare now, by simplification of life, so that much can be given, to being prepared inside and outside of oneself. That to me is the best way to be able to handle the days ahead.

So instead of committees and thinking someone else will go there, it is up to you to "Just Do It!"

Anaconda

Always seen

My super achieving and competitive self with the male ego that needs to be fed on some level, wonders what has to be done at this time in the ways I know and have learnt best, to survive the changes upon us. I have tried to position myself, even tried the bush and going into the wilderness for double the prescribed 40 days and nights, and pondered the answers to such survival questions now faced by thousands, if not millions in the days to come.

Even though death may be an illusion, there are parts of us that do die when we die, as well as parts that do not die. It is not a level playing field, and it is the ego, that tries to keep us alive and protected while we are here, and I do pay attention to its role in my life. So I have been learning this year, how to simplify down to basics, and how to live even just out of a backpack or less. Right now, I type this in a canvas tent, with a room and a queen sized bed, but can get by just with my bedroll straight on the ground. I have unprocessed sea salt, and a years supply of Yerba Mate survival tea. Storm proof matches, pressure cooker, gas stove, are items that I can live without, but still have in order to make life a little bit less challenging. I have been a lifetime vegetarian, so with the right mix of nuts, beans, and legumes, I have always gotten enough protein, along with free range eggs, which will be dispensed with, once bird viruses get out of control. I drink liquid cholorophyll in a diluted amount, and find it a pleasant and sweet drink without any added sugar. This has helped to balance out many developing problems, and is the one natural functional food I have with me everywhere. If there is a cut, I put some of this on it, undiluted, and it is healed in a few days. It literally is the closest thing to human blood, being plant blood instead, with magnesium at the core instead of iron in human blood.

Of course, I have had my trusty Toshiba Laptop everywhere I have gone in order to write any impressions coming to mind at the time. I do not speak too much about what is happening in my daily life, as I never like to bring anyone completely up to speed with where I am and what I am doing, so it is impossible to track me from reading blogs. Like a magical creature, I am not found, only danced into situations, and danced out again for any of a number of reasons which may come along. There are always choices looking at me each day, and if I suspect trouble, then I leave the area immediately, as I will not be caught up in either natural disasters, or someone needing to spread their pain and fear around. If this is their issue, then it is best they sort it out, and I do not even rub salt into the wound, but leave in peace without another word being spoken.

It is true that some have helped along the way, although I could have been helped by the public system, they insisted I do it via private means, only to be overcome with fears and guilts on the back end for the money it has cost. The choice was always there, and trying to show that one has the means when it really has to do with putting on a brave face, is a wrong reason to make offers of help that are later regretted. Either one gives unconditionally, or not at all, in the days to come. Such is how love is, without needed for recompense. I have no guilt or shame around such when there was a clear choice, and those giving help did so at the time with the best intent that changed for whatever reasons. Offers of help are always on the table from some quarter or other, and am presently looking at an offer to take me to another country to be of more assistance to where I presently am. So there are choices presented to me everyday that can make the whole picture change for me. Many possible time lines, and therefore try to be responsible to look carefully at each one, before choosing the route I wish to take down the highway of life.

The joy certainly has been in the journey for me.

Anaconda.

My Superstar Dad

My dad was a superstar in his own right, but a person who found that bright lights, fame and fortune were hollow, so that he sought a life with family and church instead of the opera circuit. However, even in this circle, we were moved around by winds of demand from those seated in power. Not fair to us children, we were constantly moved, so that there was nowhere I can call home from the day I was born. True to the myths of what gypsies were like (only we were not gypsies), dad constantly travelled, and at times it seemed like he always had to sing for a meal somewhere or other, till he resented his being used that way. He told me that people were using him like an orange, squeezed for the juice with the rest thrown away.

Dad had been trained in singing the English language so that you could hear every word he said, unlike a lot of opera where one has to read the script in order to get an idea of what the story plot was in song. He did the South American opera circuit (under the name of William Westcott) during the second world war, and had letters of introduction to Toscanini, and Toruso. Enrico Caruso’s personal physician presented dad with Caruso’s sword during this time, but after dad met mum, married her (from Trinidad), emigrated back to Australia (mum was the first war bride chinese allowed into Australia after WW2), and had their first son in Adelaide, that he made up his mind to go a different road. He walked away from the opera, became a Seventh Day Adventist, travelled to Cooranbong to study for the Ministry, and I was born while he still was at the Adventist University. He never finished, as they wanted him out on the field as a Singing Evangelist. So into the outback of NSW we went in my childhood, and went all over the countryside, from Wagga Wagga, Griffith, Albury, Bathurst, before getting back to Sydney by the time I was eight years old.

We moved a few times in Sydney, not counting how many times we moved before getting to a big city. At age 12, and just as we were settling into a new home in Penrith, we moved to New Zealand, where dad was part of a mission team all over the north island. It wasn’t until I was nearly 20 that I finally got to go back to Sydney again, but mum and dad never got back to Australia to live. Instead they moved to Canada in 1972, and I followed them in 1975, three years later. There were three of us boys, but it was I who lived nearby them for the remainder of dad’s life, until he died in 2002, thirty years after going to Canada. In that time, he helped clothe and give a blanket to every family coming in as refugees around 1975-76, and I witnessed them working around the clock 7 days a week to help 20,000 refugees from 50 nations in the city of Toronto. They had hundreds of children calling them mum and dad, as they were separated from their parents who were sent elsewhere. The church wanted the accolades that they received so they tried to move my dad out of the area up to Thunder Bay, in northern Ontario. Dad refused to be moved due to the work he was doing, supported by the government of the day who made it plain to the church that if they moved dad, the name of the church would come down as it was the Cook’s who were doing the work, not the church. So they fired my father after years of service for his insubordination in this matter.

I went with him as he tried to find work in his late 50s, and found it humiliating for him. He did find work, and with my older brothers help, they bought a place that skyrocketed in value, so that in less than twenty years, dad; just turning 70, moved to Vancouver away from Toronto, where he lived till he died in New Westminster. I write about the church here, as I think it a shameful thing that a man who devoted his life to humanity worldwide, where they kicked us from pillar to post, used such authority to dictate to my dad throughout his life, never allowing him freedom from the system.

So with the many moves, and lack of mentoring, I thought outside of the box, and learnt to hit the ground running. Unfortunately, I never worked for the church so was unable to aid my parents with their healing work, as I had to go and work to feed four mouths. However, this passage is about a wonderful man who could have literally made millions of dollars just with his voice, but gave it up to aid in the healing of Mankind as his crowning act of work, before bowing out in silence and with no word having been spoken about his wonderful singing and life. Here then is my tribute to my superstar hero dad, who showed me the way of love, even if I did not believe the doctrines he followed, nor the church of his choosing. I can say though, that it did lay the foundation for spiritual thinking that worked outwards till the secrets of life began to become clear to me through the understanding of myself and the interaction played with an Intelligent Moment, or Noesis.

I had been dad’s right hand person, being his main accompanist for a decade. We became one in our music, and enjoyed a link with my dad that few men ever get to experience with their dad. We were not emotional in our demonstration of love to each other, but in dad’s love for humanity through his song, I knew his emotions intimately enough that I knew exactly when each word was going to be sung so that the timing of us both to each other in the rubato type of music he did, was perfect! Emotionally we met in the music all the time. So even though I never ended up believing what dad did in his church, ( a big disappointment to him) we met in other ways that I know were the first lessons for me around love and giving, and where the praise was actually due. Love underlay everything dad was, and know that we meet in the forever due to just this fact alone. He has come to me a few times in dreams since he has died, but know that one day, we will meet again. Suffice it to say, it is Love that brought it all about, and it will be Love that will be the meeting point for us both again, in as beautiful harmony as we ever made. Thanks dad, for showing me what Love can be like…………

Anaconda