P R E Y I N G    ~     W O R D S



The written and spoken words are meant to be evocative on various levels within our human consciousness. So much so, that studies have been done to of benefit and/or deficit depending on what realm of the resulting studies we inhabit.


The format LinkedIn inhabits one of those realms using the evolving format of video to enhance results building upon the results of studies used in advertising. Here the Self is being promoted/advertised to gain acceptable levels of success.


The process in vogue here is complex and complicated beyond comprehension going forward, and I wonder if an algorithm is in place to study the myriad of styles traversing what is commonly known as cyberspace? The visual enhances our words, whether print or video. But, it’s the video/vlog on the upswing whose potential is making a definitive negative impact when used in the exemplified manner proven in our 20th century history.


Televised expressions with the potential of bringing us together is now tearing us apart in an unceasing manner, more than it previously had on a global scale. We may not require an asteroid to bring our extinction to bear, as or predecessor the dinosaur had. We appear not only more than capable, but also consciously willing to do so.


Predator and prey, we set the boundaries dividing consciously and unconsciously without forethought of consequences; but, this may be the Natural Order. 


We are gleefully, and willingly, making way for our replacements by our belief systems in the socio-economic, religious and political processes according to our behaviours. We have struck the balance and are ageing out as a specie by choice.


Our happiest days can be ahead instead of behind …






D E A D    -or-    A L I V E   ?



Superficially, this appears an odd question; although to some, like myself, not necessarily so.


There are those us who believe each night, as sleep descends upon us like a shroud, our sleep is a sort of death from which we appreciate each morning’s awakening. But, this is not the interrogative to which I refer. There is another question regularly biased on certain experiences. One’s relationship to ‘near-death’ occurrences.


Simply put, how can I ascertain with any certainty I am ‘alive’? This question begets another question which is an assumption, in my mind. What is it to be Alive? Of course, there are those who contend that simply living is not the same as being alive. That statement aside, what is it really, this being alive? I’ll leave the answer to that questioned assumption to your cosmological awareness, while I relay the underpinnings to my inquiry.


I have had many ‘near’ Death experiences; from falling off roofs to near drowning incidents from which my rescue was welcomed. 


But, there were other situations during which consciousness was lost from which I was awakened; and, unexpectedly, since I had no knowledge I was unconscious my mind was set to a course of inquiry. The preceding occurrences are which my interrogatives refer.


Just prior to my 21st birthday I was assaulted and regained consciousness while being lifted onto the backseat of an automobile of two good Samaritans. During a martial arts combat in Alberta my opponent and I knocked each other out, as the saying goes; and, during another combat experience, an illegal strike to the back of my head/neck was issued to Mr. Tai Bo in Barrie, Ontario as it resulted in being struck unconscious and regaining consciousness as I fell into the arms of supporting onlookers. From these loss-of-consciousness occurrences I returned to the land of the living unaware I had shunted off to a realm unknown.


Where did I go, and how did I return? Of course, there is a biological reason for these goings and comings. What is the metaphysical reason since there are no instruments to speak of, or know of, that delineates the process aside from ‘the brain acting in such a way from such a blow causing a lights-out result’? Not only that, where did I go and what is ‘being unconscious’, really? In addition, is it fair to say I died and came back to Life in another state of being, another existence?


Where is here? When the lights went out initially in one frame of Life reference did I return to the same frame of reference or another in an identical/similar frame of reference carrying on as if the loss of consciousness was a transportation from whence I came to where I am? Were those black-out experiences similar to nightly sleep occurrences and identical/similar to what some call, ‘The Big Sleep’?


A laughing matter to some, a curiosity to me. Is there a definitive answer to this interrogative?  Oftentimes, in a fever, I would hallucinate being caught in a time-loop, and I was sorely tested to maintain a focus that carried me through a return to sleep. I awoke this morning, February 1st 2019, feeling anxious and uncertain of my location verging on panic as I was often challenged during aforementioned fever sessions throughout the Spring and Summer of 2018.    


Where  am  I ? 





8d. Slight of Hands

H A I K U ?



Any line drawn in sand will be erased by the natural ebb and flow of the tide.








Once upon a time there was a young lad who, to all appearances, was quiet and shy. He was well cared for in spite of goings on round about, which was beyond his comprehension. All that he knew was his comings and goings that occurred beneath the adult worlds that affected how his growing body behaved. His young mind he was left to wander, exploring as would any other child amidst regularly changing environments.


Some days he would awaken to one surrounding only to retire that evening in a different surrounding. The emotional context was likewise irregular, not that anyone noticed the effects on his childhood sensibilities. What was known, efforts were made to control the superficial aftereffects. One such was that his severe asthmatic attacks. At times he was hospitalized, while the adults about having concerns as to his survival. 


He appeared to be surviving in spite of the attacks which were random, while no one connected the dots to emotional environmental influences. The attacks came, he was consoled to a level of calm until the attacks subsided. Then, along came an addendum to his body-discordant behaviour, bed-wetting. 


Unlike the asthma, he was seldom aware of this occurrence. Recollections in later years, would usher laughter among family members. However, at those times he was most alarmed, ashamed as his mother’s shoe, the cutlery drawer and beds on visits in relatives’ homes. 


There was one notable visit to the countryside where the facility was an outhouse that he was fearful to use after dark. He had made certain to use it at bedtime, but during the night he awoke to a cold sensation, a wet spot that he feared would be a dead giveaway of his failure to contain.


Time passed and, surprisingly entering adolescent, he outgrew that malady alongside a supporting his strategy that helped control his asthma.


How this strategy came about was most unusual, which he gives credit to Divine Guidance. One morning, around the age of eleven, it simply occurred to him he needed to start running. And, so he did for the next ten years which ushered in other Guided phases, albeit on another continent thousands of miles away north. Granted, it was not as simple as it sounded. There were a lot of walking amidst the running in which he developed a technique of interval running.


It was not until his high school years on this continent that he was able to run a mile without stopping, or slowing down. It was just past his seventeenth year in Life that he would successfully run one mile, non-stop, a personal best. Memories that would not be forgotten easily, as there were times he would wet his bed in his dream states. Fortunately, his alarm would subside upon checking found his bed dry. He did find this a warning of untoward conditions that were to be managed. He was learning to respond instead of reacting.


Likewise, with the asthma he was to manage the overwhelming aspects of goings on in his life as best he could. Understandingly, there are limitations in Life for on one occasion he had an attack that occurred during sleep. He was Guided to prepare for this onslaught before sleep and was told of what occurred by his travelling partner upon waking. 


He learned of his abilities, and where to apply his measure of control within given occurrences. To date he manages as best he can, within his limitations, growing forward into a world as one among many ageing out of this Mortal Coil.






1a. Gated Guest c.'53




‘It was the best of times’ being a healthy adolescent, and ‘It was also the worst of times’ being that healthy adolescent. After a lengthy separation from our primary caregiver we faced a reunion for which little preparation was made. Not that any could be given ongoing circumstances, which would have the comprehensive effectiveness of water off a duck’s back. How my younger sibling was processing what we experienced I was similarly unconscious and unaware while I entered adolescence.


An incident imprinted onto my consciousness, during my initial encounter within the school system and remained with me into this 21st century. 


Have you ever been engrossed in a poetry reading in a text that seduced you by its easy syntactical refrain that concluded unexpectedly leaving you traumatized? I had such a transitioning experience reading the poem, “Richard Corey”. Shocked and amazed, and preceding without its deconstruction by the presiding teacher, I was to carry and process that traumatic influence into adulthood on my own.


As with many adolescents, I could be counted among those displaced from their original and national surroundings under varying conditions exacerbated noted as ‘prior’ conditions. These conditions coalesced into an internalized desire for a safe haven which the outside world judged as aloofness bordering on arrogance.


Time passed, I survived those growth experiences levied by Life’s Circumstances that conditioned. According to what I deemed The Universal Construct, my mind began questioning my place in this existence asking what It was all about? What grew within gave way to a deluge of words. In what was my 18th year, I began to awaken at 3:00am putting pen to paper in a prose format. After an accumulation of these writings, I ventured to inquire of their import from my Gr. 12 high school English Teacher. As Fortune would have it, my pages of prose/poetry resonated with my contemporaries and their class project turned my writings into a Book of Poems!


It appeared looking internally allowed me to process my angst through eloquent words. Words which forced me to contemplate alternatives to musings on, “Do I remain here, or do I opt out into another plane of existence?”


It was an excruciating phase but creativity was driving me during those 3:00am sessions! Apparently, my early extensive religious exposure added accent and support to the content of these poems. However, what aggravated my mindset were concerns of those I would leave behind carrying the burden of pain if that departure option was chosen. My immediate family had just reunited. We were undergoing adjustments and my input, such as it appeared, required my presence where I felt obligated and responsible to be present.


This Mortal Coil did not seem like much, having no endearing or redeeming qualities to my liking. But, I did have that aching feeling that disallowed me the choice to shifting my life from this existence into The Unknown Abyss foisting unbearable pain on those remaining.


I decided on struggling, on shouldering what was to come moment by moment. 


Interestingly, after six decades the struggling continues with a decided difference. Added to the option to transition out by choice is Transition by Design, through whatever options Change/Fate affords. I know not from whence I came, nor to where I’ll be going; but, what keeps me here is still a factor in being here.  


Choice  ~  Action  ~ Derivation    Causality





2b. Setling In c.'65

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