My Bio

June 2005

I was born January 12 1947. Eventually I grew up between an older brother and sister and a younger sister and brother. My childhood can be summarized into going to school, playing sports and attending church every Sunday. There we learned there was supposed to be God's plan. Between '68 and '71 I went to university where I trained to become a teacher but more importantly learned there didn't seem to be a plan. Unlike what was supposed to be I had no relationship and less motivation. While contemplating my apparent future I could see myself in a position where a desperate student asked me some variation of “What's happening?” and I didn't have the answer. I decided I should have it before I began to teach; consequently, instead of jumping into it I sat on the bank and looked at the mainstream of life. 1

Analyzing life took a bit longer than I had anticipated. I finally finished organizing my analysis into an essay I entitled, “What’s Happening: a view of life”, in 1998. It was too late to teach students but there is no shortage of people asking so I thought I should offer the answer to the world. I made a feeble attempt to have my essay published but the lack of response convinced me that given the amount of related material already in existence, the tons of it being written and the number of voices shouting to be heard, I wouldn't be. Still, when in 2000 I learned of a writing contest, I decided to enter thinking I might attract attention to my essay. There were length restrictions so I condensed it into a long poem and a precis. They emerged with the title "The Law of Human Nature". They didn't win but I had a 6 page poem and an 8 page precis that were more likely to be read than a 65 page essay. 2

In 2001 I invited my parents to live with me because they could no longer organize their lives. Due to their needs I quit working in my carpentry shop and with a sense of relief put my writing on a 'shelf' in my mind. My father died in his bed April 2004. I remember when I picked up his ashes first noting the unexpected weight and then thinking, “Is this it?” Shortly after, it occurred to me that at the very least, such as I am, I am my father’s legacy. I felt if I left the results of my life’s main activity on the 'shelf' then I would have squandered the generous amount of time my father gave to me. He didn't agree with what I had written but throughout my life he always supported me. Thus in part to honour my father's gifts I retrieved my writing. 3

While researching hard copy publication over the next few months I discovered the internet and the web. As a result, in Feb 2005 I bought a computer, learned to type and using a ready made platform, set up this web site to publish my poem. The first name I considered for my site was "The Law of Human Nature" but besides being uninspiring I felt that though the "law" seems to rule our lives, it doesn't capture its essence. After distilling my thoughts for a while I was left with, if anything, the answer to "What's Happening" is a question of meaning. Accordingly I entitled my website and my poem, "The Last Why". Then I clicked enable and opened the door to the w.w. 'classroom'. I’m very excited but I have never been more nervous. I have taken my biggest leap of faith yet, into the unknown, I am gambling with my life and there is again a 50/50 chance I will discover I was a fool to think life needed to be analyzed, that I could do it and anyone would want to read the analysis. 4

June 2007

I didn't think of updating "my bio" last year because but there wasn't much to update. During my first year of writing I added prose entries to my journal and wrote a weekly letter about life with Mom that I sent to my siblings and eleven relatives, in my first effort to attract visitors to my site. Mostly I was a bother. A sister Sharon, her daughter Elia and Carolyn a cousin I had never gotten to know were my only regular visitors. I became better acquainted with my niece through her comments. Carolyn invited her father, my mother's brother, to live with her so we shared the unique experiences of living with a failing parent and she frequently commented on my poems. 5

About thirteen months ago I became a member of ilovephilosophy.com (ILP). in another effort to generate visits to my site. Each post to the forum contained a link, an invitation to my site. I began a thread with my journal entry, "Life: a reaction to the void". A few months ago when the number of hits to my thread surpassed 20,000 I decided to copy the "dialogues" to my site hoping they might attract similar attention here. They didn't. To send more invitations, I began writing short "poems" for the ILP creative writing forum. I wrote my first poem for a contest and even a second place finish inspired me to write over 30 more. About 16,000 people have read them. I have been surprised by the response and I am grateful. However, my effort produces so few visits to my site, most days it is mainly having made the decision to invite my now 91 year old mother to live with me that keeps me from thinking I am a complete fool. 6

Among other efforts to generate traffic I have just posted "the last why: the precis", a much improved draft of the precis I wrote seven years ago. I was going rewrite it sometime but I had to do it sooner than expected because of another attempt to create interest in my essay. In response to an ad for submissions to the inaugural journal of the Canadian Academy of Independent Scholars (CAIS), I submitted "the last why: the poem" ; but when I was told it was too long I rewrote and submitted my precis instead, then posted it. I am also going to apply for membership in CAIS and try to have my site added to Epistemelinks, a collection of philosophical sites. So who knows, perhaps I will have a more favourable 2008 traffic update. Or by then, I may have returned to my shop. 7

December 2008

In July 2007 Mom was attacked by shingles. She said nothing about the 5" wide belt of scabs that covered her right side from her spine to her lower abdomen, I discovered while looking for the cause of pain in her arm. In a panic I took her to the clinic where doctors assured me that even though less severe cases usually required hospitalization, Mom was in recovery and doing well without intervention. More devastating was the two week course of antibiotics Mom was given to combat a bladder infection. I had to plead with her to eat. It was during this time that I wrote "Mother's Leaving". Thankfully Mom recovered, not completely but enough that she was able to return to our garden and to remain the source of inspiration I need to continue publicizing my website. Mom turned 93 on December 28. I wonder if I will be able continue without her. 8

Both my abstract of "The Last Why: the precis" and that of my selected short poems failed to interest the journal committee of CAIS. I wasn't given a reason. Perhaps it was because I proposed submitting original writing and not traditional research papers normally published in journals. Other than that I can only guess that if they got by the style of my abstracts into the substance, the committee concluded there wasn't any. My application to Epistemelinks was also rejected. The site owner said my site did not qualify as a philosophical resource but rather would be more appropriately described as creative writing. I was going to appeal by arguing that all his listed religious/philosophical resources are the consequence of creative writing but decided winning would be as difficult as trying to convince the Pope his entire 'site' is supported by creative writing. So two possible sources of traffic failed to materialize. 9

The CAIS membership committee did approve my application. I was initially excited because membership meant my website would be listed in their registry where it might generate some scholarly traffic. My excitement waned however, when I learned that though it is affiliated with Simon Fraser University in British Columbia, Canada and with other academies, the CAIS is just being developed by a dedicated group of volunteers who have not yet created the registry. The last I heard I am one of 50 members so I even wonder if at this early stage the membership committee may have relaxed its standards so the academy could count one more head regardless of its contents. It remains to be seen if I will give the registry time to generate traffic. 10

In November '07, after 18 months, I ended my daily association with ILP. The writing experience was invaluable and apparently a lot of people still read what I wrote in the forums. I am not sure how they find it in the back pages but visitors to ILP are still reading the thread I began with "Life: a reaction to the void". Up to 01/01/09 it has received 33,900 hits. I don't know how many people have since read the 30 poems I posted there but when I left it was over 20,000. Nevertheless, the percentage of those that then followed links to my site wouldn't register without a lot of preceding zeros. One young man said he used "What's Happening: waiting for Godot" in a term paper and another asked permission to publish "Hummingbirds" in his one page newspaper. At the end though it had been some time since I'd had a referral from ILP, my reason for joining, so I decided it was time to leave. 11

I began using the reclaimed time to rewrite my essay which gave birth to my long poem and precis and from which almost all my writing is derived. I changed the title from "What's Happening: a view of life" to "The Last why: the essay". I wasn't going to rewrite it until I could create a demand because I didn't want to waste the enormous amount of time required to rewrite something no one was going to read. I changed my mind though and decided I would rewrite it so I could link my derivative writing to my essay; and for the pleasure I thought I might derive from making it perfect. I have made good progress but since there is no demand to read it I put it on hold several months ago to begin writing an essay on nutrition, a journal entry I felt might attract visitors to my site.12

At the end of October '07 I decided to create traffic by advertising with Google. I began with an ad that opened my poem "Hummingbirds". Within days Sandy Sandy, an artist with a passion for hummingbirds asked permission to post my poem on her website with a link back to mine. With visions of many referrals, I agreed and asked if I could adorn "Hummingbirds" and "Questions" with her paintings. "Eagles' Vision" and "Wolf's Cry" were inspired by her paintings that accompany these poems. Leading up to Remembrance Day I advertised "Peace Poppies" and prior to Christmas I advertised "Christmas Poem". My poem on Sandy's website has generated about a dozen hits while despite many hundreds of paid hits, the latter two together realized no more than a few additional hits. 13

After my sister Sharon said my poems make her think I created an ad that opens my poems index rather than one poem, a change that greatly increased the number of poems read. Because of this apparent increased interest in my poems, whenever I felt inspired I added new poems to my index and so it has grown from about 30 poems to over 70 during the past year. My motivation for writing poems has not changed. I have never had a dream to become a poet nor do I now have a burning desire to win the Nobel prize for literature. Had I this desire I would not be using the rhythm and rhyme inherited from listening to hymns for the first 24 years of my life. I'd be stringing abstract images together with free verse, which I cannot do honestly. Still, I am trying to create a piece of literature, "a written work, esp...whose value lies in the beauty of (the rhythm and rhyme in our) language (and) in emotional effect." 14

I chose poetry because it takes only seconds to read and fits into my advertising strategy. A piece of poetic literature could go viral attracting increasing numbers of free visitors to my site who while here might also read one of the 3 versions of "The Last Why". I thought "Olympic Nightmare: the little girl", was that piece. I wrote it after hearing the Beijing Olympic organizers had a girl with a pretty face lip-synch the words of a song sung by a girl with a pretty voice. I sent it to the CBC, our national broadcaster, as a comment on the story and they read it on their news cast "The National". Needless to say I was thrilled when I heard it but like Olympic glory, the next day it was as if it never happened. Since then specific ads for "Barack Obama: a cautionary view" and more recently "American Nightmare: the dying economy" caused 'sparks' but neither burst into 'flames'. 15

Had ads for specific poems not generated more hits, those on "Love" indicate it would have the greatest potential for going viral; but it hasn't. However, about a month ago "Love" did initiate an intensifying evaluation of what I am doing. A young woman discovered "Love" after clicking on my Google ad and she liked my poem enough to share it on "StumbleUpon" a social site that was new to me. The sharing resulted in a few hits but more importantly I discovered a less expensive way of advertising specific poems. I tried a few but settled on "Barack Obama: my hope" with discouraging results. 5252 people viewed my poem. 50 or .95% gave it the "thumbs up"; 77 or 1.5% gave it the "thumbs down"; and the rest passed. Half a dozen viewers followed links to one of the other three Obama poems I have written but not even one clicked on at least "The Last Why: the poem". 16

Although I knew I would analyze the results of my index ad sometime, until I saw those of my Obama ad I hadn't and when I did I had to admit they are probably about the same. I have had about 100,000 clicks, about half clicked on at least one other poem, I received no more than 10 comments and recommendations a week over the year. More importantly, out of the 50,000 hits with subsequent hits only about 50 a week or 2500 were on "The Last Why: the poem" and perhaps half as many again were on "The Last Why: the precis"; and I have no idea how many people who clicked on these pieces read them. Each has received only one recommendation. I began advertising to 'prime the pump' but it doesn't seem to be working. What I am getting out of the pump is what I am putting into it. If I quit 'priming', the traffic will stop. This is probably as good a definition as there is for my writing going anti-viral. 17

The reality of the figures made me pause to reflect, for I have spent what for me is a lot of money. I began advertising my site without setting a limit. My only 'advertising' experience was with ILP where even though well over 20,000 people read my 30 poems, only "Heaven" caused a stir worth mentioning. So I imagined I might spend a few hundred dollars, see a flat line on the monitor and quit. However, when the 'patient' showed signs of life I maintained the infusion of cash.  When the amount passed $2000 I rationalized that was less than the amount I would have spent in a year on sporting activities had I not been enjoying time with Mom. I saw that $4000 spent on my mind is less than I'd spent on my teeth. When I reached the $10,000 executives earn in about an hour, I guessed it was less than the amount my siblings would have offered to God. Nevertheless, after spending all this money without apparent results I had to ask myself a long drawn out, "When... are... you... going... to... quit gambling?" that might be echoing somewhere around the world. 18

If you see a gambler putting dollars into a slot then clicking on "detailed traffic activity" to see if the 'stars' line up giving a billion hits, your vision is excellent. I admit I've been addicted to gambling with my life for my entire adult life. While at university I became so addicted to analyzing life rather than studying my academic subjects I was lucky to graduate. When in '71 I did, I bet on postponing a teaching career and continuing my analysis, without training, outside the security, possible prestige, support and the confines of academia. In 1977, after 6 years of odd jobs, living at home and a rejection slip I felt for a 'moment' I had lost. In an effort to win I bet on a well-paying, real job at General Motors with a career path to a corner office, and a relationship. Within two years I discovered I was lost and only found myself again when I bet on following my own path to wherever, alone. 19

Quitting my job was a gamble because without much training in either carpentry or survival, I became a carpenter and left home. I moved from industrial Oshawa Ontario to the mountains of Whistler British Columbia. There I could have become a career carpenter but I bet on just enough self-employment to live and organize my analysis of life. I took a few chances but due to my one experience being double I remained single. Being alone and self-employed allowed me to easily invite my parents to live with me in 2001 but because I had no idea what to expect, the invitation was a huge gamble. Watching my father's body, mind and sprit whither away 24/7 for three years was traumatic for both Mom and me. My inexperience and ignorance left me with "Regrets" that I didn't do more for Dad, but not that I took the gamble. 20

Had I not invited my parents to live with me I would probably still be working as a part-time carpenter and would almost certainly not have taken my biggest gamble. As it turned out, before he died my father left me with income for retirement for which, due to gambling my life, I had made no provision. With income from Dad, Mom continues to support me in an unequal relationship. All I do for her is look after the aspects of her life she no longer can, which are things I do for myself anyway, and give her companionship. In addition to returning that companionship Mom looks after all our routine expenses, she bought  2 computers and pays for my advertising. After I do everything I can for her, Mom still gives me all the time I need to write and an endless supply of inspiration. 21

Still, as I wave goodbye to my first $10,000 and begin a second year of advertising, I wonder how long I will continue. For the time being I can justify the additional expense by comparing it to the far greater amounts millions of others have spent on travel to exotic places. I just happen to be traveling in my mind. It is a journey I cannot evaluate alone so it does seem reasonable to advertise for help. However, how loud does the silence in response to even the short versions of my analysis have to be before I conclude what I have written is incomprehensible? At what point do I decide no one wants to consider even a lucid analysis out of fear, conviction, tradition, obligation, some of all the above or simply because ignorance is bliss? As exotic as it is, for how much longer should I travel in my mind before I accept I was a fool to start that journey and twice the fool for spending money discovering I am a fool? How much more do I offer to God before I accept my offering has been disappearing into a black hole? Is there a time to conclude it doesn't matter I analyzed life? 22

The answer to "What's happening?" I know. The answers to these life questions, I don't know. I do know I won't be able to continue without a source of inspiration. So perhaps I will end my journey when my mother's journey ends. While she is with me though I will continue trying to generate traffic with dedication that matches her inspiration. The way I see it, I am in a simple game of straight poker. Aces are high and jokers are jokers. I am betting my life. I had 5 cards face down on the table. The first two cards I turned over were the king and queen of hearts. Now is not the time to "fold em". 23

June 15 2011

I didn't update my bio at the end of December 2009 because the questions I heard at the end of 2008 had been echoing ever louder throughout the year, increasing my doubt I should even bother with an update. They reached a crescendo July 27 2010 but since then they had diminished to the point I planned to write a December 2010 update. I delayed writing it because I desperately wanted to finish "The Nutritional Ideal", the aforementioned essay which has been a background project since August 2008. I keep thinking, just a bit longer but as it became clearer to me I would probably be finishing my essay closer to the end of the year I decided I shouldn't delay writing my bio until whenever. I chose to update it now because June is half way through the year and I set up my website June 15, 6 years ago. 24

From January 2009 until July 27 2010 I continued caring for Mom, working on my background essay, writing short poems and advertising my site. In addition I began writing letters to the editor of "Pique",  a local weekly, sometime in May 2009. In my first letters I complained in general about inconsiderate dog owners who left their dog's shit where it dropped and in particular about owners who let their dogs shit in and tear up the garden where Mom and I spent so much time. On a whim I forwarded to the editor a letter I had sent to the CBC, our national broadcaster, just because I wanted someone else to read it. He replied, said he liked my writing and asked if he could publish my letter. That encouraged me to write many more, most of them as it happened, related to the upcoming 2010 Olympics being hosted by my home town of Whistler BC. 25

I wrote the first few letters for the novelty of seeing my byline. However, before the novelty wore off, the editor began including my web address with my letters so I continued writing letters for the advertising. It didn't help. Every other week or so for about 9 months it was possible for about 16,000 people to see my web address. Perhaps a few dozen are people I have lived among for 31 years. During my letter writing career maybe a dozen people Googled my website. When it became obvious not even friends and acquaintances were interested in visiting I considered quitting my letter writing and questioned my writing generally. However, Mom still inspired me so I decided instead to post the letters I had written, as a collection of "Olympic Letters", and added to the collection until the Olympics ended. 26

Shortly after I quit writing letters I joined Facebook. I knew it existed because a few referrals a week generated by fb 'friends' sharing my poems were appearing in my log. Appropriately, "Friends" was being shared most frequently and I appreciated every share. I resisted joining for a while but came around to thinking perhaps I could directly increase the number of referrals from fb. Because I had an email acquaintance who is an artist, on Facebook, she was my first 'friend' and consequently other artists became 'friends'. Within days my first friend became my first 'defriend' because she didn't like me analyzing the inspirational sayings she was pulling out of a quote bucket. It wasn't more than a month or so after that I decided artists didn't want to read anything but mutual praise so I quit trying to generate traffic from them. 27

Since I identify with eagles I returned to fb when I heard on TV about a page for the eagle web cam on Hornby Island, BC Can., about 150 kilometres as the eagle flies from where I live. I had written "Eagle's Vision" and I thought I should post it on the page to see if my poem could generate some hits. By the time I figured out I had to "like" the page before I could post on it, the "likes" jumped by a couple thousand so I decided to wait until the number peaked before posting my poem. Mom and I watched as the eaglet hatched in April, until it died just before fledging in the middle of July. During that time I accumulated a couple dozen eagle 'friends' and I wrote 4 new eagle poems. Links to my eagle poems brought many hundreds of visitors to my site. However, in the weeks following the eaglet's death, hits on links to other poems I posted, even from my new eagle 'friends', declined until there was one. My visits to fb decreased accordingly to very few. 28

The results of my advertising increased the volume of my questions even more. I continued to advertise my poems index with google for the entire time and single poems with stumbleupon for periods of time. Without zooming in about 10x to see for sure, my sense is the activity line for my index ad remained consistently flat.  Consequently, without advertising, visits to my site would have dried up. Sharing by email averaged 2 or 3, and searches hovered between 0 and 30, per week. Of the thousands of visitor who access my site through my stumbleupon ad over this period of time, perhaps a few clicked on a second entry. 29

The successive increases in the volume of my questions caused by my letter writing, fb and advertising experiences hardly registered when compared to the increase that occurred on July 27, the day my beloved mother died. She gave life to my writing six years before and nurtured me until the day she left. Just by being with, and supporting me Mom had been my primary source of inspiration, the reason I got up on many mornings. As I regarded the space she had occupied beside me an instant after 11 PM, I wondered if I could get up the next morning. I did get up and I managed to make three decisions. I decided I had to finish the background essay I had been writing, the last piece we began together, to continue advertising my website at least until I finished my essay and to rebuild my wall. 30

Mom and I worked together in our garden for nine years. In their first creation most of my many retaining walls were loose laid stones. In the last few years, while Mom did what she could with her rake and broom, I recreated some of my walls with footings and mortared stones. Before Mom died I had torn down a wall. The stones were scattered around on the ground like the pieces of my spirit. Still, as 'broken' as I was, I felt I should complete this second, last project I had begun with Mom. I started immediately. The first day I couldn't see the rocks for the tears. However, with each day the tears diminished so that by the time I finished recreating my wall six weeks later, my spirit was whole and I could see clearly. I began a poem about my wall. In a reply to an email a cousin referred to it as my wailing wall; but when I take the time to finish it I will call my poem "Mother's Healing Wall". 31

From on top of my wall I reconsidered the events of the previous 19 months.  My letter campaign seemed more positive when I included Bob Barnett the editor of "Pique", the first person who earns his living writing to say he liked my writing. When I recalled he began adding my web address to my letters I turned over the Jack of Hearts. Mitigating the generally negative Facebook experience were the hundreds of hits to my poems that 'flew' on the wings of eagles. Visitors who came via my index ad read between 2 and 3 entries. At StumbleUpon where a 70% approval is considered the ceiling, ads for "AIG: altogether in greed" and "Age of Asininity" had ratings of 68.9 and 71.4% respectively and some of the 132,000 visitors generated 9,300 free hits. There were hundreds of encouraging comments, notably from ten or so students who said they searched the entire web for a poem to recite to their class and they chose one of mine. Searches and ways of sharing were all greater than none. 32

Although I have not finished the last of what will be 10 "Mother's Poems", I have written several other short poems since completing my wall, the first being "Tears". I have worked diligently on my essay and I can now see its end. With ongoing support from my parents I have continued to advertise my poems index although due to an 8 month funding gap I paused the ad for "Age of Asininity". When the gap closed in April I resumed advertising with StumbleUpon but rather than advertising a single poem I arranged to have my ad open the first page of my "poems" journal which displays 5 poems for the price of one. Since this also means the rating is for all poems, that it has hovered around 68% even after adding my most recent poem about Bin Laden, is encouraging. 33

Because of my ads, searches per week which access my site recently surpassed 100 for the first time and search terms that find my site are now almost invariably in the top 10 of many millions of entries. Often a search skips the search engine page and goes directly to my site. Recently someone's search phrase "beautiful poem in memory of mum" opened "Mother's Wake" and the single word "soar" opened "Eagle's Vision". My time on fb remains minimal although I could not refuse a recent friend request from a charming young woman in Tehran who in comprehendible English said she really liked my poems. Spare time I used to spend on fb I now spend on twitter. I joined a month ago and if I exclude the uptick in visitors who read my eagle poems, I attracted more visitors to my site in the first couple days on twitter than in four months on fb, and none are followers. I have 20 followers, a microscopic number compared to the 1.9 and 10.8 million who follow the Dalai Lama and Lady Gaga respectively but I see potential in twitter. 34

At the end of 2008 I thought publicizing my analysis of life might end when Mom's journey ended and that is what I felt the instant Mom died. In the nearly eleven months since though, I have increasingly felt that Mom's end may have marked the end of infancy in my new life the way walking for the first time without holding her hand, marked the end of my infancy over 6 decades ago. Yes, my analysis gestated for 34 years but the idea for publicizing it on the web was born only 6 years ago, I have advertised it for just 44 months and I have spent less then $50,000. Sharing in all ways remains slightly greater than negligible and I still pay for visits but hitting the 100 searches per month is a hopeful sign of growth in traffic and even the Dalai Lama's and Lady Gaga's numbers began at zero. My analysis is lucid, my vision clear, my questions mute and I can advertise until my end even if it is 30 years hence. 35

Still I remain uncertain beyond completing "The Nutritional Ideal". I am in a different situation than I was when I began analysing life 42 years ago. Then my thought was to have the answer to "What's happening?" ready in case a few desperate students asked me. I have the answer ready but now the desperate world is being pitched to by so many spiritual/religious 'lights', secular leaders, financial experts, gurus, life coaches, motivators, marketeers et al., some old wave some new wave, all claiming they have what everyone is looking for, no one can hear my still small voice saying we each have what we are looking for; and I am not inclined to become involved in the competition to be heard. I am an 'electrician' not a modern purveyor of spiritual patent medicine. I do not have a goal to acquire more twitter followers than Lady Gaga. 36

Yet at same time, this mess of conflicting activity that is our vain attempt to fill the void, though unsuccessful, is taking us all to hell in the same hand basket; and I don't want to go. The only way I can help prevent our further descent toward self-destruction is to turn my 'light' on our common situation with the hope that the majority of us can see what's happening and, if there is still time, reverse our direction by collectively moving toward self-realization. However, it seems the majority of us want to remain completely in the dark, those who follow a particular 'light' do not want its source illuminated while a significant but dwindling number still believe "God is in control". Faced with seemingly impossible odds against being heard and overwhelming resistance, having no authority and being non-competitive, I am unsure if I should keep the light on, continue sniffing out sacred bull or question if there is one, what appears to be God's plan of destruction. 37  

Until I have to decide in several months time I leave speculation to Rob Brezsny the astrology columnist in "Pique". Prior to February 2005 I had never read an astrology column. I knew I was a Capricorn and that I was supposed to be creative, but that was the extent of my awareness. However, when I bought my first computer and was learning to type, I was so oppressed by anxiety, apprehension and doubt about setting up my website, I thought I should research my sign and look for a sign. One of the bits of new information I acquired is that Capricorns in particular are supposed to be very interested in astrology. So out of interest I began reading the column. In the very first one, I read "You are learning to use a new tool that will be useful to you in the future." I wondered. 38

My zodiac highlight involves Judi. I couldn't help notice her appearing in front of me on my writing path a great many times in the past 20 years. The first of a few I'll note was on a tennis court, in 1991. When it seemed I should a year or so later, I invited her to play. She said maybe after her holiday but she didn't come back and I continued on. Judi's most significant appearance was in 1996. I was at the bottom of a deep depression I made in 'reality' when I crashed after a philosophy professor told me the analysis of life I had been working on for 27 years was crap. As I turned into the post office parking lot at 10 AM on a workday a few days later to mail my reply, Judi was standing at the crosswalk. Even after some very serious head banging to knock the notion of an angel out of my mind, from then on I couldn't help wondering about the possibility every time Judi appeared. I climbed for two years to get out of my depression and when I emerged I approached Judi again, looking for some inspiration. Although the dear in the letter I received seemed dead I began rewriting my analysis the next day. 39

Judi appeared in 2001 when my parents and I were struggling mightily at the beginning of our second life together. Another invitation was declined; and I continued on alone with Mom and Dad. In August 2005, on a Thursday, the day the paper is published, when I was still trying to find my way out of the oppressive doubt hanging over my decision to create my website, Judi stood beside me in the grocery store line up and said, "Hey." A few minutes later I read in the astrology column, "You will soon meet your fate bait", an astrological synonym for "angel", I believe. When I encountered Judi a couple days later in the same circumstances I couldn't shake the feeling I should call. After fighting the feeling for a few days I did call but Judi sounded like she was standing in a bucket of ice when she said "Never" was a good time. I was disappointed and felt foolish but relieved. Since I was already living with Mom and would continue to live with my angel for another 5 years, Judi's response simplified what would have complicated an ongoing problem I had convincing Mom that rather than being an anchor restraining me, she was giving me her wings. With her inspiration I continued to write; and Judi didn't disappear. I caught brief glimpses of her in front of me on the path of writing I was following with my mother, many times over the next 5 years, the last being in the post office line up a few days before Christmas 2010. 40

I recall three other astrological predictions. In one written a few years ago Rob wrote, "When 'you' see a glow in the night sky 'you' could think 'you' are looking at a warehouse fire; but my sense is 'you' will be looking at the northern lights." Another was written last fall during the World Series, and the time I was caught in my income gap. He wrote, "I know they are playing for only one cup but I can't shake an image of 'you' with three cups, filled with a golden liquid." At the time I was in the process of selling three shop machines for over $3000 which delayed the excavation in my line of credit. Finally there was the column, also written a few years ago in which Rob associated 'me' with Ray Kroc the founder of McDonald's Corp but added he didn't see a financial connection. Although the thoughts of Mcjobs and hamburgers made me cringe I embraced the thought of 9 billion visits. 41

I don't believe in astrology. However, so many of the blurbs I have read seemed to be written for me, the three open ended predictions continue to fuel the wonder which has been burning in me for most of my life. It began when at 12 years old while talking with my father. I wondered if he had experienced God. During the struggle to find my way through university I prayed, "Teach me about life." but before I graduated I wondered if it was wise to believe, if I ever had believed in God. As the thoughts began to pile up in my mind though, I couldn't help but wonder; and I wonder about the choices I have made which allowed me to record, organize and now publicize what I learned about life. I continue to wonder about God, the stars, angels and what my last two cards will be. I wonder if they will both be jokers. I wonder if I will see the northern lights, receive 9 billion visits and find another primary source of inspiration. 42

June 30 2012

Over the past year I continued to write and run ads for "Age of Asininity" and my "poems index". I wrote a fair number of poems but I spent most of my writing time on my nutritional essay. I am continually amazed it has taken so long to write. I began almost 4 years ago. I am only able to write at my best between 5 and 8 in the morning but still that adds up to a lot of hours over 4 years. I thought I was going to finish about this time last year but I was forced to expand the scope of my essay. I got to the part where I was going to introduce spiritual neuron disease when I imagined my mass of readers asking, "Spiritual neuron disease?" So I decided I had to fit what was always the larger context of my essay into my essay. Minimizing without losing definition is difficult and time consuming. 43

There is no question I won't complete my essay but without Mom, walking my path of writing has become more difficult. While Mom was alive it seemed the only dips I encountered were caused by the up and down motion of my angel's wings. I crashed when Mom died but rather than hitting the ground head first, it was more like I landed on the seat of my pants and skidded to a stop over a year, grazing the tops of any dips. However, when I had to begin walking on my own ever further from the time of the crash, I encountered more and bigger dips of doubt. After 7 years of writing and 4 years, 7 months of advertising, my website is still on life support. Despite the 72% approval of the writing I pay visitors to read, the almost complete lack of unpaid visitors often makes continuing seem increasingly foolish. 44

I was in one of these dips of doubt in August when I received a totally unexpected lift. On a Thursday I read in my horoscope I was about to experience a major event. On Sunday I walked from a parking lot to the farmer's market, a walk Mom and I had taken every summer Sunday for 9 years so we could enjoy the sights, sounds and tastes at the market. It was a walk I couldn't bear to take the rest of the 2010 summer Mom died but a year later I was OK. Anyway, I arrived at a crosswalk at the same time as a white car driven by a woman who attracted my attention. Only after she began to turn onto the road I had just walked along did I realize the woman was Judi. I hadn't glimpsed her since December in the post office and I'd never seen her on market Sunday. 45

The next week I repeated my walk. I was almost at the entrance to the market when, for no reason, I turned around and saw Judi walking with a friend, about 100 feet behind me. My first thought was to call 911 because I was having a heart attack far worse than the 100 or so attacks I had experienced when I took Mom to the Healthcare Center to get her monthly shot. During that time Judi worked there as an administrator so there was no reason to have contact with her but there were many glances over the 9 years Mom lived with me and the mere thought of a chance encounter sent my blood pressure into the red zone. I had to buy a home blood pressure monitor to convince my doctor I didn't need medication. 46

My second thought was to carry on with my usual business so my heart didn't explode and ruin Judi's outing with her friend. I don't know what Judi did but I pretended to shop. As a consequence she passed me a few times and I passed her a few times mainly because I couldn't stand the increased pressure caused by watching her walk in front of me. I was the last to pass and I walked to the end of the mall trying desperately to organize my third thought. Despite the risk to my heart I decided to retrace my walk and if possible, attempt to say, "Hi", just in case "never" was really not the final word Judi wanted me to hear when we last talked briefly in 2005. 47

I did see Judi on the way back and I manoeuvred myself subtly so we'd pass on parallel paths. She had sunglasses on so I don't know if her eyes were open but when we were side by side I think I managed to greet her and ask how she was doing. I don't know for sure because Judi didn't respond. She just kept walking as did I. I walked to the market every Sunday until it closed on Thanksgiving, hoping that on one of my visits I might see Judi again and she would say, "Fine thanks."  It didn't happen but it didn't matter. I was so lifted up by that major event and the weekly anticipation of another encounter, I didn't land again until December 23. 48

I remember because I was wondering about Judi when I 'heard' what my sister Sharon would call "the voice of God" saying, "Search Facebook." The thought seemed generally foolish and the search particularly foolish since I had already searched for her when I was active on Facebook. Nevertheless, having been 'Godsmacked', I checked…and found her on a personal/business page. I noted her career change; I 'liked' her picture, duh; and reflected on a line in her bio. She said, "I  firmly believe things happen for a reason…" I wrote, "I don't 'firmly believe things [and people] happen for a reason…' because the implication boggles my mind, but I do wonder about all the appearances over the past 20 years." Judi didn't respond, again. 49

Some time before Christmas I wrote a letter to the editors of our two papers, the first since Mom died. Both editors published my letter but one responded with a note as Bob Barnett, my "Jack of Hearts", had done when I first began writing letters. At the end of January I sent a poem I wrote honouring the way a local, internationally known skier, Sarah Burke, had lived her life, to both editors. Jennifer Miller, the editor who responded to my pervious letter replied and asked if she could use my poem on a memorial page. A few weeks later I sent Jen a poem I wrote reflecting on the life of Whitney Houston. In her reply Jen said she wouldn't publish my poem because it lacked a local connection but urged me to continue sending her "stuff". So began the occasional exchange of emails. At about this time Judi deleted my entries from her Facebook page. Jen and I exchanged a few notes in March but none in April. 50

In her reply to a note I wrote at the beginning of May Jen told me she was leaving her job on June 29, to travel and teach ESL in Asia with her husband; but said she would like to continue our correspondence. In my brief reply I mentioned the 'traveling' I had done with Mom and Dad at the end of their journeys and left a link to my poem "Regrets, Dad". It was at this time that I began spreading compost on our garden, a job Mom and I did together every year since I created the garden because she wanted to dig the rocks out of our front yard and rake it smooth. I didn't get compost last year because I couldn't bear the thought of digging and spreading it alone. This year I compensated for neglecting her joy and over the next three weeks I filled 212 5 gal. pailfuls and thus spread 7.8 cu yds. of compost on our garden, most of it with two-hand scoops. It was a labour of love. 51

One day while I was filling my pails a white car drove in. A few minutes later I saw Judi enter the office trailer and heard her greet the office manager. An acquaintance since we began getting compost, I learned from pictures on Judi's website the manager was a part time business associate of hers. A short time later they began a tour of the retail area of the yard, a new addition this year. My heart began to race and the rate at which I normally filled buckets accelerated accordingly. When we began getting compost 8 years ago the owner told me to keep a tab and pay when I finished and even though she now had a retail side to her business she again told me to keep my own tab. So fortunately, after I filled my last bucket I was able to drive away without risking a heart attack. 52

On June 1 Jen wrote in her email, "I finally had a few minutes to poke around on your website and I'm impressed…. I used to write poetry.…maybe again." She said she read "Regrets, Dad", found it sad, and wrote briefly about the death of her father. Then Jen asked how I managed to live without working full time. I replied immediately. In her return email on June 21 Jen said she enjoyed my brief story of survival, planned to read "The Last Why: the poem" and gave me her personal email address. I turned over my fourth card, the "Ace of Hearts", to go with Bob, the "Jack", and Mom and Dad, the "Queen" and "King". In my reply I asked if, instead of reading my poem, or at least before she did, she would consider reading the 'philosophical' part of my essay, for a fee, to see if she thought the presentation was coherent. 53

On June 28 I went to the garden center to buy some fertilizer. Judi was there, in the office, talking to her friend. Had she come out and said, "Fine, thanks.",  I imagined I would have tried to say something like, "I didn't think this place could be more beautiful." She didn't, and quite possibly being an old fool, and having  most recently been deleted from her Facebook page, I just  drove away wondering about yet another appearance and my writing. 54