A Pilgrim's Journal

We don't know the exact details of what the upcoming bills will contain until they are tabled, but reviewing Conservative history is probably a good place to start preparation.

Some of the changes may be good, but I am concerned about changes that would allow secret investigations, arrests without charges, and internet communication taps without warrants.

It's probably a good idea to start making sure our internet usage is squeaky clean, free of any pirated media. And how strict will the hate speech laws be? Will it be an actionable offence to twitter an offensive URL?

I don't know. But in the age of the crackdown, it's best to be on the safe side, if possible.

She walked over to the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk. Yawning, she walked toward the bathroom, dropping clothes along the way, grabbed her nightgown from the hook on the back of the door and began to brush her teeth. Tooth brushing was a ritual she never forgot.

She flicked off the lights and smiled as she saw her bed. Ahh, old friend! She collapsed face-first into the soft mattress, flicked off the bedstand lamp, set her alarm for the morning, and snuggled down for a well-earned sleep.

Susan opened her eyes in a dream world. It was a beautiful sunny day, and she was walking along in a circus. There was a path marked out and she was on it, strolling along peacefully as the wind blew through her blond hair. The sun was warming her skin. She felt alive and happy.

As she walked along the path, she noticed there were guard rails along the side. Nothing too sturdy. More like those fluffy line-up guards that you queue in when you go to the theatre. There was lots of excitement on all sides, and there was no opening along the path, so she relaxed and strolled along, watching the others have fun as she enjoyed the day.

The path took a turn and led up to a large white building with a single door in the wall facing her. The rope guards led stright up to the door and were embedded in the wall. It was as if she was meant to go through the door.

She walked up to the door, which had a sign on it that read, "The Husband Machine." How puzzling! How very exciting! Susan knew she wanted to get married someday, but had not yet found the right man. All the men she had known so far had been insufficient in some way. Perhaps it would be fun to try this machine and see what options came out the other side!

She opened the door and stepped in. There were lots of curtains hanging around, and very dim at first. It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the lower light levels. She groped about and found a path through the thick curtains. There were two massively heavy curtains in front of her, but there was an opening where they met. Susan pushed her way through.

She found herself on an old wooden theatre stage. The lights were on and shining on her (not so brightly that she couldn't see the auditorium), and a podium was in the middle of the stage. The curtains closed behind her. There was nobody in the theatre. Rows and rows of seats were before her, all with nice, plush red backs. It was as if the entire place was setup for an audition, and she was on stage!

There was something odd about this auditorium, though. While there were no people in the seats, there were old TV sets and old speakers wedged in the chairs. Some of the speakers were large. Some quite small. One of them even had a red light on the top, although it wasn't turned on.

In addition, it looked like the theatre had just been vacated, with spilled popcorn in the aisles, and old cups in the chair holders.

Susan stepped up to the podium. Instead of a flat surface to place notes, there were lots of dials and controls. As she stepped close to the podium, there was a click in the floor, as if she had stepped on a switch.

Immediately the screens and the speakers came to life. Some of the TV sets were tuned to local news. Some speakers had music playing. Some of them had voices of men speaking, some loudly, some even louder. The speaker with the little red light on top did not make any sound, but the light flashed slowly.

What a cacophony! The sounds blurred together and made her head throb. The TV sets were glaring brightly at her. The speakers were slowly gaining volume, as if trying to gain her attention. She could barely make out the words of anything.

She held her hands over her ears. What a mess! This was too much. She turned back to leave, but found that instead of the curtains, there was a large screen behind her with no doors. On the screen played a fast action square dance, with an instructor teaching the steps.

Susan remembered the podium. The noise was starting to give her a headache. Maybe the podium would let her control this stuff. She walked over and started turning dials. The dials were individual volume controls for each of the speakers and TV's. She turned them all off.

Whew!

With that out of the way, she started to analyze the situation. She turned up one of the speakers, and the voice playing through it said, "Let out your inner actor! Perform a play of your choosing! You're on the stage anyway!" She turned it off.

She turned up a TV set. An announcer was droning on about world events and how politicians were reacting and how some people were protesting and how the markets were failing and how.... She turned that off too.

She searched through the dials, but couldn't find the one for the speaker with the little red flashing light. Finally she pressed the red button. Maybe there was a connection?

The speaker with the little red light crackled to life, and the voice said softly, "The theatre is going to be needed soon, and it's a mess. Please clean it up for me, and then help yourself to some refreshments at the back."

Susan snorted. Yeah, right. She came to the circus to do housework at a theatre? She turned up a different dial.

The new speaker said, "Let out your inner artist! Unplug the screen at the side, and use the paint to paint a mural!"

This sounded like fun. Susan had taken a few art classes in college, and she wasn't half bad. She unplugged the big screen and the square dancing mercifully disappeared. The screen was nice and big and white, and would make a perfect canvas. She knew in the back of her mind that they were expensive, and it might damage the theatre. But hey, the speakers were offering it right? And the paint was right there.

So she picked up some brushes and started painting. It took her a good two hours, but when she was finished, it was a work of art. A beautiful country scene, with cows in a pasture, a rippling brook, a bridge, and a couple kissing on the bridge. It was her best work yet.

She stood back and smiled to herself, looking over the painting. The next visitor to this carnival ride would be impressed!

She turned back to the podium and wondered if there was any entertainment. She was tired after all that creative effort. She could use a break. As she looked out over the auditorium seats, the little red light on the small speaker was flashing faster now.

Hmmm.... that was odd. Susan pressed the red button again.

The speaker crackled to life once again, and the voice said, "We're really going to need that screen for a movie later tonight. Please use the paint thinner on the side to remove the mural, and then clean up the aisles. When you're finished, you can help yourself to the refreshments at the back."

Susan shuddered. This sounded way too sensible and logical, but she couldn't bear to wreck her beautiful mural. Besides, she was exhausted and needed a rest now. Maybe she could clean it up a little later. She did feel somewhat guilty for damaging the screen, but she didn't feel she had to be janitor yet too....

She turned up the volume on a TV showing music videos. Some rock music was blaring, some guy singing, "smash it up." She chuckled, and figured that would do, while she checked out this much-talked-about refreshment stand.

She hummed along to the music, "...don't wanna be a sucker like all the rest..." as she ambled up the auditorium aisles to the back of the theatre. The seats were on an incline, and every seat in the building could see the stage perfectly.

She poured herself a soda, rummaged in the concession stand for a chocolate bar, and picked one of the empty seats. Munching on her chocolate bar, she admired her beautiful mural scene. She could probably sell that, if she could take that screen along with her. Too bad it was stuck in some dive of a theatre. Oh well, them's the breaks.

She tilted her head back and snoozed a bit....

She lifted her head from off the headrest on the theatre chair and heard an odd beeping noise. It was that little speaker with the red light. Now it was beeping!

She left her chocolate bar wrapper on the seat next to her and sprinted down the aisle to the podium. Once she returned to the stage, she could see that the speaker with the little red light was blinking furiously. Almost like a red alert. The beeping had stopped, though.

She wondered how long she'd been snoozing. Maybe the circus grounds were about to close. She took one more glance back at the mural and knew she probably wouldn't have time to clean it up anymore.

She reached to press the red button, but her arm caught against a different dial, and another voice blared out of the booming speaker at the back, saying, "Hey! Save some time and throw those two buckets of white paint on the screen! At least it will be white again for the movie later!"

Hey! Maybe that would work. She really had to be getting back home soon, and she didn't want to waste too much time cleaning this crummy theatre. Plus, what if she only got half way through? Then it would look even worse, no?

She hurried to the side of the stage, found the cans of paint, opened them, and heaved each one sideways at the screen. The screen wobbled and started to swing from the impact of each splash of paint, but soon the screen was white again.

The only problem was that the stage appeared to be tilted, and now the paint was running down the floorboards toward the stage lights. Doh! She looked for something to mop up the paint with, but couldn't find anything but a clean piece of curtain. It was better than nothing. She unfolded the curtain and started to mop up the paint with her shoe on the back of the curtain.

After maybe half an hour, she had stanched the flow of paint, but the curtain was ruined. She didn't know what to do now. But at least the mural was gone.

She heard one more beep. It was that small speaker with the red light, now flashing about as fast as could be, almost looking like a solid light.

She reluctantly pressed the red button.

The little speaker crackled to life again, and the voice said, "You're almost out of time, but if you clean up the popcorn in the aisles, and then use the phone in the concession stand to report the damage you've done to the police, there may be still hope! Please hurry!"

A feeling of dread filled Susan. The police! She hadn't thought of that. She couldn't go to jail, could she? She couldn't! She wouldn't! There had to be a way to avoid that. She ran to the back of the theatre, but could not find any doors. She ran back to the stage, but in order to get out the other door she would have to squeeze past the screen, and she might tear it.

She couldn't wait. There wasn't enough time. She had to get out of this crazy place. She thought thin thoughts and tried to squeeze herself past the screen without ripping it. Yes. Almost. This might work! She was clear! Just one leg to go! In her excitement, she caught her foot on the screen, and heard the tell-tale ripping sound.

Crap! Susan fled to the back, pushing her way through the maze of thick curtains, trying to find that path she used when she came in. With great effort, and after getting turned around a bit in the dark a few times, she found the door.

She gripped the doorknob and burst outside into the sunshine.

The roped off path was gone. Instead, before her stood three men.

To the left was a man from the streets, with torn jeans and a shopping cart containing his worldy possessions. He grinned at her lecherously with a toothless effort, licking his chapped lips. He was holding a microphone.

To the right was a man in a white tuxedo, very handsome, with a sad look on his face. He was also holding a microphone.

In the middle was an elderly man, with his hand on the handsome man's shoulder.

The elderly man spoke. The voice sounded familiar. "It looks like your time is up. While you were in the theatre, you had a number of choices over what you would do. Most of the speakers and TVs were controlled by this man here." He gestured to the street man. "He was free to give you any suggestions he wanted. The speaker with the little red light was controlled by my son. He only spoke when you pressed the red button, inviting him to.

"Each man was given the opportunity to convince you to obey him. The man that you obeyed last would be your husband.

"I am the owner of this theatre, indeed, the owner of the entire park grounds. But it is time to pass it on to my son. He and his wife will run it for years, and enjoy the substantial profits made from it.

"The requests that you heard from my son probably sounded a bit demanding, especially for a stranger. But if you had known that the entire theatre would have been yours (including, in fact, the entire park grounds), perhaps the requests to maintain it would not have been so burdensome."

Susan felt a hand on her arm. It was the street man. He gleefully said, with a raspy voice, "Come with me... I'll show you what you've won!" He laughed.

Susan sat straight up in bed with a start, heart pounding in her chest. What a dream! It was a dream right? Yes, it must have been! She was still in bed in her nightgown. Her teeth were still minty fresh.

She sagged back down on the pillow and pondered the dream. It was rather disturbing. Disturbing because it had a ring of truth to it. She started to wonder: what other dreams was she taking for reality?

They interviewed J.D. His words hit home.

The article reports that at the INSITE supervised-injection site there have been 3000 overdoses, but because the site is supervised, none of them have died. 3000! That's 3000 times that death was cheated, due to a bit of care, human to human.

And yet it seems so sad. Like such a small stab at a solution. It's like the helpless helping the helpless. And I'm helpless too, since I don't know how to help these people. But I'm glad there is a place that will supervise and be there, in case things go wrong.

There seems to me that there are two realities. There is a reality that we see with our physical eyes, and experience with our physical bodies. If we go without food, we get hungry. If we don't wear a thick enough coat, we get cold. If we waste what we have, we end up going without.

There are things that other people do to us as well. Perhaps we get fired and lose our jobs. Or maybe the economy tanks for reasons beyond our control and we get laid off. Or maybe we're being threatened by the schoolyard bully.

These things do happen. I'm not claiming that they don't.

But I think there is another reality as well. One that is not seen. What we see with our natural eyes is often evil, tinged with a little bit of good. What we see with our spiritual eyes is a different reality. We see good separating itself from evil.

For people that cannot see the spiritual reality, the natural reality is all that there is. It is a reality of force, of coercion, of threats, of fear, of loss. A reality of "do unto others before they do unto you."

But for people that do see the spiritual reality, there is an obvious battle going on. All those natural realities are fighting to keep the "good" contained in its own evil mess. Meanwhile, the good is constantly working to separate itself from the evil.

So when the schoolyard bully punches you in the nose, the natural world says, "Punch him back, since that is the only way he'll learn." But the spiritual world shows that the bully is really a servant of evil; and that evil, by using all the tools that it has in its arsenal, is trying to capture you too, through the bully's actions, into its realm of force, coercion, threats, fear, and loss.

And those that refuse to submit to the natural world are seen as being unrealistic. Believing in some utopia. Head in the clouds. Etc.

But the argument of "being realistic" seems to be used, many times, as a way to keep the status quo. By "being realistic" we are avoiding change.

And by avoiding change, we are embracing evil.

"Being realistic" is an argument of fear. For, (so goes the argument) if we don't conform to the natural way of the world, we'll be in dire straights, we'll suffer, we'll experience pain, we'll be abused, we'll be falsely accused, we'll lose our worldly goods and security.

This may be true! But what we don't see is that by clinging to our life in this world of evil, we are ourselves becoming evil, for fear of the threats of evil against us. By not changing, by not separating ourselves from the world, from evil, we are supporting it, and are therefore evil as well.

If in response to evil we use the methods of evil to survive, we become evil ourselves. We then pass that evil on to others, who may also be motivated to use evil methods in response to us.

So the next time you hear the "be realistic" argument, take a moment to consider: is this person encouraging me to be good or evil? Is this person arguing against an idea because it won't work, or because it is not right?

We shouldn't give up on doing the right thing just because it "won't work." In the end, the right thing is the only thing that will last.

And as a note of clarification, since I'm posting this on May 2, I'm talking about a higher level than politics here.