The Night Reality

I was more than just happy to be driving out of Kamloops in the black of night Sabbath 13 of October,2018.

Two ‘musical pieces-videos’ will exemplify how one may perceive escaping all aspects of Populated Driving at Night >    heading for the black solitude of the Coquihalla Highway > . The second presentation is a haunting ethereal melody trying to get you questioning if there is somewhere in the blackness of night a trip something that keeps us alive.

The answer is quite simple. The only thing keeping us alive day or night is the Holy Spirt breathed into you by the Living Father God and Lordship of His only Begotten Son….my Lord Jesus Christ. This can be a very soothing, peaceful knowledge to possess when you are isolated driving through the night on the Road to Glory >

But the music of The Trip as you head toward the Coquihalla Summit also pulls you toward the peak you are trying to head for. You can see and feel it doing so as you look upward above the sliver of light running ahead of you in the darkness and occasional cloud of mist.

The ethereal climbing music, the motor, the tires and most of all the isolating blackness all lead to a sheer relief of becoming more cut off from man through isolation with God. Time will simply stop for me embedded in His awesome Holiness.

I simply do not know how many times I pulled off the road and slept on my way to Hope. I do know however that I never lost contact of the overwhelming presence of God. What I did lose contact with was my ability to discern at times whether I was in what we call ‘awake’ or ‘being asleep’ states of existence.  

Still, within this heightened awareness of His presence you never go off the ‘auto pilot’ of straight physical driving skills and conditions. There is assurance of His safety but an escalated discernment of potential wildlife stepping out of the darkness into your path of travel. You do not want to suddenly be doing the Moose Mambo, break dancing back flip with a Black Bear, the Canadian Cow Can Can or the Furry Fox Flatfoot which all reside amid your potential dancing in the dark partners.

“But, what was that small semi-flat lump I just quickly tire avoiding contact straddled?” Then the lingering aroma in the clinging mist brought to memory the smell of a Muslim freshly returned from the Hajj. >

“Whew, thank God for His protection and assurance that the stink of Islam would not be clinging to His Canada for long, that soon we would be a Muslim Free Zone with Trudeau and his Islamists nothing but a string of dead skunks on the highways from Coast to Coast.”

Oh, Spiritual Reality be it day or night can be a ‘surrealistic state’ hard to encompass for the natural mind. But what is natural about a moon-clear blue black night and rounding a curve to scatter a pack of scabby dogs plaintively howling Alahu Akbarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrk?

Splat! Squash! Squish! SplatSplatSplat!

Had to swerve a bit, but at least I got five of the six of them. Five is the numerical symbol for the Grace of God. Yahoo!

Perhaps train travel next time? Nope. I intend to remain on the Lord’s midnight special travel plans for my life. >

Blinded by The Lights

The occasional approaching traffic disgruntles me, squints me, hurts my eyes and virtually momentarily blinds me at times.

Too often it gets me to cursing man and repenting to God for doing so. The Lord does not want us ‘muttering or needlessly cursing man’. There are times we are to curse man, but this is not one of them.

But, it is usually the approaching traffic from the rear that gets me muttering, cursing man in some manner and then Repenting the Loudest.

I try to justify higher decibel levels due to my perception of the sheer stupidity of too many of the rear approaching drivers. Here we are in the middle of the blackened night, with two lanes travelling onward and the fools will suddenly cut cut back in front of you like they were in high volume city traffic.  There simply is no need to keep the ‘passing lane clear’ for faster drivers as there are zero, zilch, nada.

‘In the blackness it was blatantly obvious there was no one else around except the two of us and this again got me muttering.

Repented Again.  I will never stop doing so until the lights front or rear no longer bother me as I watch out for that small black lump in the middle of the road.

I chuckled, knowing Mr. Cut Back Fast will stink all the way to Hope and perhaps beyond with his two-wheel thoughtless embrace of Islam.

Even momentarily ‘blinded by the lights’ in the blackness of night my Lord gets me to swerve scent free.

Again, Praise you God. Praise you for it all! Your Grace is sufficient for me and it all reminds me of YOU and makes me draw closer to you My FATHER.  >


Tunnel Vision?

The tunnel on the Coquihalla bursts into the blackness and forces you to suddenly concentrate in a different manner. Suddenly you have to deal with bright light narrowness of the two lanes underground making you very sensitive to a parallel vehicle.

Additionally, your hearing is assaulted as the tunnel makes the hurtling steel capsules roar and reverberate off the lining of its rocky-steel- cement intestine.

Tunnel vision is a defect in eye sight in which objects in your peripheral vision cannot be seen properly. To be seen the objects must be close to the center of your field of view.

People use the expression that a person has tunnel vision in both a negative and positive manner. For example, they may claim in a negative sense that a person has tunnel vision if they believe the person has a wrong understanding about a topic and will not budge in it. Tunnel vision to them is negative narrow mindedness.

But tunnel vision can also be used to refer to the ability to be single-minded, able to concentrate fully upon one object or idea. It then is a ‘complete focus’ in a positive sense. Thus, it is very positive to say that a Christian is commanded to have tunnel vision when it comes to following Jesus,

You must focus strongly on your driving skills in the tunnels be they in cities, suburbs or mountains to exit safely. You must also focus strongly on Jesus in this life to exit securely into Eternal Existence with Him. This was obvious at the first burst of the tunnel of roaring light.

You can become part of many Spiritual lessons in driving the Coquihalla through the night.


Still the Same

Satan is an accuser, a voice of condemnation that attempts to convince you that God is not real, that the Lord has not manifested himself through you in a new life of Holiness.

I have found the ‘music of the world’ frequently employed by Satan in attempts to lead me down such a ‘dark garden path’. Such were the sounds of Still the Same >

The lyrics have nothing to do with me.

The song was however reflective of the state of Hope when I arrived at 7:30 am Sunday 14th. The Devil was still trying hard to dissuade me, discourage me as I encountered the same lost critters in McDonalds as when I walked out the door two years past.

The same sad defensive faced hooker with the ridiculous knee-high pirate boots was once again grabbing up coffee for a fast exit. Was she in a hurry to hide from the cluster of familiar faced old men on the other side of the fireplace that did not really fire? Or, was she in a hurry to return to the latest Saturday night romance still smoking in her too many times occupied bed somewhere within walking distance?

And, the old man with the battered blue GM truck and his buddy that was once again delivering some share of the ‘goodies’ he had scored looked dismally occupied with their never-ending Sunday morning date.

Then we had the young man so emaciated, thin and dirty hunkering under his stained hoody grasping his extra-large coffee like it was the hooker’s breasts he could never bum the price of.

They were all there and more that were still in the same condition and position they had been left in.

Why them seemingly changeless and not me Father?

I left with my internet check done and coffee in hand.

I used the Community Recreation Center to sauna, hot tub and shower the trip from Wetaskiwin to Hope from my body, but the journey still remains firmly entrenched in my Spirit and mind.

I spent a few hours writing in the Library, making food at the tail gate of the van, sleeping in the sun heated interior and mulling over the ‘man on the grass’ I had encountered after first leaving McDucks. I still had hope that the Lord would mercifully enact His changes for the ‘spiritual morning-mourning crew’ I had seen once again. Knowing God is merciful I still have Hope in mind. 


Not if you are the man wiped out on Wallace @ 10:40 am Sunday October 14, 2018.

This sight did not seem to fizz the few Oriental Tourists and plenteous pathetic locals out for their ritualistic ‘mutts walks’. Obediently following their leaders to piss points and collecting their shit with ‘plastic wrapped hands’ in singular or dualistic fashions the Canadian ‘dog-tired faces’ were not reflecting any happiness.

The occasional ‘dog encountering dog’ brought tail wagging joy and a round of butt sniffing to the leaders, but did nothing for the followers. There was seldom if any genuine expression of feeling or recognition of any kind for the plastic bagged hands crew. ‘Perhaps they have sniffed one another’s butts one time to often and are now mentally numbed to normal emotional reactions’ I thought to myself. ‘Sure, this is similar to the mental state that too much of Canada is now lodged within surrounding Trudeau and his Muslim bent activities’ I mused as I watched the ‘plastic bags pass by the man on the grass’. He was of less concern to them than dog shit when it comes to their self-image. They certainly wanted and  needed the world to see them picking up dog shit, as being one more of the dead doggy plastic parade from Coast to Coast’ in Canada.

This same group whether in Hope or Hamilton would never stoop so low as to personally stop and pick up the ‘man on the grass’ and help clean up the social mess that has littered our streets. ‘Plastic bags’ have been just too impenetrable, just too numb and too damn selfish for too long not to need a dramatic wake-up call to the reality surrounding them.

‘Well, they certainly are facing a wake-up call now’ I thought.

Then I chuckled to myself and visualized ‘plastic bags’ bending over, scooping up a fresh glob of his Furry Buddy Bob, wincing back erect from the pain of a bad back, pain so intense that in his numbness he wipes his Glob of Bob across his pain laced sweaty brow.

It would be nice to see this being a simultaneous physical action from Coast to Coast I chuckled to myself. But, I guess I will have to settle with wiping the Nation’s face in the shit of Islam that Trudeau has been collecting and wiping all over your lives.

I know our ‘Boy on the Grass’, whether sleeping on it or smoking it, certainly needs a physical and spiritual hand up.

How did he get there? Too long a story for your ‘sound bites mentality’.

Simply try the Johnny Cash explanation of Sunday Morning and then reconsider ‘bending over in the park’ whether it is daylight or dark. >  –

Go on, help the helpless up as best you can and get on the Glory Road with Jesus.



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