We Can’t Vaccinate Our Children

This isn’t a pro or anti vaccination debate blog.  This is simply stating it as it is.

You can’t vaccinate your children.  You have no right to vaccinate your children.  The choice to vaccinate or not is not yours to make.

Only your child can consent to vaccines.

That’s alright though;  right from infancy, your child is obviously capable of making that judgement call for his own health and well being despite the fact that it will inflict some pain onto him.  Children can understand complicated things like that.

According to this concept of bodily autonomy, our jobs as parents are basically done as soon as we give birth in the hospital.  The rest is up to our children.

“There is a concept called body autonomy. Its generally considered a human right. Bodily autonomy means a person has control over who or what uses their body, for what, and for how long. Its why you can’t be forced to donate blood, tissue, or organs. Even if you are dead. Even if you’d save or improve 20 lives. It’s why someone can’t touch you, have sex with you, or use your body in any way without your continuous consent.”

Remember, before you feed Junior or change his diaper to ask his permission.  It’s his choice to sit in a soiled diaper or not.2016-10-25-14-48-19

You do not have any rights to pick up a toddler whose having a  temper tantrum off of a filthy public floor.

You cannot remove a child from any situation she does not permit you to remove her from.  You may as well set up a tent between the splash park and the playground.

You can’t make a child take a timeout or perform any form of discipline without permission from your child, whose consent they could withdraw at any time.

If your daughter refuses to eat anything other than chicken fingers and fries, that’s her right.  You do not need to worry about raising healthy children anymore.  That’s on them from here on out.

You must resist your urge to grab your toddler’s arm to keep him from running into traffic.  They’ll automatically know that it’s not safe.

If little Jane refuses to take her medicine, you can not fool her or force her, even if it will save her life.  It’s her body, her choice.

Junior doesn’t want to go to school anymore?  He doesn’t have to.  Child services and the government will understand that the responsibility for Junior’s education isn’t yours.

If Jane is refusing to go to bed at a decent hour to ensure that she’s getting a healthy and reasonable amount of sleep, she doesn’t have to.  She decides her bedtime.

You no longer have to worry about taking objects away from children.  Let them play with all of the matches, razors, knives, scissors and guns they can get their hands on.  They’ll learn, it’s called natural selection.  You will not be held accountable for their choices.

By being a responsible parent, you are awarding a child less rights to their body than a corpse.

But that’s not all, dear parents…

If you don’t want to give your body at any point and time to your child, you don’t have to.

If you ever feel like breaking the law, remember, the police officers have no right to arrest you against your will.  They still need your consent before arresting you and forcing you to wear handcuffs or putting you in a jail cell.

And remember, if an EMT ever saves your life while you are unconscious and unable to consent to life-saving treatment, you have a case!

If anyone ever tries to prevent you from committing suicide, know that they have no right to take action.2016-10-25-14-49-05

Further along the bodily autonomy statement, it is mentioned:  ” A fetus is equal in this regard because if I need someone else’s body parts to live, they can also legally deny me their use.”

Understandable, however it leads me to just one question…

Who got consent from the fetus, who has his/her own set of DNA, to donate his/her own body to science?


We Should Not Accept Refugees

We should not have baths because we’ll probably drown.  Showers are out too because we will slip and fall, Crack our heads open and die.

We shouldn’t have a child because he could get very sick and die.

We shouldn’t enter into relationships because our partner could end up being  psychotic or abusive.

We should never go camping with friends because one of them might be a serial killer.

We shouldn’t be willing to help a fellow human in desperate need of help because one or two among thousands may be a bad person.

I tell my child to stand up to bullies, even when someone else is under attack which will redirect attention to him and make him a target.  We know that when enough people help the victims and stand up for what’s right, changes can be made.

But that has nothing to do with the refugees, right?

If suddenly a group of radical Canadian terrorists started murdering all Canadian citizens; my friends, my family and destroying my home, I would like to imagine that someone would be willing to help us in the ways that we can’t help ourselves.


Appreciate A Man’s Effort

Several times now I’ve seen an illustration on my news feed of a man who is walking barefoot across the sharp blade of a knife to get to the woman standing peacefully on the handle.  The caption tells you to appreciate a man’s effort since you have no idea what he went through just to keep you happy.

That, my friends, is not a good relationship.  It’s not healthy for the man and it’s not healthy for the woman.

I’ve drawn a couple of my own illustrations on how people should deal with relationship struggles.   20151110_13482820151110_135055

Quite frankly, no person in the relationship should be expected to endure suffering alone, nevermind just to keep his partner happy.


It seems to me that I can write words worthy enough to be read- and felt- by people.1447161967309

Thoughts that keep me up at night, words that twist and multiply within my scattered brain, ideas that haunt me- until I pick up a pen and a stack of papers and let them flow out of me.

My shadows have voices.  My demons feed me a horrid inspiration.  The fears that nip at my heels also smack creative thoughts into my head.  My coldness warms as the words spill out onto paper.

And it seems to me, that my inspiration, my thoughts, my ideas, all spill from my mind as I finally reach the content part of my life.  Without intense emotion, I am no longer able to mold and shape these words anymore.

Perhaps for happiness and security, I’ve needed to sacrifice the talent I needed to use for comfort and coping for so long.

This concept saddens me, but does not depress me; which is and isn’t the problem all the same.


The Quality Of The Stress

Something I like to sit and reflect on every now and then is that I will always worry.  That will never go away.  I will manage differently on different days, but that’s just me coping with it and not actually being free from it.

The quality of the worry is important to stop and look at.

Lets say I’m worrying about what I’m going to make for supper because I forgot to take something out again and I need to whip up something that defrosts easily that the children enjoy eating.  That means I’m not worrying about how I’m going to get food for the children.

Perhaps I’m worried that I’m not good enough at keeping the house clean.  That means I have a home to live in.

As long as I’m worried about things like getting rid of fruit flies, how to get stains out of everything, and if the children are having enough social time with their friends; I know life is great!

Right now I’m overflowing with stress and I couldn’t be happier with the quality of it.

Since my scanner has broken I have no illustration for you, so I will leave a picture of a totally unrelated spider pie here instead.DSC02771

Your Science Cult

You tell me that science and religion cannot exist together and yet you show me that you’ve accepted science as your religion.

You say “I don’t believe in things that I can’t see with my own eyes.” when discussing religion.  Yet you believe in microscopic organisms, atoms, viruses, and black holes even though you don’t see these with your naked eye and likely have not witnessed with your own eyes.  You’ve seen pictures that someone else has presented you with and told you what it is, but you have not seen it for yourself.

You say “I only believe in things that can be proven.”  However, you don’t conduct experiments to prove that particular chemicals cause the exact reactions you want in fireworks.  You don’t isolate and then insert a gene into another living organism and study the results over a period of years.  You don’t meticulously collect, observe, predict, experiment and examine.

I can tell you that if you place an egg in a jar of vinegar the acidic vinegar will dissolve the calcium carbonate of the eggshell and within 48 hours you will be left with an egg held together only by a thin membrane with no shell left and you’ll believe me without question because I’m saying “science!”

You take science as it is unfolded for you and you treat it as though it is-plastic dare I say it- a new bible for you to believe in.

You interpret the word “theory” as if it actually means “fact” instead of accepting that it is merely the best possible explanation that we have at this moment.  You ridicule, slander and criticize anyone who questions or ponders the theory as false or partially false.

…Which is extremely silly considering a person who contemplates a theory’s weakness is much more likely to contribute to a new breakthrough.

You believe and defend to the death that it is as science says and it can be no other way.

If science says that cocaine is good for us and is safe to add to pop or cough syrup and is excellent for treating a wide variety of mental illnesses, you would accept that as true and happily pour it down your throat while preaching about how wonderful it is to others.  When science retracts that opinion and says that it isn’t safe after all, you get outraged at the companies that dared to add the harmful substance to their products and demand that they right their wrongs.

No matter how many times science lies to us, you still eagerly swallow every pill they throw to you like a good little lab rat.  Science said asbestos, lead, smokingsmoking, plastic and an extraordinarily large list of medications and medical procedures were okay and you believed them until they weren’t okay anymore.  Fortunately, lobotomies are not longer procedures you’ll receive for having a mental illness.

Why is it then if a person were to question evolution, stem cell research, medication, preservatives, vaccines, GMOs or anything for that matter- are they discredited, openly mocked and written off as crazy?

Science is supposed to encourage free thought and questions.

The science you believe in without question, in complete faith, is merely a collection of ideas gathered by mankind.

Mankind is the wrong species to put all of your unwavering faith into.  We are quite often greedy, corrupt and will lie to get ahead.

The science you believe in is led by men and women who value monetary gain more than your health and well-being.

The science you trust encourages you to only ask certain questions while bullying you not to ask other questions.  This helps you feel educated while remaining ignorant, leaving you dependent on other people to show us what to eat, how to medicate ourselves and how to get food.

Your science encourages us to become addicted to substances and prefers to treat and react over solve and cure.

The science you shout from the mountain tops poisons and pollutes our world.  It destroys environments and ecosystems and causes detrimental problems on a massive scale.

The science you are so eager to fight for tells us that objects are more important than lives (human or otherwise) and we need to hoard objects to have any sort of value.  it convinces us we’re suffering unless we have more things than we’ll ever actually need in our lifetime.

The science we should all believe in should encourage questions, discussions and exploration.

Real science teaches me not only how a plant grows and puts oxygen into the air, or the parts of a plant and how it utilizes water, soil and sun; it also teaches me the art of growing plants, identifying plants, plant uses, preserving plants, nutritional and medicinal value of plants.

Real science wants you to ask why there are berries growing on the potato plant, what happens when you release a helium balloon into the air, which insects harm certain plants and why we don’t eat dandelions or insects.  It wants us to ponder why plastic doesn’t break down and search for ways to resolve that problem.  It wants us to find ways to clean up  the messes we’ve made.  Real science wants to be discovered.

Real science is beyond animal classification, habitats, anatomy and life cycles.  It is in the making the tools, hunting or raising animals and slaughtering them.  It is knowing how to cut and use the cuts of meat.  It is how to use all parts of the animal efficiently including the skin, fat and bones.

Real science teaches us how to survive and thrive.  How to exist with other people and other species.  It gives us relevant knowledge so we can live on.  It allows us the information we need to make good biological, physical, psychological, and emotional decisions.

It is not about who has the most money or how to make more.Now

It allows us to learn and discover new ways to be entertained, overcome addiction and be creative.

Man’s science is for profit.  It encourages ignorance and destruction.  It turns us into the parasites of the planet.  It shames anyone who asks questions and it mutilates logic.  It only allows select information to be passed on to the common human

I encourage you to stop putting all of your faith into the science that is presented to you and step away from your cult.  Ask questions you never would have asked before.  You will learn so much more useful information when you do.


I am standing here.

I can’t move.  I am immobile, but not solitary.

There are many behind me, beside me and before me.  More than I could ever count.  I see them there.  On occasion we reach out to one another, but for the most part we are alone in the crowds.

We grow.DSCF1853

We gather information, it feeds us and we grow.  We have no limits in how tall and wide we expand.  The more we branch out the more people we touch, and the more we are exposed to, which in turn allows us to learn more.

I’ve stopped growing once…almost.  Slowed so much my vines stopped thriving.  They withered, but never completely shed.  Parts of my life hanging limply in my mind.  I had likely regressed a little.

I’ve seen some around me flourish.  I’ve also seen  many slow to a crawl, or less.  So many start to die from the inside; that death will never go away.  I’ve seen so many start to wither so bad that they just shrivel into the shade of those around them.  So damaged that even if the had the motivation to fight back, they couldn’t even imagine how to against a world abundantly stronger than they are.

I have touched many in an attempt to provide the life-giving hug I once needed so badly and eventually found, only to be stung by them…poisoned by their greediness, and struggled for a while again.

I have seen many only allow themselves to grow in a certain way; reaching straight but long in one direction or forever growing taller but never reaching wide to hardly ever be touched by anyone else.  I’ve seen some that grow with no real direction, sometimeDSCF1574s around in circles, up and down, or over and under.  Or some that just stretch out above the others.

I have seen some wither away into nothingness…

I have seen some drop from existence.  I have seen some die in the embrace of those who loved them, who they loved in return.  Some plowed down, some poisoned, some that chose to rot away.

It is a shame to watch them fall, to witness them wither and die, to feel them pass away and to experience them wasting away.  Sometimes it’s enough to make you want to just stop growing as well.

Sometimes they come back…the twisted dead alive again.  Some remain idle and harmless for a while, but their souls are faded inside of bodies still living.  They are hard to look at and they burn to touch.

They always reach out to touch you.  They touch everything they can and slowly poison you with their embrace.  It is a poison that travels through your and into those that you’re holding; those you love, those you’rDSCF1831e nursing to health and those you’ve just begun knowing.

The weed.

They are always there.  They will die someday…completely, but they do a lot of damage.  They hurt a lot of people and they choose to do it.  Most of them don’t know that and they never will, but they allowed themselves to transform into beasts that squeeze the life out of you and burn you with their uninvited touch.

We do not start out venomous, the level of our poison or our strength that we pass on is up to us.

It is true that the taller we grow, the father we have to fall….

…but the taller we grow, the more time we have to catch ourselves on the way down.


Wasp! Wasp!

“Wasp!  Wasp!”  Electricityboy screeched from the sandbox in so much of a panic that it was hard to understand what he was yelling about.

I came swooping in flailing a flyswatter around chasing the wasp in some pathetic comedic routine, trying hard not to  trip over children who long to be at the center of the chaos.

Mommy to the rescue.  I’m the hero, the destroyer of wasps.

The crisis had been averted.  I could relax.  I sat back down and opened my book and continued writing taking a moment to consider the thoughts I had been thinking before I was interrupted.

Again the excited chorus of “Wasp!  Wasp!” filled the air and Electricityboy was bouncing up and down.

That time was my time.  That was the closest I can get to time where I’m allowed to concentrate.  At that moment I knew nothing inside of the house is being snuck, broken or messed up.  My yard is child-proofed and the children are capable of playing without me needing to hover over them.

That was the time I get to enjoy the warmth of summer before it fades away and I’m knee deep in snow again.  That was the time that I use the outdoors for inspiration and relaxation.

So why was I jumping up every three minutes to swat stinging insects away from my children?  If I’m on wasp watch constantly while we’re outside, when do I get to read or write?

I went to Electricityboy and handed him a flyswatter.  “Here,” I said to him, “you kill them.”

Electricityboy gave me a large grin and took the swatter.

I sat back down but didn’t open my book this time because I was anticipating frustration regarding how difficult it is to hit a wasp, never mind how hard it is to kill one.

Instead, I witnessed just the opposite.  Electricityboy was thrilled to chase the wasps every time they came near him.  The random bouts of screaming ceased.  I was happy to sit down and pick up where I left off.

After a while Electricityboy came up onto the deck holding the flyswatter parallel to the ground full of small rocks and the rear end of a wasp which he proudly dumped onto the table.

His first kill.

And oh- the enthusiastic play by play he shared with us…

“It came at me like this…” He waved his hands imitating the wasp coming near.  “And I swung like this!”  His body and his words reliving the moment this wasp came into view until he brought it onto the deck.  All told with such excitement and energy that I couldn’t help but be as proud of his first kill as he is.Swat

Our wily little wasp hunter.

Eventually as I was reflecting upon this particular circumstance, I came across a personal revelation.

When I was swooping in to save him from his fears, I was setting it up for him to always need to be saved and for me to always be doing the saving.  I was doing what I thought I should be doing and I wasn’t doing it right.

As soon as I handed him the swatter, I gave him a tool to fight his fear and deal with his anxiety.  I empowered him and gave him a chance to have control over his own life.

It’s important to have tools to help you cope with the craziness of life.

Now I just need to find the “flyswatter” for all the other fears and worries my children have.

Unconditional With Limitations

marriageWhen we date someone, we’re searching for the person we want to be with for the rest of our lives.  When we find that person and we marry him or her we promise all of ourselves; Our loyalty, our bodies, our unending love is given deliberately and constantly to another person in exchange for theirs.  As the saying goes- for better or worse, until death do us part.

So why then is there an abundance of divorces and blogs that remind us how we fail our partners and ourselves over and over again?

What conditions do we actually set on our unconditional love?

Can you still love him if he cheats on you?  What if she has a sexual fetish that you find disturbing?  What if he develops an addiction to drugs?  She can’t keep a job?  He lies too much?  She gambles?  He’s a gamer?  She lost interest?

When is it time to say “You’re not trying hard enough.” or “You’re no good for me.” and move on?  If you take the pledge that states that you will love and commit for the rest of your lives, when is it okay to break that promise?

What if we keep loving them throughout their struggles and flaws?  What if instead of pointing fingers, holding grudges and keeping score we learn to love, support and forgive our partners?  What if we accept that he’s going to make mistakes and some of those mistakes are going to hurt you?  If we understand that there are a massive amount of addictive substances that we’re exposed to and she’ll need your help and an incredible amount of patience to pull through.  If we finally understand that “You did….” and “Yeah, well, you did…” are damaging and we would all be much happier with “I’m sorry.” and “I forgive you.”

When I entered into my current relationship, I stripped down to my very soul and put every part of my exposed and flawed self on the table.  I flaunted every strength and weakness, all the pretties and uglies, all of my good, my bad, my silly and my quirks.  I dropped my entire package of amazing and ordinary and let him see all of me.

I trusted him to accept it.  When he did, he promised to love every part of me.  He promised to love me through all of my mistakes and accomplishments.  He promised to do his very best to offer me patience through all of my breakdowns and back me up during confrontations.  He promised to be understanding when I falter and the support I need to get back up again when I fall.
He swore to love me generously, honestly and without limitations.

Likewise, he laid all of his cards on the table and exposed every part of  himself to me.  He presented me with his strengths, hobbies, habits, quirks, weaknesses and desires.  He made every part of himself vulnerable to me.  He trusted me with things he hides from the world.

I took it all and swore to love, cherish, respect and honour him.  I promised to love him unconditionally for as long as we are alive.

What then, when he breaks his promise to me?  What if one intoxicated night he falters and cheats on me?  What if he spends three months hooked on a new video game and he forgets his promise to be there for me?  What if instead of patiently holding me he gets frustrated and yells at me?  What if he becomes addicted to painkillers?

If he wrongs me first, am I free to break my promise to him?

Though some of the examples stated above would hurt me very much and make me angry, rightfully so, I would choose to forgive him.  I would cry in his arms and comfort him as he cried.  I would wait for him to remember what he’s promised me, even if it takes longer than three months.  I would hold him, love him, and remember that he’s human and even the best of our species makes mistakes.  I would love him through his addiction and nurture him through his withdrawal.

My love and understanding is the best gift I could ever give to him.

Someday, I’ll forget my promise to him.  Not on purpose, but I will slip up.  Someday I won’t be able to communicate properly.  I’ll be caught up inside my head in a way that I can’t quite function properly in the real world and I’ll neglect him.  I could be the one going through withdrawal or having an emotional breakdown.

I’ll need someone who will love me enough to stand by me instead of walking away because I was not meeting his needs.

I suppose that’s terrifying and appalling to some people.  He could very easily destroy my life if I’m offering him that much love and trust.  Not only that, but I’m giving him a free pass to behave like a jerk and expecting a free pass in return…right?

Except that assumes that he’s trying to hurt me instead of love me, and that I would prefer to hurt him rather than love and support him.

If you hold back out of fear, you have already doomed your relationship.  If you put restrictions on your love, you should not promise yourself to someone forever.

If you can’t love with everything you have and forgive the way you need someone to forgive you, you’re not ready for marriage.

If you can’t trust that he will love you through thick and thin and forgive you endlessly, every single time it’s needed then you shouldn’t marry him.

It is very sad in this day and age that we are more loving and supportive towards everyone except the person we’ve promised our hearts to.

Love without limitations and without borders.  There aren’t arguments to be won, but compromises to be made and other perspectives to consider.  There is no need to keep score because you’re both on the same team.  Forgive and accept forgiveness.

That is the only way to keep your marriage alive.

Parade Behind The Hedges

One day as I sat in my yard I noticed sounds of excitement and enthusiasm on the other side of the hedges.  I had heard these noises before and I had never really questioned them.  They were just background noises.

But on that day, I suddenly needed to know about it.Parade over hedges

I stood on my tip-toes and held my chin up high, trying to peer past the physical limits of my yard, but I couldn’t.  The wall of bushes in front of me was both tall and full all around so I couldn’t see through it or over it.

I spied a staircase nearby and joy swelled in me.  That would help pick me up higher so I could see over the hedges.

I approached the stairs and stepped on the bottom step, but I still couldn’t see the show.  I went up one more, and my view opened up a little more.  I went up yet another step and another until I was just a face in the crowd standing on the stairs to enjoy the parade on the other side of the hedges.  There I stood, and watched.

I watched the most colourful, musical and creative things unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.  My mind exploded with thoughts and ideas I never knew existed.  The painted jugglers juggled, the cheerleaders practically floated through the air and the dancers pranced poetically.Parade

I became so thrilled, so excited from the energy that I couldn’t resist cheering and jumping.

Because I lost control of myself, gravity took over and pulled my body down all of the stairs and left me a bruised lump at the bottom.

I understood immediately that I did something stupid and I had no intention of repeating it.  The next time I stood on the stairs, I would have better self control.

So I rested up and recovered, and then I climbed right back up again eager to glance at a magical line up of slowly progressing entertainment again.

This time I was very careful.  I deliberately stood very still on the staircase which took a large amount of concentration.  It worked too… until a tiny car caught my eye sputtering along at a snail’s pace that one…two…three…no four full grown clowns jumped out of and danced around in a comedic show.

The excitement swellefallend in my brain as they danced and flipped around the tiny automobile and it overwhelmed my senses.  I didn’t even realize I was bouncing up and down again.

I had lost control again and I tumbled to the ground once more.

I tended to my scrapes and bruises, I stopped my wounds bleeding, all with my mind needing to know what was happening while I couldn’t see.  I had to get back up the steps again.

That was how it began.

I would climb the stairs vowing to be smarter and better.  I’d lose myself in the thrill and I’d fall down and need to heal.

I would get high, crash and then recover.

It didn’t take me long to sense the insane pattern.  Still I couldn’t resist.  Whenever I wasn’t on the staircase staring at  a world full of wonder and musical folly, I longed to be and it consumed my mind.

Eventually I grew weary of it all.  The same parade just kept wandering by and I was doomed to spend my life crawling up the stairs, jumping, and falling down and I was helpless to stop it.

I dreamed of the days before I even realized that there was something on the other side of the hedges.  I never felt as if I needed it then, and I didn’t miss it or want it at all.

The longer I spend going up and falling down, the more I felt like an idiot.  I had no self control, no pride, and no hope.  I just kept letting myself down time and time again.

Today I took a few moments to stop obsessing about the high that lets me see farther than I’m supposed to see and looked around at the people surrounding me.

I saw people who were equally as fixated on peering over the hedges.

I saw people climbing trees, sitting on branches too small to support their weight.  I saw people crowding too many on the branches, people kicking other people off of the tree and others grabbing someone else’s leg that’s higher and pulling them down to make room for themselves.  I saw people climbing higladderh only to fall down and get hurt.

I saw people leaning ladders against anything they could find and I watched others scurry to follow the first man up the ladder only to collapse into a huddled clump  of angry, hurt people.

I saw trampolines, Pogo sticks and stilts.  Anything to help people rise up and see over the hedges.

I watched people go  up and crash back down again.  I watched people get hurt, break down and cry and I witnessed people hating themselves.

Today I realized that this wasn’t happiness and that there are a lot of people who are unhappy just like me.  Today I realized that this is a vicious cycle that’s leaving us all feeling desperate, helpless and hopeless and it holds no benefit to any of us.

Yet I hang my head in shame and ascended the staircase once again because I don’t know how to stop.

That is what addiction is.