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In Buddhist Hell
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1737
A lesser known tradition of Buddhism - lesser known to the students of the "New Age" movement who all profess themselves Buddhas on the path to enlightenment, well known to the Chinese - is that of the Buddhist Hell.
It holds that the afterworld is much like the world we live in now, and to that end Chinese Buddhists will buy their departed ancestors and loved ones
"Hell Money", little totemic sheets of currency or papers with gold bars to burn on alters; this money, it is believed, will serve the dead in the Bureaucracy of hell. Hell, it would seem, is filled with government officials and petty diplomats that must be bribed...
To the Chinese, Hell is Bureaucracy.
Funny, the New Agers never bring up this interpretation of Buddhism, it's all sunshine and roses and the presumption of enlightenment. The Chinese are infinitely more practical and wise...
The Accident, my first proper accident, the logs off the logging truck crushing my jeep, it's got me wondering if I haven't actually died and ended up in Hell...
The whole day, the grey skies, the sun, a pale shadow of itself, the horizons in all directions vanishing into grey, and then the accident, standing in the middle of a highway wondering WTF just happened, dust and smoke raining down upon me, the highway strewn with logs, sawdust, the catching up to the truck driver, the insanity of his not knowing what had happened, the short but slow drive to the ferry, sagging windshield crumbling glass onto my lap, the ferry ride, life as a metaphor for death...
It's all a little surreal, like "Carnival of Souls", wherein the girl is dead and doesn't know it and keeps meeting other dead people, the general discombobulation, puzzling, ...
The smoke is still here and it's time to deal with the bureaucracy.
Monday I go to the Nelson Police Department to report the accident. They sympathize briefly before referring me to the RCMP. The Nelson RCMP, the receptionist there tells me I should file my report with the Wynndel Detachment - an hour and a half away, but upon slight pressing agree to file my report there and fax it over.
With my case number I go to the AMA website and file my Insurance claim. I've only got PLPD, but this is pretty clearly not my fault, and I expect that ICBC will be paying to restore (not, it's irreparable, there's frame damage, roof, windshield, bumper...) or replace. The AMA webform, upon declaring my submission a success, warns me of a 1 or 2 day SLA, (Service Level Agreement), I can expect to hear from an adjustor or agent then.
That evening I miss a call:
That evening, a call from a Private Number, a phone message, I return the call. Constable ***** at the Wynndel RCMP detachment asking me for details as to the accident, I'm a witness, and to return his call at the number above. Funny he would call me from a private number, but it makes sense later on...
I call him as soon as I get the message. See above. 9 minutes later. The receptionist informs me that he's off for the day, and they don't have a schedule but he might be working tomorrow if I'd be so kind as to return it then...
The next day I call the number again. They tell me that Constable ***** is based out of Creston, and give me a number there. I call the new number.
The Creston RCMP advise me that Constable ***** is retired.
My patience has limits. I explain to them why I'm calling, that I'm returning a call about a log spill on the 3A, that I'm both witness and victim, that Constable ***** called ME, I give them my case number...
They apologize, profusely, and then refer me back to the Wynndel RCMP.
I call them back.
Now the receptionist is irate. "What do you Want?!! WHAT DO YOU WANT!!!" she asks me, demands of me, she's pissed off, I'm tipping her chair, I know the feeling, she was getting up for more coffee, updating her Facebook, and I'm the fly that keeps irritating her...
I explain that I'm returning a call by Constable *****, and that maybe she can take my statement, but she doesn't want to, too busy, and she arranges that someone else will be calling me.
Tuesday afternoon (not the Moody Blues, sorry) another call from a Private Number. This is all ripe, overripe, for Terry Gilliam styled comedy and interpretation, 27/B forms, a different Constable (and why can't anybody ever just call them back?), and I give him my version of events, statement, all news to him, apparently the logging truck driver failed to mention there was a witness/victim/other party to this escapade, and the plot thickens.
Meanwhile it's Tuesday, no call from Insurance, and then it's Wednesday, no call, and Thursday and I'm growing impatient and wondering WTF and so call them, AMA Insurance if you're wondering, and they tell me they've got the claim and that "Deb" is working on it...
I've talked to friends, relatives, fender benders, small rear-end collisions with no damage, that called their agents and were called back before they got home, 10 minutes later, in their own hometown, me, I'm out of province, "On Vacation", no vehicle, and I've got nothing...
Friday now and they still haven't called, I've no emails, contacts, nothing. Maybe I've died? In any event, the Chinese were right, Bureaucracy is Hell.
Verbal Garbage
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1604
And, of late, I've noticed that my conversation has become cluttered with verbal garbage. It's a habit that annoys me when I hear it in other people, and so when I noticed it in myself it took me a bit by surprise, phrases like "Like..." and "You know what I mean", that creep in, the soliciting of agreement, or presumption that people are on the same page, there's no excuse, no forgiving it, and I have to take a few steps back, breathe, and get into the habit of thinking and pausing before I speak. Or maybe I should stop speaking altogether, I've pretty much said it all by now anyways...
The End of Days
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1587
First proper day off in a while - by proper I mean day in which I can go off and about my own errands. Up early, coffee, wait for the sunrise, but the sun isn't rising, it's obscured by smoke, not a glimmer even, merely a uniform grey haze...
I set off...Nelson, write a couple of postcards, then to Salmo, the smoke, so thick you can smell it, everywhere the campfire smell, stop in Salmo, Firefly cafe, filled with refugees abandoning their vacations, I get a text from work, their hours are changing, business, these last few days, has driven over a cliff, and driving over the pass you can see - or not see - why....
Firecrews with their hoses and tubs of water set up on the shoulder, the road vanishing into the distance...
Up logging roads, I run into a couple of conservation officers, sidearms, kevlar vests, WTF? If ever there was anywhere that should be safe from police you'd think this was it...I was wrong.
Check a few places, but it's not a hot day for it, and everywhere there are hornets, buzzing, not as the drone of a single one, but as a hive, hundreds, swarming you, crawling up your sleeves, this is a dismal day...
The sun, out, barely, and disappearing, and out, and disappearing...
Then, finally, towards, Creston, then back towards the ferry. 9:00 PM, following a logging truck up the 3A, maybe 20 KM past Wynndel, the taillights blink around a corner, following them around I run into an impenetrable cloud of dust, brake, smoke, BAM!...
Getting out, the jeep at a standstill, dust still settling, logs all over the road, one through my passenger window, crushed my roof, looking for a sign of the truck off the road, did it overturn? Then, through the dust, the lights of the logging truck disappearing around another bend, back into my jeep, still runs, following it, blinking my headlights, trying to get his attention, about 6 KM up the road he finally pulls over, he's 2 trailers, the back one has tipped, lost it's load, completely...
He gets out, I show him my jeep, point to the rear trailer, it's sitting all off kilter, he doesn't get it, thought he blew a tire...
It's toast. I get his details, drive up to the Ferry, make the last one, get more than a few looks from the crew when boarding...
The alternative, wait for the police, tow to Creston, unload jeep, spend the night, source out a ride back towards Balfour, there's no alternative, now to deal with ICBC and see how they cover this, no sooner than I rave about something good - my 'ole jeep, than the Gods punish my attachment, the bumper, the hood, the roof and windshield, all crushed, but god-damn, the thing still runs, and if I could just punch out the windscreen I'd keep it as is but cops are cops and this is the proof, the last of signs telling me these are the end of days...
Who Wantz an X-Ray?
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Found
- Hits: 1188
Found this by the side of the road, in a "Free" Pile, it's rife with re-purposing possibilities...
Before I re-purpose it though I should probably try it out a bit first...I mean, look, it goes to 11! Past 11, to 12!! Imagine the superpowers I could possess, (if I don't already, carrying the thing to my jeep, weighs a ton, must be all the enriched Uranium or Plutonium); oh, boy, there will be some fun had here...
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