Monday, May 5, 2025

Blog No. 243 – Rebirth: How I Am Making Myself Come Alive Again, Part 4 – 5 May 2025

 Blog 241 finished with extracts from my diary for Saturday 26 April 2025, the day I went to Sydney and attended a concert by Hans Zimmer.



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My friend Juan Acosta is talented in so many areas, and his work leaves me breathless.  He told me once that he was taught how to paint by a homeless man in his original home, Venezuela.  The homeless man must, like Juan, have been astonishingly talented - and kind.  Although he had no home of his own, he still found the energy to teach my friend how to pain.  

Juan has given me permission to publish this photo.  I again remind readers that my photo and the painting itself are covered by copyright and readers do NOT have permission to copy them without prior permission.

I interpret this painting as also revealing the total magic of the process of birth and rebirth.  The sun is a diamond and it radiates light and life throughout the universe.  Thank you my friend for letting me use your work in my blogs.  

Although every one of us is walking wounded, the universe does not want us to stay this way forever.  You very definitely matter, and without you, the world cannot continue to exist and it cannot heal.  

Let us heal ourselves and the universe in which we live.

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11.40 am Sunday 27 April 2025 – Rebirth Day 8

Sunday is officially the first day of the week, so I have now officially been reborn for one complete week.

Day 7 of my rebirth finished with a tumultuous concert celebrating God’s creation of the universe through sound.

The Hans Zimmer concert started with complete silence interrupted occasionally by almost unnoticeable sounds.  The unnoticeable sounds somehow joined together and formed a coherent noisy structure … and the structure became the universe in miniature, complete with the explosive noise of stars as they became supernovas. When the supernova explosions had finished, back we were with silence, but somehow, now the silence had physical structure.

Music is sound and sound is surely one of the instruments used by the creator to bring the universe into existence.

God yawns and makes a yawning noise … and we humans acquire structure and substance.

Or maybe I have it all wrong.  Perhaps God makes a yawning noise and the universe is filled with nothing except the sound of God yawning.

If God could be bothered trying to explain, I probably would not be able to understand the explanation anyway.  How can I understand God when I am not God?  I might as well ask an ant what it thinks I am.  I would be wasting my energy on the stupid and impossible.

In zombie movies, the plots revolve around humans trying to exist in a world filled with the dead who are dead … but not quite dead.

Here is a question.

Is not being dead the same thing as being alive?

This is my answer.

To be alive, you have to be alive.  Simply being a not quite dead corpse (or zombie) does not mean you are alive.

Since Margaret’s death, I have been an animated corpse – breathing, walking, talking and going through the motions of being alive – but I have not really been alive.  The spark that kept me alive was Margaret.  Deprived of the Margaret spark, I have been a zombie.

I have not been dead, but I have not been alive either.

I am reminded of graffiti painted on a fence I used to see as I travelled by train to Flinders Street Station in Melbourne.  The graffiti said “Is unbeing dead being alive?”  I can easily answer the graffiti question.  Unbeing dead is definitely not the same thing as being alive.

Now though, I am doing something that never happens in zombie movies.

I have become a zombie who has breathed life back into himself.  The undead has become reborn and I am now exactly one week old.

We can all be reborn.  We can all do this impossible feat.

Join me.

Walk away from your sorrow.

Look at the rain drizzling down outside the window and see what it truly is.

Before rain can fall, part of the universe must die.

When part of the universe dies, it evaporates into the sky.

In the sky, the evaporation becomes rain.

The rain renews life on Earth and the cycle of life is renewed once more.

Life renews itself.

We can all walk away from the shadow lands.

We can all be reborn.

Let us all be reborn together.

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My next diary entry sets out some of the tools I have used to help me survive what has happened to me.  Some of those tools may also help you in your own voyage of rebirth.  I most certainly hope so.  You will need to try them and see whether they help you or not.

With much love.






Sunday, May 4, 2025

Blog 242 – Rebirth: How I Am Making Myself Come Alive Again, Part 3 – 4 May 2025

Blog 241 finished with extracts from my diary for the Friday, 25th of April 2025, when I took part in the Anzac Day march in Albury.

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Yet another photo of a wonderful painting by my talented friend Juan Acosta.  Yet again, Juan has given me permission to publish this photo.  I remind readers that my photo and the painting itself are covered by copyright and readers do NOT have permission to copy them without prior permission.

I interpret this painting as revealing rebirth in space.  Look closely, eagles can fly in space even though there is no air to help their wings.  Hands of love envelop the Earth and flowers grow easily in this version of space.  Although every one of us is walking wounded, the universe does not require us to stay this way forever.  We are needed.  Without us the world cannot heal.  Take my hand so we can learn how to heal ourselves, and the world we live in.

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12.15 pm Saturday 26 April 2025 – Rebirth Day 7

I leave for Sydney this afternoon.  I travel straight from the airport to a Hans Zimmer concert.  Hans has composed music for movies such as Interstellar.  His music is mostly orchestral and one label that could be applied to some of his music is Space Music.

I have heard plenty of Space Music before, but it often carries different labels.

I have collected music all my life and I give my own labels to the music I collect.

One label I use is Space Music – and Hans Zimmer fits nicely into this label.

Another label I use is Angel Music.  

One example of Angel Music is Peter Sterling.  Peter was walking one day and had a vision of many angels playing music.  Soon after this, Peter walked into a second hand shop where he found a harp for sale.  Peter bought the harp even though he had never played the harp before.  Six months later, Peter had taught himself how to play the harp and released an album of wonderful music called (naturally enough) Harp Music.

To me, Peter’s gorgeous harp music sound very much like Space Music.

An Angel Music album called Endless Light by Erik Berglund also sounds like Space Music.

I have a different music category for music albums I group under the label Near Death Experience Music.

Steve Roach nearly died in a motor bike accident.  His three disc album Structures from Silence reproduces as best he was able, the sounds he heard while he hovered just on the other side of life.

Structures from Silence is eerily similar (to me) to the albums I group under Space Music and it reminds me in many ways of the music of Hans Zimmer.

So, on Day 7 after my rebirth, I will hear Space Music that is also Near Death Experience Music and Space Music that is also Angel Music.

I know Margaret definitely died.  

I was there.  

In 2018, during my open heart surgery, I was offered the opportunity to die.  I rejected that opportunity because somehow, I knew Margaret would need my help very soon.

From July 2020, when Margaret was diagnosed with untreatable cancer, until mid July 2021, my body kept insisting that it had the right to die – but I would not let it do this.  

Because Margaret needed me, death had to wait.

From July 2021 until August 2023, I forced myself not to die because Margaret needed me so very much.

From the day of Margaret’s death until Sunday 20 April 2025, I so much wanted to die but permission to do this was flatly refused.  I wanted to die but was unable.

Now on 26 April 2025, I have been reborn and I am 7 days old in this reborn format.

I don't really want to be here at all, but I accept that a power greater than me wants me to start again.  So, start again, I will.

I accept the task that has been given to me, whatever it is.  I can and I will do the impossible.  I will create a life of beauty and meaning to replace the beauty and meaning that has been torn away from me.

I have this message for every one of you who has lost everything that ever meant anything to you.

You too can be reborn.

One day at a time, one step at a time, let us recreate life.  Let us recreate hope and meaning in the waste land that is currently a land of shadows and complete ruin.

If we help each other, we can all heal together.

Rebirth is for every one of us.  This is especially the case for those who, like me, have been lost for such a very long time.







Saturday, May 3, 2025

Blog 241 – Rebirth: How I Am Making Myself Come Alive Again, Part 2 – 3 May 2025


Blog 240 finished with extracts from my diary for Thursday the 24th of April 2025, when I began the process of my own rebirth after Margaret’s death and the aftermath of it.




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This too is a photo I took of a wonderful painting by my extraordinarily talented friend Juan Acosta.  Once again, Juan has given me permission to publish this photo in this Blog.  My photo and the painting itself are covered by copyright and readers do NOT have permission to copy them without prior permission.

I interpret this painting as revealing the growth that happens when life unexpectedly renews itself and is reborn.  Together, let us learn how to regrow and start a new life.  We are all walking wounded at this moment, but we do not have to stay that way.

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9.35 pm Friday 25 April 2025 – Rebirth Day 6

Day 6 of my rebirth is a day for remembering.  It is Anzac Day, the day when Australia remembers those who sacrificed themselves to create a better future for all of us.

I marched in the Albury Anzac Day march and for the first time ever, my thoughts are not continuously with Margaret.  I wear replica medals of those I specifically want to remember.  I am at the back of the march with my granddaughter, for we have not fought in any wars.  I am the descendent of a hero and the father of a hero.  I am the nephew of three uncles who were heroes.

Dad joined the Royal Air force in 1949 after the British Army refused to permit him to join up as a soldier in the war against Hitler.  Dad was a skilled tradesman and the government decided that tradesmen were not allowed to become soldiers.  The Royal Air Force did not officially permit dad to become a combatant either, but it desperately needed tradesmen so it allowed dad to join up.  Dad’s main job was to make sure that the planes in Bomber Command were able to fly despite all of the holes in them from German artillery.  Sometimes he had to hose the blood of his colleagues out of the planes before he could repair them.

Dad’s duties were not confined to what the RAF called ground crew.  By late 1943, 25% of all those who took part in a Bomber Command mission against Germany, never made it home.  Many of them were dad’s friends.  They were not simply statistics in an accounting spreadsheet.  In 1943, Dad's Bomber Command unit asked for ground crew members to volunteer to serve as aircrew as well as ground crew.  Dad responded to this act of self cannibalism by Bomber Command - if the people who repaired the planes never returned from a mission, there would eventually be no one left to repair the planes at all – by volunteering to be trained as an air crew member.  So, dad flew in the planes that he had to repair.  And somehow, dad survived the war, and received three different service medals.

Dad was a hero and he told me nothing.

When WW 2 started, uncle Bill was a barber in Liverpool.  He too joined the Royal Air Force and helped man the giant ballons that were hung over Bermingham to make it harder for the Nazis to murder the people of England.  Uncle Bill also earned his medals.

Uncle Bill was also a hero and he too told me nothing.  Mind you, he stayed in England while we went to the far side of the Moon – a place called Australia.  That made it hard for uncle Bill to tell me anything.

Uncle Eric was a child when the Nazis tried to destroy Liverpool in the Liverpool Blitz.  Liverpool was the major port giving entry to the supplies that kept the United Kingdom alive – so the Nazis desperately wanted to flatten it.  As well as enduring the constant bombing, Eric was a messenger while still a boy.  His job was to deliver messages from first responders trying to deal with the results of the Nazi bombs.  The first responders were desperately trying to save the lives of those whose home had been flattened by the Nazis.  By running through the rubble, to deliver the messages, uncle Eric saved many lives.

When he was older, Eric served on the ship SS Uganda in the Falklands War.  The Uganda was a hospital ship and Eric tended to the wounded in hat war.

Eric was a hero and although he told me some things, he told me only what he felt able to tell me.  Eric earned his medals.

Uncle Stan’s story is probably the saddest of the stories of the services given by my family to help make this world a better place.

Uncle Stan was only 17 years old when he was a merchant seaman on the Rangitane.  The Rangitane was sunk by the Germans and somehow, Stan survived when others died.  Stan turned 18 while he was a prisoner of war on board the German ship that had destroyed his own ship.  Stan was made to sign a piece of paper saying he would never engage in military activity against Germany and he was released onto the island of Emirau, now part of Papua New Guinea.

After getting home to Liverpool on a ship called the Ceramic, Stan served on the ships in the Arctic convoys taking supplies to Russia.

One of the Arctic convoys was particularly notorious.  It was given the number PQ 17.  When it left port for Russia, there were 35 ships in PQ 17.  Out of the 35 ships, 23 were sunk by the Nazis and 153 merchant seamen killed.  Of the British ships in PQ 17, only 2 survived and one of the two was Empire Tide.  Uncle Stan was serving on the Empire Tide.

Uncle Stan was a hero who told me nothing.  I met Stan twice when his ships came to Melbourne.  Uncle Stan earned his medals but he could never forget what he had seen.  Stan drowned himself in booze but the memories never left him.  He died in despair.

I lost Margaret to cancer.

I am not a hero, but I have a chance that dad and his brothers never had.

By marching on Anzac Day, I was able to honour my son who served with the Australian Army in Iraq.

I can help my son’s rebirth and I can strengthen my own rebirth.

By marching on Anzac Day, I was able to show my granddaughter that her father is a hero and that he earned his medals.

My son cannot really tell me his stories either.

Rebirth is hard but we must all try and do it.

Death should never be seen as final

Death is only the doorway to rebirth and new hope.

We must never forget that the world is full of heroes.

Everyone who reads this blog is a hero.

God bless you.







Friday, May 2, 2025

Blog 240 – Rebirth: How I Am Making Myself Come Alive Again – 2 May 2025


Blog 238 finished with extracts from my diary for Sunday the 16th of July 2023.  This Blog continues my diary entries, but from Thursday 24 April 2025, when I had begun to engage in the process of my own rebirth after the harrowing tragedy of Margaret’s death and the aftermath of it.




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This is a photo I took of a wonderful painting by my extraordinarily talented friend Juan Acosta.  Juan has given me permission to publish this photo in this Blog.  My photo and the painting itself are covered by copyright and readers do NOT have permission to copy them without prior permission.

I interpret the painting as revealing a butterfly testing its wings after a near fatal collision with the ground.  Like the butterfly, I am teaching myself how to fly again.  Join me on this new journey.  We are all walking wounded, but at least we are still walking!

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2.30 pm Thursday 24 April 2025 – Rebirth Day 5

I will date the start of my rebirth to last Sunday, Easter Sunday 20 April 2025.  If Christ could come back from the dead, so can I.

In the months before her death, Margaret and I talked about the need for me to keep living after she had died.  She made it clear, I was not allowed to just go through the motions of living.  I had to live again, love again and yet again give a genuine meaning to my life even though she was dead.  I promised I would continue living after she was gone.

Moments before Margaret flat lined in hospital, I hugged her through the tubes.  I told her I loved her, that it was okay for her to leave me and that I would be okay after she had died.

I have tried very hard to keep the solemn promise I made to Margaret moments before she left me – but it has been very hard.

What I now know is that the cancer ghosting has never stopped.  Our former friends have continued to reject me.  Margaret’s brother Jim, sister Maurine and nephew Jameson have refused to speak to me since 23 November 2023.  This is when Margaret’s most valuable jewellery acquired over a lifetime of thrift, vanished.  I believe the jewellery was stolen by her brother Jim Redden.

Every attempt I have made to reach out to the people we used to know, has failed.  People are still afraid of me.  Terrible things have happened to me and they obviously are afraid to come anywhere near me.  They fear they might catch the curse of terrible fortune that has infected me.

Margaret’s sole surviving friend Cheryl joined the cancer ghosting in January 2024.  At my specific demand – and only at my specific demand – she finally returned Margaret’s wedding dress and I have heard nothing from her since then.

My sole direct link to someone who knew Margaret is now Dave.  I offered him the spare bedroom after Margaret died and he then left the boarding house where he had been living.  Dave somehow beat oesophageal cancer, then he beat lung cancer.  Now he is battling a cancer in his neck which has wrapped itself around his carotid artery.  Dave is remarkably brave, but his continued life is doubtful.  Medically, the officially diagnosis is that he is stage 5 Palliative Care.  There is no stage 6.

I got the blues very badly on 29 March 2025 while I was on a meditation retreat.  On Saturday 29 March, Margaret would have had her 75th birthday.

I have been sustained by my son, my daughter in law, my two grandchildren and by two very kind hearted strangers called Kristian and Bronwyn.  Yesterday afternoon Bronwyn encouraged me by zoom to work out my mission in life and the practical steps I need if I am to get there.  She stressed the need for me to stop reliving the haunted memories from those dreadful days leading up to Margaret’s death.

I know Bronwyn is correct.  To keep the promise that I will be okay, I must learn to remember Margaret but put aside all of the pain.  I must create new structures around my life.  I must show myself and others that crippling sorrow can be survived and that every one of us is able to live again, able to live joyously, even though we have spent years wandering through the lands of sorrow.

I cannot alter what has happened.

I can alter how I treat those events in my own mind.

I was granted 25 years filled with love.  Those years have ended, but the love has never left me.

I must honour the love Margaret and I shared by accepting that it is now over.

If I still want to love Margaret, I must accept that the love we shared, ended when she died.

With tears in my heart, I accept Margaret and I as a couple are now only a memory.

I swallow every bit of the sorrow and I will oversee my own rebirth.

Thank you Bronwyn for your wisdom and kindness.  I will continue to swallow the multiple sh*t sandwiches and show others who are in pain that rebirth is possible.

My rebirth journey is now 5 days old.



Thursday, May 1, 2025

239 A Resurrection Story – Dying the Hard Way, Part 10 - 1 May 2025

Blog 238 finished with extracts from my diary entries for Friday the 14th of July 2023.  This Blog continues my diary entries from the point where Blog 238 finished.  

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Friday 14 July 2023

Blog 238’s diary entry finishes this way.

[Margaret rings me at 3.33 while I am walking.  The Calvary doctor has spoken to Dr Bishnoi.  The cancer should be stable and what Margaret has been going through are probably result of side effects of the cancer treatment.  The cancer may NOT have spread.  Dr Bishnoi will visit Margaret in Mary Potter later today once he has finished attending to his other patients, but is unable to say when he might arrive.  I tell Margaret I will return home and return to Mary Potter immediately.  It is 4.06 as I type this entry.  I am about to return to Mary Potter.  Will Margaret perhaps be able to recover and come home?.]

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Friday 14 July 2023

The diary entry for Friday 14 July 2023 continues.

It is now 8.40 and I have been home long enough to put away the ghetto blaster and bedside clock radio that I had taken into Mary Potter for Margaret.  Neither of them were able to get any reception, presumably because of equipment at Calvary Hospital.  As I write this I am completely stunned.  Maurine was already there when I arrived and Jameson and Charli arrived shortly after me.  They all left just after 7.00 pm, after Margaret had another trip outside in the wheelchair so she could smoke.  It had seemed there was no possibility of Dr Bishnoi arriving.  It was after 7.00 pm on a Friday evening – but Dr Bishnoi stunned us both by arriving at about 7.25 pm.  Until the Calvary doctor – at Margaret’s insistence – had rung him, he had no idea that Margaret was in Mary Potter.  He also had no idea that Margaret had spent four nights in Royal Adelaide Hospital.  Dr Bishnoi had received no information at all about Margaret from either hospital.  The last cat scan he was aware of was the one done in May and based on that cat scan, he thought it was unlikely that Margaret was in imminent danger of dying from the cancer.  He had no idea what was causing the pain and he had no idea of the medical reasons why Margaret had been referred to Mary Potter.  He promised to get copies of the information from Royal Adelaide and return on Tuesday 18 July.  Dr Bishnoi asked if Margaret would like to return home.  We said yes, but that was impossible given Margaret’s current state of health.  Dr Bishnoi asked if Margaret would like rehabilitation and we both asked what that meant.  He did not explain that.

When Dr Bishnoi left, Margaret spoke with the nurse in charge.  Dr Bishnoi had communicated the same information to her.  Brie the charge nurse was extremely sympathetic and helpful.  Margaret would not and could not be sent home in her current terrible state of health, but the news that she was not in immediate danger of dying was wonderful.  We were both completely stunned and I left for home at about 8.00 pm.  I was in bed by 10.00 pm.

Saturday 15 July 2023

I woke at 7.15 am on Saturday 15 July.  At 7.52, Marg sent me a text saying she had just woken up.  We agreed that I would have a leisurely start to the day.  At 9.08 I started my walk and was home one hour later.  After a shower, I wrote this entry.  I will be at Mary Potter by about 11.15.

I actually arrived at 10.25.  Marg was in good spirits and being helped in the bathroom by the nurses.  Once she was in the wheelchair, I wheeled her to the back of the hospital so she could smoke.  It was cold and wet, too cold to be out the front.  She had spoken with Kevin that morning; Kevin is one of the two nurse practitioners who are in charge of Mary Potter.  Kevin too was stunned by the news from Dr Bishnoi and - like Brie the evening before - concerned for the mental health of both of us.  Like Brie, he assured Margaret that she had a place at Mary Potter until such time as she is physically able to function properly at home.  Shortly after lunch, Marg said I could go home and have some time out.  She agreed that she would be fine if I walked at Morialta and did not arrive tomorrow until about 11.30 am

I left at about 2.30 pm and phoned Gus to tell him what had happened.  After picking up nicotine inhalers from the pharmacy for Marg, I returned home and told Chris and Mary the news from Dr Bishnoi.  They too were stunned.  I then meditated for an hour.  It is now 6.47 and I am about to return to Mary Potter.

I arrive at Mary Potter at 7.15 and wheel Margaret out for cigarettes at 8.00 pm.  She smokes many because I am not due until after 11.00 am tomorrow.  I eventually persuade her that I need to go home, get out of the freezing cold and drive through the city before the football match finishes at Adelaide Oval.  I have to drive very close to the oval and if I drive past just as the match finishes, it will be a very slow trip.  I am home by 9.30 and in bed by 10.10.

Sunday 16 July 2023

I woke on Sunday 18 July at 6.30 when the phone alarm went off and got dressed to walk at Morialta.  It was 4 degrees Celsius – very cold.  I needed exercise but I was not willing to trust my body reactions to my big perimeter walk so I chose a compromise.  I met Alf and Carmine on the way back from First Falls and we returned to First Falls.  On the way back from First Falls, we met Mario walking towards the inner car park.  He was thinner because of his chemotherapy but he still refused to give in to the disease.  He has another chemotherapy session scheduled for Tuesday 18 July.  Coffee and biscuits in the hut was great and I arrived at Mary Potter at 11.10 am.  Marg said she had been a nuisance to the staff.  She was feeling nauseous and had not been able to eat.  Kevin, the nurse in charge came in to talk to us both.  He was “recalibrating” all treatment in an attempt to discover what was going wrong with Margaret.  He felt that the pain control ought to have been successfully bedded down by this stage but it wasn’t.  He was aware of what Dr Bishnoi had said on Friday but hinted that he felt a different factor or factors might be at work.  After I wheeled Marg out for cigarettes and we had returned to the room, Margaret’s nurse came to make sure she was okay.  She too hinted that there might be more going on than Dr Bishnoi was aware of but she too did not elaborate.  I think Marg and I both understood what the nurse was hinting at.  Marg made a point of saying that she “felt safe” at Mary Potter and I said that I too felt she was safe at Mary Potter.

Once again I have the feeling that even if the cancer is in temporary retreat, something else is at work and when Marg said she “felt safe” I got the feeling that she will leave me, not today, but probably soon.