Quite bummed and getting down. Trying to identify the reason.

Suspect it has to do with the document re Collège des médecins du Québec.

I find it difficult to accept that here I am, a human being with an injury, one who must fight his way through these multiple levels of people in good health, with good jobs, whose lives are more or less secure and operating on an even keel.

And these individuals who refuse to render assistance, or who create obstruction after obstruction, after obstruction, are all being paid from my tax dollars.

But it is not the money that is the issue. It is the sense of being alone and having to fight my way upstream against a system, no I must correct that usage as it represents nothing more than a reification. There is no system, there are only collections of people. Communities of adversity. Neighbourhoods of belligerent ignorance. A collective of wilful neglect. I must fight these communes on my own, one man with weak arms, and now a damaged brain, battling the power of many.

And they do not suffer from despair – they go home to a safe and secure lifestyle and a fat pay cheque with an indexed, defined benefit pension plan as the ultimate reward for all their neglect and obstructionism.

It is this that gets me down. That starts the spiral of despair. The tailspin.

My antidote is to go for a walk, to be a flâneur in search of images of ordinary beauty. I should be working on my submission to Réjean Hébert and the Collège des médecins du Québec but I am off tramping the woods, playing hooky. Much of this evening has been spent working on images. I am surprised at the degree to which this simple activity soothes my soul, puts perspective back into my life, restores the energy required to keep going. I am not sure what I would do if I had never picked up a camera, or a pencil, or a paintbrush. Go mad, I presume.