Precedence

So, I have this thought.

You know how judges follow precedence? Judge A makes a decision. The next case in the docket that comes up where circumstances are similar will be cited by lawyers and judges and usually, though not always, the decision will flow from the previous case decided upon by Judge A. Judge A has set a precedence. All cases affected by similar legislation will be subject in most cases to his decision. Sometimes a judge will set a new precedence when circumstances are so compelling that falling back on a previous decision will miss the mark. It doesn’t happen often.

Why is that? I think it’s because judges are respected by other judges, certainly, and by the public in general. We respect judges because they are learned men and women who respect the laws we hold so dear. They create the laws that bind us. They are the movers and the shakers in the legal system. Human beings of course, with the same lapses in judgment that affect all of us equally, but nonetheless human beings who make a living creating the ever-shifting dynamic that is our legal system. So, judges tend to rely on previous decisions, believing that their comrades on the bench are up to snuff.

It’s the same with other professions, too. Social worker A works with a family and makes decisions and judgments which affect that family. Because social workers tend to move around a lot within their field, when social worker B comes along to take A’s place, he or she will more than likely rely on the same judgment made by the previous worker. So, when it comes time to hold someone accountable, do you go after the whole bloody lot of them…or just the first one?

Just a thought. Please feel free to comment, I am interested in what you think

 

Peace.

 

Gabriel’s Oboe

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a complicated person. I have proof.  I have cursed a blue steak while listening to Gabriel’s Oboe. In my defense, it only happened once.

I was thinking about this when I awoke from my slumber and remembered I have to go over to a friend’s tonight and copy some documents for a court case I’m involved in. You see, I launched a civil action against the people in our province who are paid to protect children, who have that responsibility both financially and morally, and who I believe failed my children. The co-defendant is the Corporation of Delta, who applied the criminal record of another individual bearing the same name and birth date as myself, to my file, causing everyone involved in the ensuing fight for custody of my children to believe I was a crack-addicted prostitute. I am, I have never been, either of those things.

At least, that’s what I am standing for.

In any case, I have come to marvel at the heaviness of our legal system. Believe me, I started this process as someone who believed deeply in justice, who held the notion that our courts and our judges are capable of meting out justice, holding wrongdoers accountable and upholding a sense of decency and morality for all of us, saying, “Look. This is an ideal to which we can all work toward. We can be good people. ” I still believe that’s the goal, even though everything I’ve seen thus far would lead most ordinary people to believe that law and justice is nothing more than using the right words and scaring the right people. It really is an adversarial system and it doesn’t take long when you’re in it, to see that the worst in people are brought out by this approach. When the lawyers approach the bench, I can almost see their ruthlessness rise up from just below the surface of themselves and paint their cheeks with a fiery hue. I see their adversary, the lay people who recognize that a great misdeed has been done to them and, because their pockets are light must suck it up or fight. I can see their fear. I can smell it, as clearly as I catch a whiff of my own.

I am about to enter court on Friday and have the lawyer who represents the Ministry for Children and Families inform me that I cannot bring an action against the Ministry, or MCFD as it’s affectionately known, or even McFamilies, as it was known by in the 90′s. (I suppose it accurately captured the ‘drive-through’ nature of child protection here, and probably everywhere else.) I must name Her Majesty the Queen in Right of the Province of British Columbia as the defendant, my adversary. I feel small, suddenly, and I can’t help but think that if we are expected to represent ourselves as lay people because we cannot afford the cost of a lawyer then, despite the frustrations of judges and the well-heeled attorneys at the bench,  we must be given a chance to make our own case, as laborious as that may be. Indeed, we are forced into making our own case if we are to expect any measure of justice at all.

As if that weren’t bad enough, I have been told that, even after that amendment (the third…I wasn’t allowed to name the Delta Police as a defendant either, I had to name Corporation of Delta), the Ministry will argue that they owed no duty of care to my children’s parent. I suppose it is that simple argument that gave the Ministry the wherewithal to permit themselves to award my children’s father with, at most, sole custody and at least eventually more access to them than I was allowed. He introduced my oldest daughter to crack and alcohol when she was 13, during that access. I wonder if they believe they owed a duty of care to my children? If so, why not ease the already over-taxed Average Joe and admit liability so we can all go home and my children and I can finally live together in some semblance of peace and normalcy? If not, if they actually believe, as they say they do, that they owe nothing for the serious errors in due diligence, there is nothing left for me to say. I must stand in absolute awe at the indifference. Is there anything more harmful to the collective sense of hope in a better future?

I carry that with me, that and a host of other grievances, including my marrying such a person in the first place. Some are my own bad judgment, some reflect the bad judgment of others. These are things that come to pass and I may not try this matter in the court of public opinion although I suspect I may be too late for that.

It’s always interesting to me when I hear people say, “I can’t comment about that. It’s before the courts.” We are the courts, people. We, any of us, can walk into any courtroom any day of the week and watch and listen as justice is handed out to trespassers. Justice is served. Accountability is honored. Or not. It’s at this point I realize how it is that we are actually NOT a democracy; we are, in fact, ruled by a Queen. I thought Pierre Trudeau had changed all of that, back in 1982, when he wrested our sovereignty from the British and brought our Constitution home and defined it with the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Still, all legal process brought against government is brought against the Queen. Now, there’s a lady with a big skirt.

Just some food for thought, but I must go now.  Gabriel’s Oboe is playing.

 

 

Peace.

 

 

I Don’t Think So

The sun shone today.

Sounds like such an ordinary thing but I’ve learned never to take a sunny day for granted. So, instead of going back to bed after the phone rang, I put on my boots, grabbed a coffee and headed up to Buntzen Lake for a hike.

I don’t know what it is about being up at the lake but I feel different inside when I get there, like I’ve come home and I can just breathe. I don’t know if it’s a shift in my perception or a shift in my soul but, whatever it is, I surrender to it as soon as the first fir trees along the trail eclipse the sun.

I’ve been coming here for 3 years. Even when we lived in Cloverdale, I came up here as often as I could.  I had found another trail in Campbell Valley and I hiked there two or three times a week. The terrain is different; with the exception of a couple of short, steep inclines the rest of the 10 k hike is pretty flat. It’s a bridle path and that’s one of the things I really enjoy about it: the chance to see a horse so close I can smell it.  Up here at Buntzen it’s different; the trail wraps around the lake and there are very few horses. Still, if it’s a peaceful break from the stress of life that you’re after, this is the place to get it.

I wish I could say that I actually take a break from the thoughts that race through my mind all day, every day. I can’t. I don’t. But at least I get the time to think them. I can take each serious thought, consider all angles, make a sound decision if one is required. I can roll the delicious thoughts around in my head, chase them like butterflies in the meadow, let them chase me back, run away with them. I can think about my ideas for a better life, a better world and if they make any sense at all, I stretch them out and help them to grow. I play with my ideas. I am in communion with my thoughts.

Thoughts are funny things. They define who we are and what we feel. They determine ultimately what we become. Yet, we show them no courtesy. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard someone say to me, “You think too much.” Um, no, I really don’t. In fact, it’s historically been not thinking that has landed me in hot water. And if you really want someone else to have the upper hand in any situation, try not thinking. Thinking improves brain function. The brain is a muscle and like any other muscle: use it or lose it. Thinking keeps us calm, in control and on top. Thinking is the thinking man’s elixir.

I asked my daughter what she thought about the subject. She said, “Mom, we all know you think too much.” I pointed out to her what I just shared with you. She sighed, and then said, “Well, sometimes you over-think things.” This may be true. I mean, I wish an alarm bell would sound or a red flag would appear to announce, “OK, YOU’VE ARRIVED AT A CONCLUSION. CEASE AND DESIST!” And, it’s true that over-thinking ANY thing can lead to the wrong conclusions. An old college professor told me once that medical students study illness and disease so deeply that they may come to believe they suffer from the very diseases they study. That is over-thinking. Conversely, I believe that we shouldn’t think so deeply that we neglect that other very important tool of discernment, our intuition.

Still, telling me I think too much and then expecting me to stop? I don’t think so.

 

 

 

Peace.

Occupying Ourselves

An Open Love Letter to #OccupyVancouver:

Hey everyone

First of all, I want to say ‘thank you’ to all of you, for being out there, in this cooler weather, sometimes even in the rain. I want to thank you for being there and representing me, one of the 99%.  I know it takes a lot of dedication and commitment to stand up against high-finance, against the system, to sleep in a tent and turn the other cheek when the ridiculing starts and people wonder what the ‘hippies’ are up to now. All those hours of organizing and the inconvenience of sharing a public washroom, a kitchen, and no place of your own, really. Maybe sometimes it might even feel hopeless and when people shake their heads and ask you why you’re doing this, you might even feel like shaking your own head and answering that you don’t know.

But, you do know.

You know what it feels like to work every day at a job, that you do because you have responsibilities and because you love your family and they need you. You pay your taxes and your telephone bill and you make sure your kids have their school supplies and winter boots and mittens. You dream of going somewhere nice for a week or two, maybe take the kids on a vacation somewhere, but that day never seems to come. When vacation time rolls around, the car needs fixing, or your youngest needs glasses or dental care or…or…or. Whatever it is, you realize there just isn’t enough anymore.

And you know, that’s life. Working for a living and stretching the budget and sometimes running short, that’s life. And it’s okay. You feel good because you know you’re a good person. You help when you can, where you can, and your family and your neighbors appreciate you, and that can be enough.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something, something dark and moving fast. Maybe it happens when you or someone you know experiences a personal tragedy and, rather than seeing justice being done, you see instead an endless itinerary of court dates and legal jargon. Or maybe it happens when your child is bullied at school and there isn’t really anything you can do about it because there are limits to what can be expected from others in the way of peaceful co-operation. Or maybe it happens when you watch others knowingly break the law, everyday, and suffer no ill consequence from it. In fact, they may boast of it. I’m not talking here about parking for free at a meter, I’m talking about people who drive drunk, or uninsured or the ones who leave a mess wherever they go and expect the ones coming after them to clean it up.To add insult to injury, they share knowing smiles with others just like them and don’t even bother to hide it anymore. They don’t have to. Their court date isn’t for a year and a half. They’ll deal with it then. You watch as agencies cut services to you, the worker, while they, the managers take a big fat bonus and retire early. The court dates pile up. The jargon becomes meaningless.

And finally you understand. You know exactly what it feels like to be a cog in a gear, a mouse on a wheel. Something inside of you turns over and you begin to burn with the knowledge of all that is wrong and unfair and unreasonable and yet somehow seems perfectly acceptable to the system that has by now become a prison.

So I want to thank you. Each of you, a thousand thanks. I know we make mistakes as we try to see where we’re going in the fog, but this is what I see: I see a multitude of us who are standing together, saying ‘no.’ We are police officers, teachers, nurses, students, housewives, mechanics, dispatchers, business owners, dental assistants, artists, tradesmen and manufacturers. And if you look close, really close, you might even see a hippy.

Stay safe, people.