Saying Goodbye to a Universe

It is weird in the life of a writer. You become part of that which you write, there is a reason the words spill out on the page. Is it a quirk of character? A question that arises? A soul movement? The characters speaking into you and asking out to perform? All of the above and so much more. It is why I enjoyed Jules Schwartz’s comics and metaphysical writings, he got it. During this journey my lifetime characters have shared the journey, their legacies have changed. Heroes felt the effects of real world health, mental health and relationships…outcomes and solutions-some healthy, some permanent, with the ripples.

Whether it was the Great Crime Fighters, Bionic Knight or Lee Jacobs line (amongst many others) over the past several decades these characters have aided in unpacking through allegory and metaphor life. Such heroes from mythology, ancient aliens, cryptids, ancient lore re-imagined with spins of secret agents, Supras, and catalysts like this that saw Rick Saturn and his soul mate, Susan, vanish into the nether that was the Nirvana of Camelot, to allow Beth Venus to actualize into the new BK. The ending of death through suicide by others who could not handle the crushing blows of trauma in their own isolation without social supports and the crush of trauma upon a life seeing colleagues and friends die or vanish.

At times funny, other times raw. The Lee Jacobs pulps launched new story arcs attempting to tackle the current toxic dualism of our world.  I am sure at this point the reader understands that for me whether a mystery, pulp hero or fantasy-science fiction it is used to raise issues and challenge a reader’s notion of life to be able to discourse and dialogue. I have sat here during this vocation reinvention staring at the blank screen and keyboard with ideas bumping around in my mind to pick up where the last pulp left off with Venus and the new villain colliding and exploding.

What was to come? Challenges for Williams and Jacobs in a failure to protect? Reveal of the enigmatic new villain? Possible twists of returns of long gone heroes? Unpacking for Beth the heroic journey and what it means to be the Knight? For the concept behind the spiritual church Jacobs ministers over is St. Jude– the patron saint of lost causes. All these would be great issues, and throwing in other concepts and debates during the time of shutdown Canada.

Yet, I block. There is no Gremlin stopping the gears and words from rolling, rather it is a–not a weariness or a fatigue–rather a completeness…the ambiguity of the last entry’s ending is like life it self. Before the advent of social media and relationships continued on past their best before date.  There was a time, when things wound down, when questions were left unanswered, and in our resiliency we sat with that and moved forward…to often characters, like relationships, carry on past their best before date…and it does not bode well.

So I sit. In the midst of discernment for vocation reinvention…and my tales of what was once jokingly termed the “tyverse” by friends reading the pulps printed on dot matrix printer paper…

is complete.

Now to see where the great universal muse takes me to play.

Mistletoe and Broken Swords

The black gauntleted hand smashed hard into her golden helm, the Bionic Knight was reeling. She had not had a throw down challenge of someone as strong or stronger than her in her short career. Beth Venus shook her head hoping the com-link had remained in. Retired Constable Sean James was in the old F-150 200 million K white pick up relaying best he could from the tracking off a tablet. Their van had been stolen and torched.

Pastor Lee Jacobs was next to him. Sean had used his previous undercover guise of Sean Williams to track the stolen van to a crew of thugs attempting to re-ignite the spree killing hate group inspired by the departed villain- Killer Face. The six were easy to incapacitate, and drop a line to the police for round up. As Beth took flight to leave the ware house imploded and the black armoured figure streaked through the night air and in a burst of blue flame energy his fist met with her face.

“B.K., duck and weave girl.” Sean said.

“That’s what you got for me?” Beth said as she tried to shake her mind back to reality and track the black armoured  figure against the night sky. The new style street lights city council brought on were supposed to reduce fake light pollution to allow the stars to light the night. They failed horribly a few decades back not purchasing the shade as an “austerity cost saving measure”, so you were not only left with enough light pollution to block out the stars, you were also left with not enough light to illuminate the roads.

She ran a golden gauntleted hand down her helm, she felt the green energy through a crack. The dude had cracked her armour. How was that possible?

Lee slipped on a pair of night vision goggles to track the fight. For some reason in his mind he was running through the Norse Myth of the Mistletoe. A legend of under-estimating what horrors an innocuous plant could cause. Word had come down that Baldur was to die, the Gods got everything in the world to promise not to harm him, but had forgotten the innocent looking Mistletoe. They created a game, of hurling things at Baldur and seeing them bounce off, his brother, though blind and left out, was found by that trickster Loki, and encouraged to participate. See Loki had spoke with the Mistletoe, who also felt left out. It was the Mistletoe that Loki placed in Baldur’s brother’s hand to throw…and fatality ensued.

Death due to surprise. Not thinking beyond what was presented. The literal. The trickster mind. “Sean, look closer at that armour. Remind you…”

“The Ionic Knight.” Sean said. Lee knew, they both knew, the Ionic Knight had been the original Bionic Knight’s ultimate nemesis. Powered by the magics that had wanted to destroy Camelot…that being Morgan La Faye and Mordred, that which corrupted Lancelot. The original Ionic Knight had been the original Bionic Knight’s twin brother. Yet, Beth’s brother was dead.

The mystery of who was a problem to solve later. The first thing to solve was how their girl was going to survive.

“Mistletoe.” Lee said.

Sean looks at his friend. “You feeling the need to kiss strangers?”

Lee shook his head and grabbed the com from Sean. “B.K. draw him in close, then power down and up rapidly.” Mistletoe took Baldur and the Gods by surprise. This new player was underestimating the rookie hero in how he was manhandling her.

Lee heard B.K. gurgle as a choke hold was placed around her neck, and the black sword known as Chivalry was drawn by her opponent. It was shifting from long sword to dagger. He was going to shiv her through the chink in her armour, and then grow killing her. The original Ionic Knight had been redeemed by giving his life to save the world. This one was out for blood. “He’ll kill me if I do.” was choked through the com. Lee got the child’s worry, but it was the hail Mary that was needed. It was what St. Jude’s did on a regular.

“For your life… Please…Beth.” Lee said.

The tip of the black magic dagger Beth felt it cut through her chain mail and break skin. Her hear was groggy from the lack of oxygen flow. Spotlight from a news helicopter and a police helicopter.

“bionic off.”

Green and blue energy explode around the two fighting armoured figures.

A blood tipped dagger explodes to full length…

Armour pieces fly away into the night…

Of bad coffee, donuts and parking lots

Williams attempted not to grimace as the cup of coffee from Circle K was one step below Emergency Room coffee in hospitals, he had better stuff visiting homeless shelters when he was a Constable. Jacobs bit into the soggy donut from the $1 for a half dozen variety of glazed from Wal-Mart.  7-11 had great donuts and coffee, unfortunately that was not where the resources had come from as they traveled through back roads in Williams’ old VW Bus looking for St. Jude’s Sprinter Van someone had lifted.  A parishioner had shared the idea that car thieves dumped cars in and around Tim Horton’s.

“We are wasting out time” Retired-Constable Sean Williams said.

Jacobs took another swig of brutal coffee, really why hadn’t they upgraded to bad swill and just ordered from one of the Timmy’s they had been driving through the parking lots of. Jacobs noted that the concept of this stake out had invigorated his friend. The man had never taken the time to mourn the loss of his job and the identity that came with it when he retired. Much like he could eulogize or allegory the province not having mourned the transition away from oil sands to other forms of energy in the world. It was being stuck in that grief cycle stalled out on anger and denial that had led to the vitriol of moving away from the steady guidance and support of the previous governing party into the new regressive theocratic-fascist state that was developing.

Which is why Jacobs knew that St. Jude’s was needed now more than ever. A gathering community for those of the lost causes living in a province governed by the lost cause, a miracle of the affirmation of humanity and birthing into the new had to happen.

“Probably, but where else are we going to get this excitement?” Jacobs responded. “Do you think they dumped it? I mean it was fairly new.”

“If it had been used as wheels for a smash and grab, chances are it was dumped. I’ll give a call to impound to see if it was picked up. But they could’ve also grabbed it to chop.” Williams said.

Jacobs scratched his few days growth of salt & pepper whiskers, the grabbing vehicles just for joy rides too was an option, in which case if it wasn’t in an accident, it could’ve been left anywhere. With the recent heavy snow fall, the white van simply could be fading into the background.

Melanie tugged her St. Jude’s hoody down as she stood up and head out onto the church steps to talk to the media. The missing van was impacting their children and youth outreach for the area, as it was what was used to pick up kids after school and bring them to the church. Those that weren’t yet connected with older kids to walk to the church. She was hoping by talking to the media.

Walking out of the Sacristry, she was was coming by the raised altar area, where she noted the youngest addition to the family curled up in the high backed oak chair just off the side of the pulpit. The furnishings of the rebuilt church had become a hodge podge of different church stylistics as many in the area wanted to see St. Jude’s around to do the social justice piece of the gospel so they could focus on the prosperity end, hence they dumped quite a lot of what had been taking up storage space on them.

Beth Venus’ long curly ginger hair was draped forward hiding her face, and Melanie could pick up her whispering to herself. Due to air traffic even smart phones had a hard time getting signals in the old church. “Hey kiddo.”

Melanie Moon could feel the grimace and cut eye through the hair, all the hair needed was sun glasses and she could’ve been cos playing cousin It from Addams Family. “Don’t call me kiddo I could…”

“Bench press the galaxy yada yada yada” Melanie said as she slides onto the bar stool next to the chair (like we had noted, a hodge podge of weird, kinda like the parish itself). “But you are not powered up currently, just emoing in the sanctuary.” (editor’s note: Beth Venus is the secret identity of the new Bionic Knight). “So our over powered and hormoned 15 year old what ever art thou wrestling with?”

Beth sniffled, and looked like she wiped a tear away. Her parents had vanished on her and her brother leaving them to a street life, and then her brother had been lost to the opioid crisis wrecking havoc on the province. Beth had then lived with the Great Crime Fighters on a piece of land known as the Ashram, before they had died and the base was destroyed. That is what brought her to live at St. Jude’s through Lee’s big heart.

“Just don’t want to leave.” Beth sniffles out.

Something was wrong, Mel had attempted to put her arm around Beth, only to have the girl recoil away. “I don’t know who you’ve been hanging out with the last few months, but Lee takes folks in, I have never seen him put anyone out.”

Beth shook her head, Mel followed her eye fall on a bi-sexual flag that had been hung next to a stain glass of an apostle whose name failed Mel in this moment, possibly Andrew? “Are you trying to figure out where you are on the spectrum?”

Beth leapt from the chair and froze mid run step. “No…I mean… lookk…” she points to the crucifix…”hates…”

Melanie rose and pulled Beth in as the girl crumpled into her shoulder sobbing. “Oh honey, we love all the images of God, and that includes you. Full stop, no qualifiers.”

Lee sipped his refurbished cup of coffee, this time from a Tim Horton’s drive thru, as Williams stood next to him, they were both staring at the closed water spray park parking lot– and the burnt out remains of the church’s Sprinter.

“Oh damn.”

Spray painted on the snow was a simple message: St. Jude’s close now!

“Oh damn.”

 

2 pastors, a retired cop & a Teen Super Hero

The bluster of winter trying to interrupt fall (or autumnal weather as some wanker has dubbed it). It is made worse by the deluge of media attempting to create stories from non-stories, and not actually doing their job as journalists and challenging the off setting narrative that oil and profits mean more than the planet and people. Some would say we live in a regressive province, but then they would be right. Melanie Moon, fastened the cincture around her purple and gray academic robe denoting her Master of Social Work. St. Jude’s was in the alternative Anglo-catholic tradition (usually seen as anti-many human rights, St. Jude’s established and flourished by embracing the beautiful Imageo Dei that other traditions refused to), and did like the smells and bells vestments. She pulled the diaconal stole (a diagonal stole, sewed at the bottom, bright red) denoting her ministerial office of education, social work and care.

Retired-Constable Sean James stepped into the Sacristry to check on the associate pastor of St. Jude’s. “Ready, Mel?” Melanie Moon, retired-MLA, last Social Credit of Alberta MLA. She had shared her journey in Alberta, to run and win was the impossible task to then lose the party she served under to become an Anti-Abortion group that could have names on the ballot sickened her. She was a believer, but was not sucked into the fog and entrenchment issues. That being things like anti-LGBTTQ+, passive to active ableism through “healing prayers”; and anti-abortion.

“Ready, Sean. But seriously as a deacon I’m pretty sure I am not supposed to be serving the Eucharist.”

Sean laughed, “what about St. Jude’s screams we follow typical convention? The Eucharist is about hope, about family together, all those that Jesus’ society said were not worthy, or less than, being there and being worthy, and the beloved image that we were created in and called very good and blessed.” Mel stared blankly at Sean. “Lee figured you may want to freeze up on your first solo show he gave me a cue card.” Sean holds up the lined piece of card board.

Mel laughed. Yes, Lee, was a former journalist turned priest. St. Jude’s took the risk to take her on as an associate after she chose not to run again in what was probably the dirtiest and most corrupt Alberta election on record. She spent time discussing with Lee the writings of Nouwen, Day, Fox, Spong, Ragan, Aberhart, Borg, to name but a few and it was through this he asked her to take a risk.

Mel did. The MLA’s in Alberta may not have a platinum pension like other provinces or the Federal or Civic elected, but there was a nice severance package that would float her while St. Jude’s trusted to raise the funds for her role. Sean checked his smart phone and chuckled. “Lee checking in to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Mel laughed, “isn’t he supposed to be chaperoning Beth’s school camp trip?” Ah band camp, they needed parent-guardian volunteers, Sean, Mel and Lee drew straws, long one went. Beth Venus, the most powerful magical hero in the world, The Bionic Knight, was also a fifteen year old high schooler. Since they had issues with the government chronic under-funding of public schools and forcing parents to work Casinos, Bingo’s and rely on the Lotto Fund (which the latest Alberta Budget revoked) for funds… it was preying on vice, and addiction…an addiction that had no outwards signs until complete devastation of the person if they could not get help ala a small T financial trustee, or worst case, suicide after losing all connecting points in society.

The words flowed through Moon from the altar, using a Franciscan Eucharist. Some state that a Eucharist is rote prayers and creeds that have no meaning, these are those that engage out of tradition, and this is just what we do on Sunday mornings, with no ripple effect into the other 6 days and 22 hours of life. But for those that it had the effect on, it was a frame work, like a coat hanger to hang your coat of life on.

Mel opened up her sermon from the opening words of Mark, “the Kingdom is near. It is the thin space our Celtic Ancestors spoke of, that our Indigenous Brothers and Sisters know, and each of us pick up on the moment by moment breaths of miraculous life that is by no ways structured, catechized, or templated for us…” she continued, as the words of wisdom spilled from her lips.

The words of the Gospel, the political statement of personal and communal life change to bring the Kingdom here…not a seeking after political power, or entrenching us versus them mentality that some saw in extremist groups like the dying Dominionist Movement, or other religious extremes…extremes that draw in all shades of Christians James knew, because you just got tired of being unwelcome, bashed, and battered…and these groups provided an ease of welcome and acceptance that centrists, progressives and pragmatists could learn from. Sadly it is easier to stay silent on that which you disagree with to actually belong, see belonging closes the space in the thin space.

“It is up to us if we create belonging in hate, power and love of money… so the Sacred Holy is closed to us for ever…or the thin space is closer and closing because it is found in hope, mystery, joy, peace… and Love…”

“Let us come to the table…”

Lee looked down at the text in with the picture of Mel serving the Eucharist from the altar at St. Jude’s. A smile crept over his lips.

Beth’s rainbow pixie popped out of the cabin. “Hey old man…did you get the text?”

“Of Mel?”

Beth cleared the twenty feet from the cabin to fire pit quickly. “No, from the BBC.” Tsunami in bound to a pacific island.

Lee laughed. “Be quick.”

“Always.” She ducked into the trees, as two words escaped her lips with a flash of white lightning…

“Bionics On!”

A new era launches…

The Enigmatic Tales of Lee Jacobs: After the Pop

Many were calling for Bobbi’s head. Canada does not have a death penalty, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t raised many times in regards to gun crimes. It was hard to progress with charges when the victim was non-co-operative, he asked for the possibility with the Crown Prosecutor for a house arrest style situation at St. Jude’s that would allow Bobbi to complete school, and work off compensation as a janitor.

Jacobs pressed the button to raise his bed up so he could look out the window with his one good eye.  He watched the armoured figured fly across. Grinned slightly. The bullet had shattered his left eye and knocked him on his butt. Bobbi had attempted to save him, who knew there would be a supernatural intervention so love could overcome hate. His fingers traced the eye patch, he could add pirate to his job list.

Fidgeting in the uncomfortable office chair was retired constable, Sean James. “Many thought you were a goner.”

Jacobs laughed. “Can’t be that morose and dark all the time, sometimes a new beginning means literally that.”

“She’s settling in well.” James said, while picking at a band aid on the back of his hand.

“But can we afford her?” Jacobs already new what his head Elder thought, finances was his concern. Lee never worried about those, he always stood by the flow method, if he created space for the need it would flow in. “Melanie Moon will be an excellent Co-Minister of St. Jude’s.” She had stood the line, the people trusted her. It made sense, and was a good transition from her work after the election of chaos and hate.

James just shook his head and grinned. If he wanted to be an elder at a church that was easy on the ulcer he would’ve joined a United one that y’know actually panicked about things as nickles and dimes in offering plates as opposed to jumping in head first. “Ashram has been bulldozed.” James said. “Break ground on the retired agent residence, will also have a side door working with the agency for any Supras and their spouses.” Jacobs nodded, a residence with on sight psychologists 7 days a week in their on-site medical clinic.  Surprisingly the idea had come from Beth Venus, who was now living in a room in the newly rebuild Manse of St. Jude. Having seen what happened to the old guard, she wanted something better. Since Speedster had left her the property, James worked with her to create the design.

“How’s Bobbi?” Jacobs asked. The boy had not come to see him since he had been loaded into the ambulance. He was worried for him.

James moved from the chair and walked towards the door, the other 3 beds in the room were still empty. He opened the door and stepped out. Jacobs heard some talking before walking back in with Bobbi. The lad locked eyes on Jacobs good eye.

“Father Jacobs I am soo—”

Jacobs interrupted. “Don’t apologize. You tried to save lives. You are working off your debt. I hold no debt or reason for forgiveness over you.” Jacobs waited a few beats as this boy looked stunned. Even after the few years at St. Jude’s, he was not used to compassion in response to what would appear against the grain. Or missing the mark.

“Bobbi, friends?”

Jacobs extends his hand to Bobbi. A shaking teenage hand takes the one with i.v. lines in the back of it.

One Enigmatic Tale Ends

Others await to be told.

The Enigmatic Tales of Lee Jacobs: At the Pop

“Go now in Holy Love of the Creator, the blessing of Brother Jesus, and the Family of the Holy Spirit. Go. Embrace. Simply say, I love you.”

Bobbi was from small town middle of nowhere’s in Alberta. Barely 16 years old when he fled home as his Dad had literally tried to beat the gay out of him.  A preacher’s kid Bobbi always found it ironic that he found himself on the steps of St. Jude’s after being jumped a few blocks away and beaten for trying to flirt.

Father Jacobs had shown compassion. Not what he had learned to expect from the church.  The folks worked with Bobbi to get a place of his own and into school, and found a lawyer so he could become emancipated. Bobbi still has visceral shakes when he remembers his Dad and brothers storming the Sunday Service looking for their “daughter and baby sister”.  Elder James and Father Jacobs blocked the isle. They had always spoken non-violence, but when the four on two attempted to swing, Jacobs used what he described as Aikido, a passive form of martial arts that uses ones own energy against them.

Bobbi’s dad and brothers left that day bruised in ego and body. Saying they had no family in this city. Bobbi should’ve felt pain, instead he felt… FREEDOM. He had a new family.

Now the trench coat had flown off. A yellow vest running towards the altar area.

He had hit his truck and gotten the .22 his Dad had given taught all his children to shoot for hunting, and Bobbi still enjoyed hunting. The wild meat made for some amazing community meals.

Violence is never the answer, Love is. Yet the day when they came for Bobbi…Father Jacobs and Elder James stood their ground.

He fumbles a bullet in and bolt actions. Exhales and fires at the running form.

As a yellow vest falls into the crowd and vanishes.

The pop shattered the moment.

“No.” was it even audible as the rifle falls to the parking lot. Commands to hands behind head. Bobbi is moving through muscle memory of compliance.

As where once there was four, now there was only three…

The Enigmatic Tales of Lee Jacobs: Before the Pop

Beth nods to Moon, a trench coated figure moving in the far back with a ball cap pulled down. Retired Constable Sean James followed the gaze, he knew security was good and would get the individual. Due to the dress looked very androgenous, but they had rounded up many that had decided to cause a ruckus.

Jacobs was in Jacobs form. The Holy Spirit was moving through him, Beth thinks as she continues to scan the crowd. She chuckled at the thought. This old broken down writer turned preacher she knew very little about who looked her in the eye when she was in the Bionic Knight armour and said no to her offer of help. Now today he was holding a parking lot Mass of Hope he called it. The Open Table of Love. It sounded corny as it went through her mind, but the corn bread was real.

Another break out of campfire hymn singing. As it quiets down, Jacobs picks up the bread “On the night he was betrayed, betrayed out of fear and hate for change, for the old ways dying away. For those oppressive powers and control authorities realizing they needed to release and let go and let come the new Holy Love. Jesus took bread and broke it. This is the bread of hope.” As if on cue lunch bags, snacks, you name it started coming out, and a potluck smorg was shared with all. It was St. Jude’s way. Communion was not just a simple piece of bread it was eating, like the feeding of the masses miracle. Jacobs handed the bread to Moon and James who let it out to the crowd, as well as the baskets of sandwiches.

Moon smiled as she watched the bread and food move into the crowd. The other reason St. Jude’s was so relevant and real, as she had begun to understand as the area MLA (Member of Legislative Assembly) wasn’t because of some Platonic, Metaphysical or Western-Constantinian Theology…it was simple love through ensuring folks could get to treatment, medical appointments, kids were cared for, and when months were tight in the socio-economically diverse area bills were covered and food was in pantries. She had once asked Jacobs to see a budget sheet, he burst out laughing and said, “Talk to Elder James, he gets heart palpitations at least 8 times a day with how that thing is bent, broken and abused.” When she pushed on how they still survived.

He gave this grin with a chuckle. It wasn’t cockiness. It was a depth of humility. It was the type of look when he locked eyes on you that you truly believed it was all going to be alright and the good would win. “Because we give.” It made no sense to her political mind, or her basic undergrad economics mind, yet here was the result. The more they gave the more…they had in tangible and intangible ways. Almost like there truly is enough for everyone in the world.

He nodded to Beth Venus. The next part. “Then he took the cup, knowing that his blood was about to be spilled. That he was to lose his life for simply sharing the story of Holy Love and belonging. This is the cup of promise. Drink and be at the table together as family.” Beth got volunteers to begin rolling out coolers with juice, pop and water to share.

Sean James admitted Jacobs has driven him batty the entire time he has known him, from his reporter days forward.  James also knew if he did something it was with conviction and belief of actually helping people. His eyes watched the crowd reacting. Lee held that through love you dissolved hate. James thought he was nuts, and said “I told you so.” After St. Jude’s bombing and as the crowd’s gathered today.

It had looked like it was going to snow, but it had held off.

And now what he was seeing.

She noted tears in people’s eyes at the simple acts. Those in hate garb, some let it drop off as they made eye contact for the food. Simple, kindness.

Moon, James, and Venus note the trench coat drop off, the yellow vest, the cap off…

The costume underneath.

She was already vibrating wanting to dodge at super speed towards Jacobs. Beth could hear her words through magic vibration. “this life took my Johnny.” She had known her friend was hurting. But had been improving, and had entered this place of what Venus believed was contentment. Looking at the situation now it was resignation of having a plan on a place to misdirect her anger and denial.

She had promised no powers.

But here was the Speedster flying towards Jacobs ready to tear him to pieces.

An audible…

“johnny”

“Go now in Holy Love of the Creator, the blessing of Brother Jesus, and the Family of the Holy Spirit. Go. Embrace. Simply say, I love you.”

As a yellow vest falls into the crowd and vanishes.

The pop shattered the moment.

The Enigmatic Tales of Lee Jacobs: In Memoriam of the past life

The first question arose about the retired Supra agent Jacobs had been seen with after the shoot out at the trailer. He hated turning Sunday Service into a media blitz, but sometimes the Liturgy (work of the people) was about being the catalyst for change. Jacobs chuckled it was a very Catholic Workers or Social Gospel or Liberation Theology movement, but it was true. Today in the parking lot outside the office, as the writ had been dropped and Melanie Moon was no longer an MLA, and the Social Credit party ceased to be. It became outdoor church.

Already the mud slinging by the former governing and former official opposition parties had begun. Jacobs’ heart was to filled with sorrow to track the rants and lies. The fact that old things were dragged up to attack character, but no newer patterns of same behaviour were there to show legitimacy or current causation. That is even though it may be true (an attack, not a smear) it was without merit and did not allow for the fact that human being grow and evolve over a lifetime. Or the stirring of the hate and fear pot. His opening prayer had been simple at this cross roads of grief:

“Loving Creator, we are a people, a province at the crossroads. Change is grieving. We are trapped in anger and denial. Gnashing our teeth and shaking our fists against that which is no longer possible or plausible. We need hope, we need to let go that which was, and be fully present in our new reality, a province where all belong simply because they are. A true community with an open table, that loves as our Brother Jesus commanded and lived for us to do. Let us surrender our pain in this wilderness so that we can let come the new blessings that await… Alleluia!” Jacobs prayed.

As hecklers from the back in blue shirts screamed at him about not being “Heretic! Racist! Not a Christian!”

There was police present, as well as the strip mall complex security. Jacobs waited as the regular attendees of St. Jude’s began chanting “Alleluia! Alleluia! Love Wins!”

Moon nodded to him. Sean James and Beth Venus closed ranks around Jacobs, they knew this could turn sketchy, as he answered the question about Louie Regis. Beth spoke silently into her up turned denim collar so Speedster was aware. Kyla Storm, the Speedster was just on the outskirts of the crowd, her costume hid under a trench coat but ready if powers were needed. Venus stood by her promise to Jacobs, hate had to be defeated with hope, not super hero involvement.

“It’s always funny to get a press question during a church service.” Jacobs spoke again into the outdoor microphone. The regular congregants of St. Jude’s were alternative verses of Jesus Loves Me and Come in, Come in and Sit Down you are apart of the family. “I did not know retired Agent Louie Regis well. I knew of his reputation when the police came to tell me someone had assassinated him. I use that term, because folks need to understand murder/assassination are the same thing. Usually it is title or socio-economics that determine the word choice. Louie may never have made it above working class salary in-spite of his white collar look, but he served our Country. He retired due to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and should’ve been able to rest and heal.” Jacobs takes a sip from the McCafe coffee he had picked up on his way to the parking lot. His eyes scanning for anything that could be a long shot gun. The goon mobs of extremist party members were still trying to agitate, and he noted the attire of some known hate groups as well. He was happy to see that the police and security were starting to root, arrest and move along.

“Unfortunately the passion he put into protecting others, and being their pillar of strength he did not think himself worthy enough of. I hope the Governor General allows for a full honours funeral, and I pray this is a change in the national dialogue around trauma, mental health, addiction and violence so that we can truly become a nation that loves our neighbours, but also loves ourselves with the same love. Louie’s death is a reminder what happens when we only fulfill one part of the second Great Commandment, love of neighbour without honouring our own Imageo Dei. Now back to your regularly scheduled service.”

Melanie Moon opened a well worn New King James Bible, and reads to the gathered crowd:

³⁴ But when the Pharisees heard that He had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together. ³⁵ Then one of them, a lawyer, asked Him a question, testing Him, and saying, ³⁶ “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law?”

³⁷ Jesus said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ ³⁸ This is the first and great commandment. ³⁹ And the second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ ⁴⁰ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”

She hands the microphone back to Jacobs. He finishes off his cup and deposits it in a recycle bin. “Anyone with a passing knowledge of the Hebrew Bible or Donnie Osmond Musicals (editors note for the youngsters: this is a Dad joke about Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, fyi, my daughter says her aunt does Dad jokes better). Knows we need to pay attention to dream work for sometimes it is simply our subconscious dealing with bull shit, other times it is a healthy place to release the hurt and pain. Sometimes it is where we learn…and on a very slim moment it can be a mystical experience.

I had one of those multi-coloured mystical moments. To the citizens of this province I want to let you know that our hero is not coming to pull us out of this quagmire of fear and hate. The original Bionic Knight is gone.”

Jacobs let that sink in, seeing some faces tear up, even the hecklers, bullies and aggressors in the audience were gob smacked.

“His name is Rick Saturn, his wife was our beloved mayor that vanished last year, Susan Kobwash. They have two amazing super heroes as children blessed to experience this life with Cerebral Palsy and Autism respectfully. They have joined the pocket verse between the multi-verses…” a few heart beats to let that sink in. “They are living their best life, as both Susan and Rick, and their kids shared with me, he has moved through the destruction wrecked by the a-typically cellularly ingrained Post Traumatic Stress Disorder into what is known as Post Traumatic Growth… or to a simple shit disturber like me, the path of Light renewal.”

A break out of singing old hymns from all around. Then the voices become more unified as they sing an old favourite of St. Jude’s, John Lennon’s Imagine . As the singing comes to a close, before he continues, Jacobs opens up for the Lord’s Prayer. As is the custom of his congregants, and to the beauty being sent out via the news. They do not pray in English, they may if that’s their language, but Latin is heard, Cree, Blackfoot, German, Russian, many African and Island dialects. For Jacobs he calls it the Pentecost moment of service, where the simple prayer is said and heard so all may hear it in their language.

“Saturn wants us to release our anger and hate. To grieve. Let the tears flow don’t hide behind toxic human beliefs. Feel. Love. He knows he can be in the next phase of life, for the hope is here already within each of us. The still small voice that speaks what is honest, good, and true. That which allows us to have compassion for ourselves and neighbour, and to truly know that the only way forward to a bright future is by embracing the beautiful Mosaic like is gathered here today.”

Venus and James watched the rabble rousers, the next part was the heading to the closer, and the benediction was going to be the tell.

“So my family, however you identify we are connected through the holy spark, that blessed breath that gave us life. Listen to the simple words of Jesus, Love your neighbour as yourself. It is how we show love for God. If anyone piece falls down, we are not truly living the sacrament of Holy Love…and then hate and fear win. So Love.”

Another break out of campfire hymn singing. As it quiets down, Jacobs picks up the bread “On the night he was betrayed, betrayed out of fear and hate for change, for the old ways dying away. For those oppressive powers and control authorities realizing they needed to release and let go and let come the new Holy Love. Jesus took bread and broke it. This is the bread of hope.” As if on cue lunch bags, snacks, you name it started coming out, and a potluck smorg was shared with all. It was St. Jude’s way. Communion was not just a simple piece of bread it was eating, like the feeding of the masses miracle. Jacobs handed the bread to Moon and James who let it out to the crowd, as well as the baskets of sandwiches.

He nodded to Beth Venus. The next part. “Then he took the cup, knowing that his blood was about to be spilled. That he was to lose his life for simply sharing the story of Holy Love and belonging. This is the cup of promise. Drink and be at the table together as family.” Beth got volunteers to begin rolling out coolers with juice, pop and water to share.

She noted tears in people’s eyes at the simple acts. Those in hate garb, some let it drop off as they made eye contact for the food. Simple, kindness.

“Go now in Holy Love of the Creator, the blessing of Brother Jesus, and the Family of the Holy Spirit. Go. Embrace. Simply say, I love you.”

The pop shattered the moment.

The Enigmatic Tales of Lee Jacobs: Pot O’ Gold

There is ancient Celtic myths around Leprechauns and their gold. Modern cerealogy tells us that luck is in charms. Meanwhile the sanitized celebration for a genocidal maniac, St. Patrick’s Day has us dying things green, and talking about chasing rainbows to their tails anchored in pots of gold.

Rainbows.

“I hate colour.” Lee Jacobs said. All he wanted was a deep sleep, the kind where you awake well rested and do not recall your dreams. What he got instead was  a mystical experience from a super-hero and a former mayor with their kids that many presumed missing, assumed dead.

“Mr. Jacobs, this is Camelot.” one of the children said. His mother hugged him and her sister close.

“What is left of Camelot. It is a pocketverse in the multi-verse.” Susan Kobwash said. Former mayor, adventurer with the Great Crime Fighters, and wife to Rick Saturn, the (original) Bionic Knight. “There is some literal truth in each myth or legend that goes with the eternal truth.”

Lee scratched his head, looking at the man in the golden armour, with the balding head. More salt that pepper in his beard as he locked tired eyes with Jacobs. What Lee had seen before entering the rainbow of the man with tremors was no more, just weary with some tears in his eyes. “Bionic Knight?”

“Not anymore. I hold the PenDragon magic, but Beth Venus is the new Bionic Knight of earth.” Rick said. Lee nodded, it already confirmed a heavy suspicion he had about the young lady, and gave him some pride that she had heard his words about battling hate without super powers that she would return to him in her secret identity to continue the fight. “I’m simply Rick.”

Lee nodded, as Rick and Susan went on to share what brought them to Camelot at the end of the Rainbow bridge. The piece of the multi-verse between all the other realms. What ancient philosophers, mystics and theologians had termed such as Hades, Purgatory or Limbo…a place of nowhere and everywhere all at once. They had been healing from the psychogenic non-epileptic seizures and chronic pain the decades of heroics had brought into Rick’s system as a result of his a-typical Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Susan and the kids had chosen to come to Camelot, much like the Fantastic Four was a family that shared adventures, so they chose to share adventures. Healing of all the traumas and vicarious traumas were on the board.

“So this is some mystical Big TOE type Post Traumatic Growth?” Lee said. (writer’s note: Big TOE is a metaphysical-quantum physics terminology for Big Theory of Everything).

(Also writer’s note Post Traumatic Growth, also known as PTG, is the phase of life after healing through PTSD where one can be known to come into a spiritual awakening).

Rick smirked.

“Yes, we are moving through the pain and the hurt to the new reality. The four of us are Camelot, and enjoying exploring all the other realities and the relationships that are we are coming into.” Susan said.

“Wait, you are Camelot?” Lee quizzled.

“Yes, the last of the PenDragon energy has allowed us to become Camelot that which was thought destroyed with my friend John MacCurtis when he stopped the evil alien god, Thor. We can slide through dimensions and universes using the Rainbow. We are finally home and at peace.” Rick said.

Lee got the hint behind it. Everyone kept talking about the “real” Bionic Knight returning to put things right. To save the world once more. Rick was closing that door, and he brought it to… “Why me?”

“Lee, I have grown up with you, seen what you do, and know people listen to you. Take the message home that we are no more, let the nation grieve and heal. Let them accept the new.” Rick said. He extended his hand. Lee shook it. “The Great Crime Fighters are yours. A new team, a new family if you will for old threats, but the wisdom beats in your heart.”

“Wait…I…”

The colours vanished.

The trailer’s laminate was all to real as Lee bounced his face off of it having fallen off the couch. Not really how he enjoyed mystical experiences ending, though it wasn’t like he had a lot of experience with them.

The sermon for Sunday was in his heart now. He clicked open his phone and dialed MLA Moon, here’s hoping with the election call looming she may still be able to swing a feed of the Sunday message to bring out the good grieving a country, a province, a city needed to embrace the new.

Meanwhile…

Louie Regis, former agent of Canada’s Supra Agency, who wrestles with his own typical PTSD that results in flashbacks, depression and anxiety spells. Today was a good day. He hadn’t had many before retirement, or since he had this feeling to track down MacKay to only discover his old friend dead, and a new batch of yahoos playing hero.

Regis finished what was left of his beer in the run down bar. His trusty snub nose .38 still in a shoulder holster under his rumpled suit. It was a controlled fire arm, and he was not supposed to be carrying it. But Louie had seen, and been involved with enough things to know the necessity of protection in a weird world.

Sliding from the stool, his worn loafers stuck a little to the pitty plank wood as he moved to the stain glass door and stepped out into the night air. Funny enough an avowed atheist, that he was off to church the next morning to hear what the big deal was with this Father Lee Jacobs, and the importance of rebuilding some parish always on financial life support (St. Jude’s).

The six beers were not sitting so well with him with the crisp night air, and light fog as he walked down the road to sleep it off in old hatch back. He had grown accustomed to sleeping in his agent days and as such when travelling never bothered with hotels or motels. Louie just cleaned up at truck stops.

“Loouiee!”

Regis turned to his name…

The arrow sliced through his left eye and out the back of this head sending brain and bone pieces…

 

The Enigmatic Tales of Lee Jacobs: Dream Work

A few episodes of Letterkenney, which for anyone that has ever existed in a small town the humour just ran deeper, then attempting to get comfortable on the couch as a breeze seeped in through the plywood covered window. More than likely some bullet holes had been missed from the craziness of a night ago. Jacobs could feel stress leaving his system as he silently recited the Serenity Prayer to calm his body.

He then moved himself through a mindfulness of a body check in. Moving slowly through his muscles, seeking out the physical sensations which was easy– pain and weariness. The emotions that he was feeling of anger, grieving in sorrow and the thoughts.

Thoughts he had built walls around, because in the thoughts was the memories.

No one wanted to go through to the memories, it is how he had stayed sane throughout his life, and his loss of his lightning rod…Alexis and their bundle of joy. One day he would break through the walls, and deal with it.

Thankful sleep came… Jacobs eyes fluttered rapidly, he felt the room become bathed in rainbow light. Rainbows– the ancient myth from the Hebrew Bible after the Flood, YHWH placed the bow in the sky to promise not to destroy us all again.

Yet today here was the bow inside his trailer. Not his trailer the dead man’s, MacKay, Regis had pointed out that he had been a redeemed supra hitman that had lost a child. Talk about a cursed trailer to move in once the haters had bombed St. Jude’s, the spiritual community for the lost causes.

The bearded man was back. The rainbows flashed across Jacobs face. Something so familiar. Norse myths run through his mind, the Rainbow Bridge connecting realms…

Those brown eyes. The scars, the salty beard. A tremor in the left arm. His golden armour, yet dulled.

“Bionic Knight?” It’s a question, it should’ve been a statement.

The face speaks again…”Camelot”

As the trailer explodes in rainbow light…