I was warned about going to Ottawa. At first, I was warned by the Prime Minister that Ottawa was being occupied by a fringe minority of racists, misogynists, Nazis, and homophobes who were causing havoc in the city and preventing the lives of other Canadians from getting back to normal. Then, the mainstream media, recipients of the ruling government’s outlandish largesse trumpeted this call from every last parapet of their chain of crumbling castles. Finally, I was warned by my partner that if I embarrassed her by getting arrested, I would need to find a new home. So, naturally, I went.
I packed my car with bags of lentils, rice, onions and potatoes and headed west. Three hours later, I entered the core of the city with great ease and parked my car 8 or 9 blocks from the Parliament. It was much quieter than I had expected and parking was easier and quicker than I had ever experienced in any major city, ever. Where was this unruly mob of racists and homophobes?
As I walked up Bank Street, I was greeted with smiles, hellos, and good mornings from strangers draped with Canadian flags, or holding flag poles waving our iconic maple leaf. I passed by some of the trucks and a wagon making hot food for the homeless. We were all headed to Parliament to listen, to speak, and maybe even to be heard by those who were paid handsomely to hide inside these gothic towers where it was cozy and warmer by at least 40 degrees centigrade. There were police cars at every intersection, stationed with their flashers on, their occupants inside watching us from behind masks, waiting for something to happen so that they could serve and protect. The irony was palpable and I felt pity for them as I could only imagine what it is like to serve two masters.
The iron gates in front of Parliament were lined with a collage of posters: expressions of the people’s disgust with Big Pharma, with Big Brother, with the WEF, with the mainstream media, and with the puppet and clown show of sociopaths who for decades, nay…centuries, have been hiding from those whom they have betrayed. The police were standing on guard for them, about 50 metres back behind the gates, shielding Parliament from the throng gathered in front of the preacher on the main stage. I looked around the crowd for racists and misogynists and the waving of swastikas. And amidst the ubiquitous maple leaf, I counted the French flag, the Australian flag, the Quebec ‘Patriotes’ flag, and in the distance, a rainbow flag with a maple leaf. That must be the homophobe in the crowd.
My next stop was base camp for the truckers, about 4 km away from Parliament Hill. The camp was set up in the parking lot of the baseball stadium, directly across from the Department of National Defense. It was an ironic setting. A few police cars were stationed on the ‘front line’ of Coventry Road, lights flashing, doing nothing, which was all that really needed to be done. My reasons for coming here were twofold: to deliver food, and to hopefully see my long-lost sister whom I had heard was working here, supporting the truckers as best as she could.
What should one expect to find in a base camp for the resistance? My immediate impression was that of three movies: Spartacus, Star Wars and The Matrix, but with one very pronounced difference. Combat training was replaced by hugs, generosity, and a general outpouring of love and kinship; a far cry from the raucous band of misogynists, homophobes and racists reported by the globalist mainstream media.
About ten minutes into my tour of the camp I noticed my sister sitting on a folding chair outside, smoking a cigarette and speaking with someone on her phone. As I chatted with someone, I kept glancing at her, waiting for her to finish her smoke. Finally, she looked up and saw me looking at her. She wasn’t sure who was it. I lowered the collar of my coat to reveal my face further. Still no significant reaction. I opened my arms out toward her, and the lump in my throat grew as tears welled in my eyes. Then my arms were no longer grasping at the air. A minute later, one of the camps spiritual counsellors had joined us, then 3 more women. This wasn’t so much a jedi training camp as it was an assembly of souls, empaths, people who had been rejected by society in some way and were working together to help others who, like them, were suffering as a result of the government vaccine mandates and de facto suspension of the Charter of Rights.
Later that day, I would have deep conversations with many other people at the camp, and at a hotel where I was meeting some new friends. That is one of the interesting phenomena to have transpired from all this chaos which has been thrust upon us; for every ‘friend’ that I have lost as a result of my convictions, I seem to have gained at least two more. For every dollar that some crowdfunding app, the government, or bank has stolen from donators, another $3 dollars has come in. For every log of wood or jerry can of fuel the police have reluctantly stolen from the people they are paid to serve and protect, even more has arrived. The police have since stopped stealing food and fuel, perhaps because they know the futility of trying to fight a force that has nothing to lose, a force that, deep down, they would prefer to be fighting for, rather than against.
The people I met in Ottawa had deep spiritual beliefs and came from a variety of ethnic and religious backgrounds, not that I was looking for differences between them, but simply to point out that this ‘fringe minority’ is diverse, massive and represents the best of what this country has to offer. I learned a lot in one afternoon, probably far more than I did on any week-long spiritual retreat, or month-long pilgrimage. These people were teaching me much about love and gratitude, fearlessness and belief, not just by their words, but by their actions. It was a stark contrast to the encounter I had had at a supermarket a few days before Christmas where I was subject to a hysterical verbal assault by an unstable vaxxer for passing within 6 feet of him as I steered my cart toward the checkout counter.
The people here are fighting corruption, apathy, and as is obvious to anyone who has not been jabbed, a mass psychosis of absurd proportions. Most of the volunteers here are people who have been rejected by their families and friends, people who have lost their livelihoods because of their decision not to be coerced into taking the jab. One does not make such decisions flippantly; it is not out of sheer rebelliousness, or drunkenness, or homophobia, misogyny or racism. They have actually studied ‘the science’ and what they have seen is horrific. They understand the lessons of Stalinism, Nazism, and of Tiananmen Square, and many of them have given up well-paying careers to preserve liberty for their children, for your children, and for humanity.
Before leaving that evening, I had the pleasure of speaking with one woman who taught me the greatest lesson of all, a lesson about patience and faith, and it is on that note that I will conclude. Her mother-in-law had attempted to separate her from her two boys, aged 4 and 6, by claiming that their ‘mommy was going to endanger their lives because she wasn’t vaxxed and didn’t follow the mandates of masking up’. Rather than express anger and indignation, as I would have, she was calm and asked her boys to reason it out, to use logic. So, she asked her young boys the following:
“You know your grandma has been vaxxed twice and wears a mask most of the time, right?”
“Yes,” they responded.
“And you know how your grandma has been sick, right?”
“Yes,” they responded.
“Now you know your mommy has never been jabbed, right?”
“Right,” they replied again.
“And yet I never wear a mask,” she added.
“And have I ever been sick these last two years?”
“No,” they responded.
“So…I’ll let you think about that. What makes sense to you? I’m not going to tell you what to think or what to believe. I just want you to think about it and come to your own conclusions.”
It took these young boys a short moment to understand, to know the truth. So why have so many grown adults, not yet put two and two together and come to see what is so obvious? I’m not going to tell you what to think or believe, I just want you to think about it and come to your own conclusions.
This report comes from a friend (pseudonym “Richard”) who was on the ground in Canada, seeing for himself what the protestors want. These are his thoughts for which I thank him for trusting me to publish them.