Author: Ray Jason

A SEA GYPSY HOWLS AT THE MOON

by Ray Jason

Sometimes I just have to sail off by myself and howl at the moon. I anchor in a secluded spot totally removed from human society. Mountains in the background, islands in the foreground and healing water beneath me.

There my only companions live in the sea and the sky. My little sea-going monastery, with its solitude and simplicity, provides me an almost piercing perspective. Every morning I attend sunrise services in the Church of the Natural – saddened by the awareness that most of humanity is hypnotized in the Cult of the Artificial.

For a decade I have been shouting out into cyberspace, warning that demons have high-jacked the Human Voyage. For decades they did this secretly, but now they boldly proclaim their intentions from their Dark Tower of Davos.

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THE TALL SHIP AND THE SUBSTITUTE TEACHER – Part 3

by Ray Jason

QUESTIONS FOR THE WIND

In Part 1, I meet the captain of a Tall Ship who runs a Semester-at-Sea program. He has just lost his onboard teacher for a couple of weeks due to Covid quarantine. It turns out that he is a fan of my Blog, and so we agree that I will be his substitute teacher for a while.

In Part 2, I deliver my first full lecture to the 16 year old sailor/students. When it is finished, I let them take a 5 minute break before we do a question and answer session. Part 3 is that Q and A dialogue. Here it is.

Welcome back, shipmates! I am delighted to see that all 15 of you returned. My worldview is pretty radical, so I worry about freaking out my new students. Especially, when I don’t have a full school year to gradually introduce you to this material. But because the societal changes that are being initiated right now are so dangerous to your futures, I feel a duty to alert you to them.

We’ll keep the format simple. Raise your hand, I’ll point to you and then you can stand and ask your question. Since we are aboard a Tall Ship, let’s keep the questions short and specific – in the same way that Capt. Andy keeps his commands to you simple and precise.

If the Malignant Overlords are so bad, why don’t they get voted out of office?

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THE TALL SHIP AND THE SUBSTITUTE TEACHER – Part 2

by Ray Jason

NIGHT ON THE OCEAN

 In Part 1, I met the Captain of a Tall Ship who had lost his onboard teacher for a couple of weeks due to Covid quarantine. Coincidentally, he was a fan of my unconventional Blog, and we agreed that I would be his substitute teacher for a while. This is my second lecture to the kids, who are about 16 years old.

Good morning students and shipmates. I deliberately used the term “shipmates” because even though I am not an actual crew-member on the HENRY DAVID THOREAU, I am “one of you.”

That’s because we share an extraordinary bond. We have all savored the Big Ocean – or what I like to call the Wide Waters. When you are alone on a night watch, I suspect that you have been dazzled by how vast and gorgeous the Sea is. And perhaps you were also a bit frightened by how uncaring it is.

It is the dominant feature of our planet – taking up around 70% of its surface. And it is so interconnected, that waves that lap the shores of Panama may one day break on the beaches of Polynesia.

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THE TALL SHIP AND THE SUBSTITUTE TEACHER

by Ray Jason

A FICTIONAL EXPLORATION

The bartender gave me his nod that indicated something interesting was headed our way. I turned and watched as an old, but impeccably maintained wooden dory, approached the dock. At her oars were four attractive young people – two women and two men. In her stern was the Captain. I assumed this because he had the calm, confident air of one familiar with the joys and ordeals of command. He cordially said good-bye to his oarsmen and joined us at the bar.

“I’ll go out on a topsail yard and guess that you are from the tall ship anchored out there.”

“Indeed, I am. And I must say that this place looks as pleasant as my scouting party described her to me.”

“Are you saying that “Semester-at-Sea ships are now teaching waterfront bar reconnaissance as part of their curriculum?”

“It’s not a formal course, but it fits nicely into the Life Skills category. But they outdid themselves. Not only did they find a spot with the front on the water, but ALL SIDES are on the water. She is a genuine floating bar.”

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THERE IS NO WUHAN OCEAN

by Ray Jason
I intended to share this with TBP readers on the second anniversary of the posting of this essay at my blog.  However, I mistakenly thought the correct date was 17 March 2020 but it was actually 11 March 2020.  Regardless, it is interesting because I was one of the first to question whether it was all an enormous scamdemic. 
                                                              
For nearly a decade I have been using the internet in an attempt to persuade people that an ocean-going sailboat is the best defense against an increasingly fragile and volatile world. My contention has been that small groups of like-minded cruisers could band together to create Sea Gypsy Tribes.
These sailors would prepare their vessels to respond to any type of cataclysmic event. Regardless of whether it might be an economic collapse or a grid-down emergency or any other crisis, a well-equipped, any-ocean sailboat is the best escape pod.

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NEVER STOP RUNNING, NAPALM GIRL!

by Ray Jason

I wrote this in 2013, but as the lunatics in D.C. pound the war drums, it seems valuable to send it back out into the world again.

The Sea was mild and soothing as I sailed alone in the western reaches of the Caribbean. It had been four days since my last human contact. Such exile does not disturb me – it comforts me. The wind was light, and the waves were small and melodious – like the cello phrase in a string quartet.

Although quite relaxed, I was also vigilant, because my position was near the busy shipping lanes between the Panama Canal and the Yucatan Channel. Suddenly, I sensed a nearby hazard. My first scan of the horizon revealed nothing. On my second, more careful sweep, I saw her – a gray smudge of a ship, still half below the undulating cusp of the Earth. I took my binoculars from their rack and focused them. What I saw slammed me backwards – both physically and emotionally.  She was one of them – a gray, military transport vessel that was all too familiar to me. I had served aboard one – a U.S. Navy ammunition ship in Vietnam.

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THE SEA GYPSY PURE BLOODS

by Ray Jason

HOW DARK ARE THEIR PLANS?

Because our shrieking rulers are so fiercely demanding that all of us must be vaccinated, I suspect that they are concealing their true agenda. Previously, I assumed that it was just the age-old quest for money and power.

But now I believe that they intend to use these “vaccines” for much more sinister reasons. My fear is that their ultimate goal is the “cyborging” of humanity. Could it be that this mRNA technology actually re-programs the human operating system? Are they injecting us with compounds that will induce submissiveness, eliminate fertility, secretly track us and potentially even instantly terminate us through sound frequencies or light impulses?

Will those who have been vaxxed be altered – without their knowledge or permission – into a Humanity 2.0.? And will the anti-vaxxers be transformed from mere resistors against Tyranny, into the last remnants of the natural, biological and un-augmented Humanity 1.0?

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SOME HELPFUL HINTS ABOUT … DEATH

by Ray Jason

Can we talk? Can I lay a little hard love on you? It is becoming absolutely vital for you to cast off the chains of Thanatophobia. That is the term used in psychology to describe excessive fear of death.

Ever since we humans evolved (some would argue that we “devolved”) from our mostly egalitarian Hunter/Gatherer lifestyle into Civilization, we have suffered under an endless parade of tyrants. The main weapon that they use to enslave us is the fear of Thanatos or Death.

“Toil in my fields,” they insist, “or you will have no bread for your table.” “Send your sons to fight my wars,” they command, “or you will be over-run by barbarians.”

It took several thousand years to finally destroy the dominant paradigm under which the rulers crushed the little people. This was achieved through The Rule of Law and through the concept of Self-Government via elected leaders.

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A SEA GYPSY READS THE CLOUDS

by Ray Jason

Embracing the “Old Ways”

My education as an ocean sailor was an exquisite blessing. That’s because in my early days we still learned The Old Ways. Nearly a thousand years of hard-earned wisdom was generously passed along to those who wished to wander The Wide Waters.

We could read the clouds and decipher the probable weather for the next few days. We carried barometers, and knew that a rapid decline meant a churning hell of wind and waves was headed our way.

Tragically, that ability to “read the signs” was vaporized nearly overnight as electronic devices slithered aboard almost every boat. Mariners were no longer watching the Sea and the Sky for tell-tale clues. Instead, they were staring at screens.

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TACTICS AGAINST TYRANTS

by Ray Jason

As many of my readers know, I have lived a very contrary to ordinary life. During one of my more exotic chapters, I spent decades as a San Francisco street juggler. It was rewarding … in so many ways.

Often, I was asked to perform at benefits. Usually, I gladly did so. One of those events is firmly etched into my memory. It was an anniversary for the University of California at San Francisco Medical Center.

Just as I was about to go onstage in front of hundreds of children and their parents, I heard an unusual loud thumping sound. As I searched for the location of the noise, I witnessed an astonishing spectacle. Before me, I beheld a tightly-packed battalion of black-robed Grim Reapers. They marched silently and slowly to the solemn throbbing of a solitary drummer boy.

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DOMINO WISDOM

by Ray Jason

Years ago, I nick-named this modest little spot The Domino Triangle. It was too tiny for an actual building, so a tarp had been slung to provide shelter from the sun and the rain. Beneath it was a folding card table and some battered chairs, where the locals would play dominoes.

When the tropical heat would begin to lessen in the late afternoon, the men would start gathering. They arrived with beer and a little pocket money. They also brought something that is increasingly rare in our modern world – modest, earth-bound happiness.

Their conversations revolved around the elemental concerns of bedrock Humanity – too much work and not enough pay, the entertaining inscrutability of wives and girlfriends, and the follies of their grandchildren. Nobody was discussing how many pixels the next iPhone camera would have or the volatility of Bitcoin.

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THE HUMANITY HURRICANE

by Ray Jason

As a longtime ocean sailor, I abide by this simple but wise maxim: “Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst!” When the sky darkens and the sea swells, I ready my ship and myself for the possibility of “heavy weather.” By initiating basic precautions, I can greatly increase my chances of surviving even the most vicious tempest.

Besides sailing The Seven Seas, I have also spent much of the last decade voyaging on the Information Ocean. And all of that research has led me to conclude that a Category Six hurricane is rapidly bearing down on Humanity.

But this catastrophic storm is not being generated by Mother Ocean. It is being created by a tiny, ruthless, sliver of Humanity. I call these creatures The Malignant Overlords. They desire to re-shape Earth into a NEO-TECHNO-PLANTATION.

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THE SEA GYPSY TRIBE – PAST AND FUTURE

by Ray Jason

It has been nearly a decade since I first started sharing my Sea Gypsy Tribe concept on the World Wide Web. My belief is that ocean-going sailboats are the best survival platform for any catastrophe that might arise. And I am convinced that small groups of like-minded, well-prepared sailors banding together are an excellent option for dealing with disasters. That conviction remains as solid as a light-house.

However, something quite significant has changed during the intervening ten years. The scenarios that deeply concerned me back then have diminished in severity. But these have been replaced by even more frightening dangers.

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THE HUMAN LIGHTHOUSE

by Ray Jason

What a magnificent birthday gift I received this morning. As I sat on deck with my clipboard and pen, sorting out my thoughts for this essay, the nearby jungle erupted with the unmistakable barks of howler monkeys.

This bellowing symphony was made even more delightful by the fact that I could enjoy it despite my simple and spartan lifestyle. Had a Silicon Valley billionaire wished to experience the same primordial cacophony, not even the world’s best travel agent could guarantee it for him.

The throaty, but almost comical, howls of the monkeys also reminded me of an important philosophical lesson. If one seeks to lead a contemplative life, it is important to peel away the fleeting, transient elements of the human drama and focus on the enduring, permanent aspects.

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THE VOYAGE BEGINS

by Ray Jason

This is a fictional exploration of the near future.

 

It was the Field of Gold incident that convinced me that it was time. That was when I sailed away … probably forever.

For years, many truth-tellers had warned that there was a gigantic, half-hidden Evil steadily suffocating Humanity. Many pointed out that when the Malignant Overlords proclaimed that “You will own nothing, and be happy” this also meant that THEY would own everything … and be ecstatic. I was one of those who were shouting such warnings from the World-Wide Watchtowers.

But I was different. I could escape. This was not an accident. I had mastered the art of living aboard a self-sufficient sailboat that could flee to any of our ocean planet’s uninhabited islands. There are thousands of them. For years, I had been charting hundreds of possible options. I achieved this by gleefully using satellite images from the very same technocrats who were trying to enslave me.

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CHILDREN OF THE WIND

by Ray Jason

Scamper – yes, scamper – that’s the word I was searching for. The little Indio children were playing tag in a maze of mangrove roots, and I was looking for the perfect verb to describe their dexterity and speed as they chased each other. They were not running and they were not leaping – they were … scampering. And what made their game even more amazing, was the fact that they were doing this with bare feet.

While viewing this exquisite scene, in which raw Nature was their playground, how could I not contrast it with the “children’s recreation areas” of the so-called First World. Among the tangled branches and roots of this authentic jungle gym, there were many sharp spikes that taught them a valuable lesson. These kids learned to play with joy and abandon, but to also pay attention.

I marveled at the stark difference between this playground, which was literally growing out of the Earth and the Sea, and the plastic, rounded-edges, garishly-bright, child-safe playgrounds of El Norte. Once again, my beloved Archipelago of Bliss, with its primitive wisdom, seemed to offer better life lessons than the advanced societies.

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