Author: Ray Jason

GOING FOR THE GUIDESTONES

by Ray Jason

The realization hit me like a bolt of mental lightning. The bastards are GOING FOR THE GUIDESTONES! They are betting that their long campaign to dumb down the global population combined with their evil-eye surveillance grid, will now allow them to stomp Humanity into total submission.

These soulless predators, who I scornfully and gleefully, describe as our Malignant Overlords, are not particularly motivated by greed. They all have more than enough money. What they truly desire is POWER – the sickest variety – the type that allows them to utterly control the lives of ordinary people.

 Yet, even that is not enough to satisfy the desires of the most wicked of them. They find the common people so loathsome, that they would prefer to eliminate the vast majority of them. Their scheme is to transform the planet into a 21st century Techno-Feudalism – but with an enormously reduced population.

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INOCULATION HILL

Ray     Mid-Pacific 1990

by Ray Jason

Sailing alone through the night, on the deep ocean, under a big moon, is almost inconceivably sublime. A properly prepared boat, with well-trimmed sails, in a moderate breeze, is a quiet, purposeful being. The only noticeable sound is the song of the waves sliding along the hull. This serenity, this enormity, this solitude, provides the ideal haven for a wandering soul with a philosopher’s curiosity.

Although I rarely feel lonely on long passages, when I do need to conjure up a companion, my favorite shipmate is Henry David Thoreau. He is one of my life-long heroes; and my belief is that if he was alive today he too would choose the sea gypsy life as the best path to freedom and contemplation. This intuition was reinforced when I discovered a few years ago that his final words on his deathbed were, “Now comes good sailing!”

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SAILING INTO SOLITUDE

by Ray Jason

My little ship’s bow was pointed towards one of my favorite destinations. It is a tropical lagoon enclosed by the steep, lush hills of a full-climax jungle. But more importantly, I was also sailing towards a “state of mind.” This idyllic bay would provide me riches that are rarely savored in the low-grade mayhem that we call The Modern World. The treasures I was seeking were Simplicity and Solitude.

For twelve days and nights, I would bask in a hideaway so pristine that it had never been violated by a siren or a car alarm. There were very few humans and most of my immediate neighbors were creatures who live in the Sea and the Sky. Occasionally, a smiling local Indio paddled past in a hand-carved dugout canoe. The tranquility was so visceral, that when a boat powered by an outboard motor passed by, it was as jarring as a chain saw at a yoga retreat.

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A SEA GYPSY REVERIE

by Ray Jason

What a sweet, sublime awakening! Three of Mother Ocean’s timeless clocks gently stirred me from sleep. First, the boat shifted as the tide switched direction. Then the sun nudged just high enough to peek into one of AVENTURA’s portholes. And finally, a flock of wild parrots boisterously flew over the bay, swapping gossip and recipes.

I lay on my back wondering if the ship’s geckos were smiling as joyously as me. Probably not, since they were unaware of how happily emancipated I felt. Unlike so many of my fellow humans, I was not a slave to the Tyranny of Frenzy. The dictators of Speed and Stuff did not control me.

My plan had been to start a new essay this morning on some political or economic issue that was troubling me. But then I heard … the laughter in the mango tree. Three small cayucos were pulled up onto the beach of the little island where I was anchored. There were many tiny, one-tree islands in my neighborhood, but those all featured tall, skinny palm trees. But this one boasted an enormous mango tree. And today it had five giggling interlopers.

Up in the branches were two boys and a girl. They would vigorously shake the limbs trying to dislodge some of the ripe fruit. Down below a girl and a boy raced around with empty rice bags trying to catch the falling mangoes. After half an hour, the rice sacks were almost full and the kids came down from the tree. Then the five of them leaned their backs against their cayucos, stretched their bare feet into the water and savored a spring-time feast. The scene was so pure and idyllic that I could visualize Gauguin reaching for his easel and brushes.

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THE SOLACE OF HAIKU

by Ray Jason

It was a subtle, delicate, watercolor sunset. The sky was not ablaze with vivid reds and oranges battling for attention, but was a serene panorama of gentle saffron and peach. I was seated on AVENTURA’s cabin top with my back against the mast, drinking what I call Tarzan Tea. It is the water of a young coconut which I have just opened with my machete. My notepad and pen are within arm’s reach as I settle in for the last stage of my IMMERSION TIME.

It begins in the late afternoon with a vigorous swim followed by a very un-vigorous float. Lying on my back, buoyant and content in the salty Caribbean water, I am joyously mindful that I have sculpted my life to not just enjoy Nature or visit Nature – but to IMMERSE myself in it. I pull myself from the sea into my dinghy in one smooth and powerful motion. I am wet and sleek like my dolphin neighbors, and I feel strong and lithe and sensuous. My thoughts turn to the hundreds of millions of civilized humans, who are incarcerated in office cubicles, and who never get to experience such primal pleasure.

Back onboard AVENTURA, I reposition my plastic solar shower, which has been lying on the deck heating the sky water which flowed from my awning to my tank during last night’s squall. My refreshing hot shower uses less than two gallons of water, and while toweling myself dry, I recall one of my favorite Mark Twain aphorisms, “We have turned a thousand useless luxuries into necessities.” I chuckle at the realization that I am not just a right brain man in a left brain world, but I am also a solar shower guy on an iPod planet.

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SIMPLE CONSOLATIONS

by Ray Jason

It was the silhouette hour. A cayuco came paddling towards me in the deep dusk as I sat with my back against AVENTURA’s mast. The oarsman’s stroke was smooth and strong. There was a child in the back tending the fishing line as her dad rowed.

When they were 20 yards away I realized that it was not a father – it was a grandmother. Even though she was as ancient and weathered as her hand-carved cayuco, she propelled it like a man in the prime of his life. It was a joy to behold.

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WHAT WILL IT TAKE?

by Ray Jason

Wake up, Humanity! What will it take before you snap out of your trance and realize that this Wuhan Virus “pandemic” is the most malicious fraud ever devised. It is the only psychological operation that has been attempted on a global scale. Even World War I and World War II did not bludgeon the entire planet.

What will it take before you realize that when the “experts” look into the TV cameras and tell you that this is about your health, they are lying. This is about submission and domination. This is about confusing you and demoralizing you and completely breaking your spirit. How else do you explain their latest gleeful atrocity … anal swabs.

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STAYING HUMAN

by Ray Jason

A FICTIONAL MESSAGE FROM THE NEAR FUTURE

Is it possible that I can no longer laugh? I mean this literally. How long has it been since my last laugh? Certainly it has been years, but I cannot remember exactly how many.

What spurred this question was the little chuckle that I just experienced. It was prompted by the irony of my situation. Here I am, profoundly alone, striving to achieve one simple goal – to remain fully HUMAN.

In order to achieve this, I sailed to a place where no one would dare follow. My quest to survive as a free … biological … non-augmented … human being has taken me to Bikini Atoll. It is the remote location where they tested the hydrogen bombs – the most powerful weapons ever designed to kill humans.

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2020 – THE YEAR OF THE FROG

by Ray Jason


It is called The Boiling Frog Syndrome. Many of you have heard of it, but for those who have not, allow me to describe it. If you drop a frog into a pot of boiling water, it will instantly jump out and save itself. But if you place a frog into a pot of lukewarm water and slowly increase the heat, the frog will remain blissfully docile … right up until the point when it becomes a … deceased frog.

This little fable is the perfect metaphor for how our controllers are slowly but relentlessly stealing our freedoms and increasing their power. Using the Wuhan Virus as their justification, they have tossed the entire global population into a massive cauldron. As the heat rises, we are warmed and stupefied until we end up dazed and helpless. Then they can easily impose their Iron Fist of Power.

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A SEA GYPSY CHRISTMAS

by Ray Jason

It is Christmastime down here in the Banana Latitudes. Far to the north in the Frenzied Latitudes, the shoppers are body-slamming each other with vigor and venom. In a little Panamanian town square, I savor the sight of the Indio families in from the hills letting their children marvel at the lights and the decorations. Compared to El Norte, it is all so calm and unhurried and moderate. Surely gifts will be exchanged on the big day, but there is none of the fevered gluttony for stuff that soils the holidays in the First World.

As I leave the park to head back to AVENTURA, a faint, sweet music whispers from the little chapel across the street. I cross over and answer its call. It is a choir of children practicing Christmas carols. The beauty and innocence on their faces is enough to inspire a Leonardo to reach for his canvas and brushes. I am spellbound by the sound of these old English folk songs exquisitely rendered in Spanish. Their last song is a playful version of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

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MESMERIZED

     When the world weighs heavily upon me, I find comfort in a modest little cafe that overlooks an even more modest little park, here in the Archipelago of Bliss. Many people would probably describe it as a run-down, dilapidated park. But I love it because it is a refuge from the frenzy and artificiality of El Norte.

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THE SHADOW SAILOR

      It was time to visit The Shadow Sailor. He might have answers. If not, he would at least know if I was asking the right questions.
       My five months of researching this Wuhan Virus, was taking me down dark and disturbing paths. He would know if I was sailing off the edge.
       He is a man with no country. Although he has visited many, his passport shows few stamps. He enters and departs independently – and illegally. He is a master at finding hidden coves that the authorities rarely visit. But he emphasizes that although he lives in the Shadows, they are quite bright and they provide him health, freedom, happiness and meaning.
       I found him through a serendipitous accident. Whenever there is a nice sunset here in The Archipelago of Bliss, I celebrate it with with some fresh-squeezed orange juice, a pinch of lime and a spot of rum. Then I sit on deck watching the day depart and the evening descend.

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