This blog's for ME

Almost 25 years old, asking my parents if I can sleep in their bed with them. I had thought I was going to be the 25th Prime Minister of Canada. Things had changed. 10 years later, I was still a scared little boy. The time had come to slap myself awake. One Saturday morning, November 19th, 2009, I declared to the world I would be riding my 10 year-old motorcycle from Vancouver, BC Canada to Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, and back.

The official departure was August 28th, 2010. A group of well-wishers saw me off at 8:03 am.

I arrived in Rio de Janeiro around 6 pm March 1st, 2011.



My return to Vancouver came on July 5th, 2011 about 2:00 pm.

Drug & alcohol abuse, ADD, social anxiety, health, chronic pain, night terrors.

So many concerns. But I am far more interested in this question: Do I have the capacity to make this trip despite all my shortcomings?

My mission: To inspire myself to face my fears, enlighten myself on how all living things can peacefully co-exist, enjoy every moment, and see the world as plentiful and generous.

Go ahead. Call me crazy. Call me anything you like.

I'm out to save my world.



I LOVE YOU ALL



Questions, comments, concerns, threats? Contact me: jason.chapman99@gmail.com


Very Close


I almost died. If not dead, severly injured. Trip would be over. Without insurance, it would have been a nasty mess, a nasty nasty experience to finish this life changing journey. Jail? Hospital? Deaths? It would have been a hell of a way to finish this.

It all started with dogs. The dead ones littering roads had increased sharply since I hit Venezuela, although it had been a common site ever since the mexico uS border. I had been thinking I would like to write a story about these dead dogs, and had decided I would stop the next time I saw one and take a photo for it. Well I finally found one, and even noticed another dog laying there in the grass waiting for it to wake up. My human emotions were firing and dreaming of a wonderfully poignant dog love story. I check both sides of the road, and turn around, driving back towards the dead dog and it’s supposed mate. I had my ipod on, and wondering about what I would write about when a car swerves back into the left lane barely missing me. I stop, and face the music.

Much finger waving. Disappointment. The car of 4 were in a state of much shock and fear of what could have been. Turns out I didn’t see or hear him come up behind me, he thought I was just being slow, and just as he was about to pass me, I start turning around, forcing him to move abruptly back into his lane. I apologize profusely and take full responsibility. I feel immense shame and disappointment in myself and start berating.

But wait. Do I really have to beat myself up over this? Is that really necessary? Yes, I could have died. Yes it was a stupid careless mistake, but so what if I had died? People die. People get killed. People make mistakes. Why should I always hold myself in this perfect regard, beating myself up for being human? Of course I’d be listening to music........ 19000 km of lonely road, and it’s the only company I had most times. This driver snuck out of nowhere on an empty lonely road, and we we would have both been spun into this most upsetting of webs had something bad happened.

I realized life wasn’t about avoiding something happening anymore. It was about moving on, doing the best i could to learn from it, and moving on, moving up , moving ahead. Stopping for the briefest of moments only tempts the desire to live in the past, and not in the present. I’ve lived a lifetime living safely in my bedroom; I would rather die out on the road, than die a slow death in those 4 walls. But why had I made my life so complicated? Why had I made it so hard on myself? Why had I put myself in this position of a life of certain pain & suffering, and thankful death out on the Venezuelan highway? A choice had to be made. It was time to let go of my past, or be the past really quickly. Wake up! Wake up ! Wake up!!!!!

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