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.


Questions, comments, concerns, threats? Contact me:

Ooohh Peru

When I arrived in Oruro yesterday it was like a ghost town. Everything closes down from 12 until 230 so of course that was when I was there. I was exhausted from maybe 1 hour of sleep in the mountains and thought I could stop the race for a night. Drove around the town looking for a moto mechanic but could not. Went to the best hotel in Oruro for 20 bucks a nite and despite exhaustion had a shower then went back out to start searching. It was a dumpy hotel by any other countries standards but bolivia is a tough place. All around people yelling la paz la paz la paz or cochacochabamba to lure people to their buses. Had some chicken at a chinese restaurant and found some sunscreen face was sun and wind burnt as my lotion fell out 3 days earlier. my face started tingling everytime after I got off the bike. So, I found the mechanic and he musta been 100 years old but he was kind. I waited, maybe an hour then found another passerby who directed me to a nice store that had stp fuel treatment. I put that in the tank, and took it for a ride. Give us the keys the mechanic said I will return I replied. The stp didn´t seem to make a difference so I had a choice. I decided to trust the mechanic, be clear about me leaving the next day early and that 5 til 7 was all we had. The carbs covers weren´t even off at 7 and a younger guy was dusting them off. Return at 8 he said. So I went down the street to the market where there were many traditional bolivian women selling fruit, wearing big bell dresses down to ankles, multiple layers of wool sweaters, usually a bright blanket of pink and green wrapped around the shoulders and the crown, a brown felt bowler sitting high on the head. Lest we forget th ponytails, i believe they grow them from childhood until death, so they get very long. The mechanic finished about 9. he had put a copper filament from electrical wire into the jet of the carbs. said it would help with less oxygen at the altitude. At the highest, I was at 4500 m, and in Oruro about 3800. Whaled down the street to check, and it seemed much better. An amazing sleep with 3 thick grey wool blankets and woke up about 7. got everything together, went down to the store to get tyre repair, gas, and was off at 10. La Paz proved easy because of asking directions twice i got onto the right road in 15 minutes. But then, I went too far, and was heading the way of Copacabana, which mom had said be prepared for very long waits at the border. So I wanted to go the south route Laja etc so about 18 km turnaround and 3 preguntas or questions in spanish. Reached the border in an hour, and was in peru officially by 5 pm. Then, I hit the hail. Couldn´t believe it, and happened so quickly had no time to change helmets and got pelted hard for about an eternity, or 3 minutes. Peering through one eye, and to the side of the windshield, I could see blue sky and salvation. Now, i am heading in the direction of Puro, Arequipa, and Lima. The mechanic destroyed the wire that connects the wheel to the speedometer, odometer and tripometer as he didn´t put enough slack in the wire when he remounted the tank. I was angry with the old fart and would strangle him right now but my acceleration is really good, and a good day of riding. So now its Motorcycle Diaries, estimating mileage and distance as I go, until I can find another one but not before Lima, 1200 km away. Btw I am straight west of La Paz.


I feel like i have never been so cold in my life. Brings me back to my first night of travel, 7 months ago driving through Jasper in the rain and cold. i came through Cochabamba, a strange city with brownish red adobe style houses built all around the mountain sides, then super modern expressways downtown. Drove through a market to get clear lensed glasses, found a guy who I followed to the exit out of the city, then filled up with gas. The road in two words dangerous curves. I made it 100 km then had to stop because I was so cold. At an elevation of 4500 metres, i could see my own breath. there i camped, and there it rained again although I chose a puddle only a half inch deep this time. The weather worsened as I went, and saw a mountain side house saying they sold gas. i stayed there 2 hours to warm up and add 5 layers of clothes. the guy who helped me in cochabamba saw my bike and stopped he had left the city at 3 am to go do some business and was on the way back. pics with him and his wife and cousin. Weather improved and in oruro now need to check spark plugs air filter and carbs not much power over 80km per hour. Forget about la paz its higher and colder. going from here to chile fronterra then north from there. need some warm.

A Little Ch Ch Ch Chilly Co Co Comin Thru The Pass

it was a clear night ful of stars when i left the restaurant about 9. Mercedes the cute server with a stud in her lip chatted quickly but she was busy. I told her only one beer but it turned into two just so i could talk to her some more. actually the band was really good as well, witha phenomenal woman singer who performed an Mexiocan song i remember from marivy´s about men being cockroaches. i was on the road again.

the first spot i picked to camp seemed to have good coveratge and a level spot for the bike without getting stuck. there was a path there up into the woods with a fenceƱ seemed a farmer´s field. i pulled the bike backwards to get it into place, but iwas hard work so I repositioned. as I did that, I dropped the bike. I dropped it again, and thats when a dog started barking. my position was sdiscovered and i had to find another place. the dog sounded like he was right ther.

half a km down the road there was a sand pile high enough tot cover me from lights both directions. pretty proud of myself. i set everything up, and despite my flat mattreess felt very comfortable. it took a while for me to get to sleep but i did eventually because i woke up a few times in the night holding up the tnet to avoid the heavy rain. i muset have sensed something worng but went back to sleep. at 3 am after it rained all this time i realz


The bellboy knocked on my door about 9 pm and said there were some kids drinking in the park across the street, and that I should move my bike. I got dressed and went downstairs to take a look. I asked him where the other choice was and he put this piece of metal on the step at a 45 degree angle and said here. I thought a minute and remembered who i decided to be on this trip and said no thanks, no molestar aqui, or that I wasn´t worried about anyone bothering it.

Drillbit Taylor was on in Spanish, and I went to sleep.

The bike was still there the next morning. The bellboy noticed my front tire was flat i thought it was just because of how it was parked on the edge of the cement. When I moved it back, the front end was very heavy. Another person said it was flat. Ok agreed. Did someone pull a prank and leak it? There was a calling card saying Villamontes taped to the windshield and I thought for sure that´s what happened. I drove away after saying goodbye and a few people wanted pictures. Asked another fellow where some air is, and he motioned for me to follow him. There was a 16 year old on the side of the road with a compressor. I stopped and he was a friendly kid asking all sorts of questions. I gave him 20 bolivianos twice as much as he asked for. Its about 3 bucks.

260 km later, I stop on the road for a break. The tire feels heavy again. Oh no. I remember the tire repair can I bought back in Venezuela and carefully insert it onto the stem. It worked.

I loath going into cities in the evenings but I had to. I got into Santa Cruz about 4 oclock. After several questions around, I found another young guy at a dirty roadside shack, between 4 blocks of roadside shacks. Traditional Bolivian women with two ponytails and long skirts abound. Sexy!

I ask him if he can do it, and he smiles and say yes. How much. Depends. Mas o Menos. 15 bolivianos about 2 bucks. Then the boss comes out a dirty little fellow resembling a bolivian patrick swayze dirt from head to toe, wearing flip flops and a gold tooth. They set to work. The neighbour gets me a coke, although I originally thought he was a halfwit kinda guy. He and his wife ran the shack next to it and were really nice and friendly. Ended up buying the coke he protested I insisted then an empanada banana and cornbread all for 1 buck.

The tire was back on the bike in a little over 20 minutes. This little guy was an artiste with the tire, and he quickly yet meticulously found the leak, and the culprit. Cost? 3 bucks. I doubled it, feeling like Bill Gates in Africa doling out the millions. The culprit? A piece of metal the size of the end of a pencil lead.

On to Cochabamba........

Bolivia By God

The first Bolivians I encountered were golden. Edgar, his new wife of 1 year and her two kids own a roadside stand that happens to be right beside immigration. It was about 8 o´clock at night and the immigration officer was fast asleep which was fine because I was so ready to do the same. 60 km of Bolivian road was gravel, yet much better than the sand (spanish arena sp.?)encountered earlier backtracking from northern Paraguay. Certainly the regular problems at customs but after I asked him about his president, he even let me unsuccessfully try to connect to internet. This morning, a bus arrived as expected for Paraguay, and glad I had my bike parked in front of my tent. Edgar, his brother, and uncle, kids and wife eventually all came over and we spoke at length about Bolivia and Canada. All my canadian stickers were ready to be thrown in the garbage from my leaking oil container in the cooler, but I used them up on Edgar´s shack. Then, another 60 km to the next town, but the map was again misleading, as I had to retrack 20 km once I hit the pavement to go the opposite direction. I saw the sun was on the wrong side, so I asked two cowboys which way to Villamontes and sure enough wrong way. The massive logs dropped on the highway were not a deterrent or a signal of something wrong, as I had just gone through the worst roads in 7 months. Luckily stopped to take a picture and noticed my side bag had fallen off and was being dragged behind me. Mattress ruined.

Feel genuinely proud of myself for the first time in the journey, as I feel the past 48 hours have tested me beyond my limits, and I got through it in one piece. Very satisfying feeling and again if the journey must end now I would be severely disappointed but happy in my accomplishment.


The day started off well, saying farewell to the over 20,000 spiders as big as my pinky that had spun 100s of interconnected webs, catching most everything small and able to fly. Quite an amazing unexpected display of nature´s raw power and lack of emotion. Luckily, Jorge, sporting a rifle, had some, and asked before shooting me why I was there. It was an ideal location just 50 metres from the roadside but hidden with a great deal of foliage, and yet a clear spot for the tent.

Plenty of gas stations and I´m wondering if Michael wasn´t a bit overcautious about the state of Paraguay roads. Although the quality degraded severely, it was still rideable pavement with good stretches. Good fortunes continued, as I stopped at a gas station and was told immigration and customs were actually THERE, 250 km before the border. I would´ve had to drive all the way back...... The guy looked kinda american, and the girl was a coin collector so I dumped a handful of coins from all over central and south america on the counter. She was happy and surprised.

150 km later, I was expecting the gas station they promised me but now the pavement is gone, and I´m driving on a pretty shitty dirt road. That shitty dirt road turned into sand, then space for two trucks either direction, then one small car one direction. The tracks were so deep and the edges were so hard I could´ve broken a leg trying to stay upright. The places I fell were graciously open enough to avoid it. 3 times.

Then, a sign saying 34 km to the border. I see colors down the road and I think it´s a person and I hear horses hooves. Good sign. One guy peers behind a tree down the road and I wave and say ola. They take forever to meet me and I speak spanish. My spanish was rough, having speaking portuguese only for 3 months straight. They didn´t understand a word. I didn´t think it was THAT rough.

I felt nervous, and said goodbye. I could only go 30km-hr so it took 5 minutes to go 500 metres or so it felt. Then, more people, more nervousness. Finally a child flags me down with something and I decide to stop. I then realize these are indigena, and they speak only Guarani. I do what any nervous north american does and give him 10000 guarani or about 2.50. I thought he was selling me his mask, but he was apprehensive about giving it to me. I will keep that mask with me to remember how stupid I was.

I put my finger on the push start and it sounds like I have no gas left. My tank is under all my bags. So I get up to start pulling everything apart and now there are over 20 people standing there staring. One guy with a gun and a bag of dead pigeons he killed with a slingshot. He speaks spanish. I ask if I can have a photo. No. When I´m filled up, I go around and shake everyone´s hand, kids and all. And I´m off again.

Another 5 minutes and I´m at the military post, and there´s a metal fence stopping me from going further. One guy speaks some english. There´s some kind of masculine, feminine going on, as one has his shirt off, and another has his 70s style short shorts hiked up around his pelvis. The shirtless guy says speak spanish. I do my little dance and look them all in the eyes answering all their questions. I ask for some water, and they give me a full cold 2 L bottle.

They said there was no gas at the next town, and there was possibly 200 km of sand before the next town after that. Now I´m screwed. With only enough gas to go about 50 km I was seriously stuck. They suggested asking the guarani if they had gas. Ok good idea I´ll go back. Then the shirtless guy says something about camera. Yes I have a camera, but I looked around and couldn´t find it. I thought it was a joke they were playing. Actually I had left it at the guarani village, and a kid had walked all the way to tell me.

So I turned back, and cut through the forest to go directly to their village. At a side road, I looked left, and saw all of them waiting for me on the main road. I went over there, and indeed they were all keeping watch on the bag with camera, laptop and money all intact. Some of the people had cross eyes and I was seriously feeling like I was in the movie Deliverance, Paraguayan style. Had to be some inbreeding there in a small isolated village.

I asked about the gas and he pondered deeply then said yes come to my house. half way there, we´re talking about things and he mentions the tractor. I stop. You know my moto takes gasolina not diesel right? Theres often a gap with my spanish understanding but I made that really clear. He pondered again, assured me not with a lot of confidence, and we continued walking.

What a surreal experience. This wasn´t your national geographic village. Everyone was wearing tshirts and jeans, but the surroundings were amazing. We walked through a tall clover like field over a hill, past the slingshot hunters house whose wife was plucking the small pigeons he had shot, then this man´s house. He must have been the leader because he had a small tank covered with a black plastic bag. He sucked the gas up and started the vacuum into a 2 L pop bottle. Smelled like gasoline. On our walk back he was suggesting I sleep at the militaria because of the arena. I didn´t know what that was but I hoped it wasn´t a jaguar or banditos.

We returned to the 20 people waiting at the bike. It was also a defining moment, being stared at by these strange people. I must have looked strange too tall, kinda white but full of dirt with this kinda shiny strange machine. After the fill up I had to ask them to push the bike back out of the sand to get to the main road.

Then the journey continued. My arms and legs were spent from the 4 hours of sand that day, so I stopped every 10 km. That took 20 minutes. On my 2nd 10 km, I was laying on the ground in pain and exhaustion. I saw some lights come up, and thought I was in no position to meet a malcontent. I would´ve had to give them everything and put my hands in the air. It was actually the one truck I had seen all day on that sandy road returning. I waved hello, and was eager to have him pass me so I could continue. We talked for awhile, and he said there was gas at La Patria, and I thought it was about another 50 km. We said goobye.

By the time I had all my gear on, his taillights got closer and closer to me. I´m not sure about that gas station he said in spanish. I was too tired to listen anymore finally he said siga me (follow me) then he said you go ahead, and when I flash my lights, thats my turn. about 4 km we turned left and Jose Migueletes stopped the truck after the gate, which his wife got out to close for us. What is arena I asked. Sand. Uh huh.

We drive for 10 km and I´m thinking its taking all my gas just to get to his house. His road was better, but I could only go about 50 km-hr. Another 10 and we´re finally there. We get into his house and we talk for a couple hours, with some wine and pimento. I recognized his Spanish accent from Spain. He bought this section of 70,000 hectares 3 years ago and now they are ripping it apart to make cattle fields. Jaguars and cobras are killed on site. Only the biggest trees stay in this pristine but bug filled part of the country. Biggest producer of cattle in the world in Paraguay. All going to Mcdonalds I´m sure. He´s about 45 and his wife is get this 17. common in Paraguay. Love the guy big time but I can´t help wonder about the extent of devastation in these unknown areas, and how much we really consider this when we eat our mcdonalds hamburger.

The next day, after as good a sleep as can be expected, I walk out and see all of Joses workers looking at the bike. Pretty soon the truck came over and they were filling the tire with air. Then, there´s air sounds coming out of the valve. I was floored and crushed. What am I going to do? The nearest yamaha dealership is in assuncion 800 km away. Then I changed my mind and put my faith in the situation.

Jose said bring the bike under the verandah. It was cooler there. The mechanic guy a short fellow with flip flops had us lift the bike up and put it on some shaky blocks. then he´s ripping the tire off. I look at his eyes and their really red. I wanted to pull jose aside and say are you kidding me he´s totally drunk or hung over he can´t do this! but I didn´t. It was tough getting the tire off the rim without proper tools but it happened. Then the leak was discovered to be in the worst place according to Jose. The stem. We took it back to the mechanic, and he looked at it, and went over to his house for the umpteenth time. i learned patience.

He came back with some wire, and wrapped it tightly around the stem. What about the metal digging into the tire I asked. No problema. Tire remounted, and then the bike won´t run unless on full choke. ´

Lets have lunch jose says.

I think about the bike for those 10 minutes and get back after some wine and pimento. Still couldn´t get it. Jose was the idea guy. clean the spark plugs? we couldn´t find a tool to get them out. Air filter? clogged FULL of sand. Washed it out. Still the same. I get frustrated and take it for a drive. I think the tribal gas is bad. I remembered a strange hissing sound when I moved the bike after we filled it there that never happened before. After a tough drive around the settlement, same problem.

Its early afternoon now, and I stop at the mechanics house. He was sleeping. He finds the same valve that Luiz in Mexico adjusted and boom that did it. Shitty gas needs a richer blend I guess. Said goodbye and faced the long road back to the pavement.
50 km away from assuncion borrowed michaels phone nice sleep in farmers field last nite. Desert after here and bad roads might not talk for couple days but very happy and doing what i want. Love j

Solitary Man

I let go of any movie purchasing choices tonight, and prepared to watch one with Kike and Tati. It was Solitary Man starring Michael Douglas. It was a surprising mirror into my own life, and the pull between opposing worlds. The director did not hand feed any happy ending, and was able to leave me to make my own decision about the movie, and accordingly about my own life. As I embark for Paraguay, I do feel clearer about making decisions that have nothing to do with anyone else, and separating my ego from me.

Our Brazilian TV interview

Fazenda to Farm

650 hectares of beautiful farmland, and 208 cows. Corn and soy are planted in the summer, wheat, and barley in the winter. Several pieces of equipment, as well as over 15 men to operate and help on the farm. The adjacent farm has over 4000 hectares, and borders on a dam. The smell of the harvest took me back to the days my mom and I would take lunch out to my dad when he was working in the fields. I wanted to walk the whole stretch of it.

Party Time

I know how to deal with people. I deal with myself. That is how. The discomfort, the physical sensations, the crazy thoughts, the impulse to either please or push away, all in one bundle called Jason and people. I wouldn't take all the times back where I screwed up; it certainly has made me more compassionate to others with loose lips and strange behaviours. We're all scared of people, we just deal with it differently. We all want to be loved and accepted.

Both Joao's and Kike's dads were inspirations for these thoughts. Older guys who have been steadily successful in long careers. Both calm, very calm and very comfortable to be around. I'm sure they don't always feel like being around people, but they do it anyways, and deal with it on their own terms. Just like the rest of us.

There's a time and place to be a jackoff. There's a time and place to blurt something out. There's a time and place to try and be funny. Save that for the family and close friends, and then at that, there's really no need for it. People will accept me as long as I give them space to live in their own world without feeling a cringe whenever they walk by me. Most people will not tell you if you've upset them, they will just stop dealing with you. So, the key to success with the general population is to not even go there. Life isn't about constantly proving if someone likes you or not.

I also remembered the healing power of deep breathing. All of what I've learned in the last almost 7 months go down the drain when I'm in pain. Pain is a direct result of a lack of oxygen to that part of the body. Anxiety and stress are both a cause and effect of short shallow breathing, which makes the whole experience that much more intolerable, as well as harmful to the body, causing pain after the long term.

So, how will I celebrate, and practice my new found calm and peaceful skills? Well, Kike's friend owns a nice restaurant, so we'll go there. Then, maybe a pub and some talking in a language I hardly know but will resort to english if need be - lots of them speak it here.


Faccin Logistica


A cold wake-up call here in Guarapuava and a taste of what is to come. 16 degrees and wind feels pretty damn cold when you have been in 30, 35 C for 6 months. We leave for Curitiba now to check out the city, see some of Kike`s trucks, and get his separated shoulder checked out. He didn`t bother paying for insurance since he got back from Canada, so will have to pay $$$$ himself.

So Nice

It's a nice city here and feels like home. Kike, my host and old student, is just an awesome host and I'm not surprised how calm and collected a guy he is - an inspiration as a business owner and all-around good guy. He's taken me to a German settlement, a museum, and introduced me to so many of his friends....... truly relaxing and comfortable. Tonight we watch one of the best Brazilian movies of all time.
i've taken a rare change in route plans, and will not be going through to Buenos Aires after all. i realized and accepted I am quite tired, and am ready to come home. I've reached my goal of Rio, and everything after this is just a bonus anyways. This will also allow me to relax here in Kike's home before the long ride back.


Arrived here 12 hours later than expected but feel peaceful here reminded of BC AB rockies and one hour between towns. Its another reunion with an old student Keke will be nice

It's Me

A humbling, tear-inducing, and lol-making reunion with Joe, Salmon, and Choods. Two students, and one fellow teacher taught me about the long-term, and far-reaching effects we as humans have on each other. They were all so happy to see me, and I them. I laughed so hard at Choods humour that, like mine, was so gross and disgusting. What a complete and utter relief to express that energy outside and laugh and laugh and laugh. They were able to break through this haze of loneliness and self-imposed isolation through toilet humour and teasings. Such a relief to experience people as resilient, and able to take or handle whatever I say or do, and such a sadness to think I denied people my own personality thinking they would not be able to handle the gargantuan mess of Jason Dale Chapman. I threw away my personality for people, and then became angry, and depressed that I still felt unacceptable.

I remember hiding in my bedroom whenever visitors came over to the house. I would stand between my bed and the door, as long as they were there, listening intently to the conversations of relatives and family friends, hoping somehow to hear of an opportunity for me to release myself from my self-imposed prison of self-consciousness, anxiety and worry. My parents really had no idea, but in my mind, everyone knew about Jason. I couldn't really hide anywhere.

I realized after 30 some years, here in Sao Paulo, that my entire adult life has been about waiting behind that door, hoping someone would say the right thing, or pull me out into the world. It was me the whole time. I created the fear, I created the worry, and I created a lifetime of waiting for life to magically save me from myself.

Social skills ARE the highest, most valuable skill, and learnable ability we have as humans, and yet there is not one formal course offered in public schools today. Kids are meant to figure it out on their own, and if they don't, well....... we won't talk about that. Depression, anxiety, suicide, mental health disorders are all directly related to the internal world that exists while one person is in another person's company. We are social creatures, and all hell can break loose if we have not learned a healthy way of coping with our need to be close, and our need to be alone.

Welfare systems do give those of us a safety net in Canada to get back up on our feet, but what of those who are on the system for the rest of their lives? They are destined to be confined in their own prison, afraid to open the door, and afraid to stay where they are. We have huge and powerful minds that, like a horse, need to be run. So lets spend our money on building workplaces for those people who do not have money. At least we are creating something of value, as well as giving these people a much needed opportunity to get outside of themselves and do something for the good of society.

Now, my southern journey is almost at an end. 25,000 km and 6 1/2 months. I am clearer than ever that no magical princess is going to rescue me, and i am done waiting for some prophet to clear me of my physical, emotional and mental pain. It will be a moment, by moment journey of training myself to live in this world, and to finally be receptive to it's gifts. There will be much pain ahead of me I know this. It is a necessary battle to learn to cope with that too.

Bill Maher Quotes

just being lazy tired of hearing my own thoughts so I'll pass it over to my friend Bill tonight for some brilliance............

A lot of good has come from drugs. I think 'Penny Lane' is worth 10 dead kids. Dark Side of the Moon is worth 100 dead kids. Because a lot of kids wouldn't even be born if it weren't for that album, so it evens out.

Clinton left the White House with all the class of an XFL halftime show.

Curious people are interesting people, I wonder why that is.

Everything that used to be a sin is now a disease.

Fame has sent a number of celebrities off the deep end, and in the case of Michael Jackson, to the kiddy pool.

Hi, I'm Bill. I'm a birth survivor.

I do think the patriotic thing to do is to critique my country. How else do you make a country better but by pointing out its flaws?

I don't want my president to be a TV star. You don't have to be on television every minute of every day - you're the president, not a rerun of 'Law & Order'. TV stars are too worried about being popular and too concerned about being renewed.

I never thought I'd say this, what Obama needs in his personality is a little George Bush.

I think capital punishment works great. Every killer you kill never kills again.

I think flying planes into a building was a faith-based initiative. I think religion is a neurological disorder.

If you think you have it tough, read history books.

Iraq now says that it will, after all, destroy its missiles. President Bush said, 'Please, I used to pull the same trick. There'd be an intervention, I'd make a big show of pouring out the liquor and then there was a case under the floorboards.'

It's all been satirized for your protection.

Jim Bakker spells his name with two k's because three would be too obvious.

Kids. They're not easy. But there has to be some penalty for sex.

Let's face it; God has a big ego problem. Why do we always have to worship him?

Let's make a law that gay people can have birthdays, but straight people get more cake - you know, to send the right message to kids.

Maybe every other American movie shouldn't be based on a comic book. Other countries will think Americans live in an infantile fantasy land where reality is whatever we say it is and every problem can be solved with violence.

Men are only as loyal as their options.

Eu sou paulista

almost 500 km to Sao paulo made in fine fashion, and safe at joao's house, my old student from Tamwood. He loves to call me old man. After this journey so far, I can be called anything. He says I've lost some weight. I definitely think so.

It was wonderful to reconnect. He' s a young, strong, bull-headed man ready to do what he has to, without any fear or thought as to consequences of humanity's actions, unlike me. We're somewhere above the 20th floor, and I had thoughts of jumping. I wouldn't, although I locked the patio door in case I tried in my sleep. It's challenging to hold two opposing views of the world directly in my own mind. The capitalist and the communist. I really want the world to settle down. Stop. stop going. But it won't. It just won't. Nobody, or nothing will stop it. It is an anthill of activity. This city of 23 million is just one of 6.5 billion. That is a big number. Jelly beans that could fill 1o skyscrapers, and each one of them ready to die for a new dress, or a new car, or a new house.

Am I just afraid of competition? Am I simply feeling inadequate? Would I feel differently if I was a high-powered lawyer with a bevy of beautiful models at my beck & call? Were I Charlie Sheen, would I really care about how much garbage one little human being produces?

This upset has to go somewhere. Stop caring. Stop carrying the world on my shoulders. Let it be.

I've heard a thousand people's advice over the years. I can only take from one: create my own life, in my own vision, and do what I feel is best. That is powerful to me.

Healing Meditations

Healing Ourselves
Sit or lie down, breathe, and relax deeply. Starting with your toes, feet, legs, pelvis and so on, put your attention on each part of your body in turn and tell it to relax and let go of any tension. Feel all tension dissolving and draining away.

If you wish to, do the meditation on opening the energy centers in order to get your energy really flowing.

Now imagine golden, healing light energy all around your body....... feel it.......sense it....enjoy it.

If there is a particular part of your body that has been ill or in pain, ask that part of you whether it has a message for you. Ask whether there is something you need to understand or to do, right at this moment or in your life in general.

If you get an answer, do your best to understand and follow it. If you don't get an answer, just continue with the process.

Now send special loving, healing energy to that part of you, and any part of you that needs it, and see or feel it being healed. You may want to have your guide, or any master or healer, there to help you do the healing.

Picture the problem dissolving and flowing energy away, or whatever iage works for you.

Now imagine yourself in perfect, radiant, natural good health. Think of yourself in different situations feeling good, active and healthy. See yourself as divinely, radiantly beautiful.


I have now transcended all patterns of illness. I'm free and healthy!

I am now full of radiant health and energy.

I love and accept my body completely.

I am good to my body, and my body is good to me.

I am energetic and full of vitality.

My body is balanced, in perfect harmony with the univverse.

I give thanks for ever increasing health, beauty, and vitality.

I am a radiant expression of God. My mind and body now manifest divine perfection.

Videos of my journey