Monday, September 30, 2013


by Ray Jason

Deep ocean full moon
It has been 23 years since a mystical experience jolted my consciousness.  But the memory of that event remains so vivid, that it could have been only 23 seconds ago.  AVENTURA and I were Westbound in the immense Pacific.  There was no land within a thousand miles in any direction. 
Several dolphins had surrounded us, but they were behaving in a strange manner.  Instead of frolicking in the bow wave as they normally do, they were repeatedly circling from bow to stern.  I tried to decipher this, and guessed that they were pointing out the majestic full moon looming directly ahead.  Or perhaps they were agitated by the

Sunday, September 22, 2013


by Ray Jason

The chicken is in the cayuco
         My new neighbors seem to like me.  This is quite lovely - because they are dolphins.  And it is even more wondrous because they are a mother and her child.  Today is the fourth morning in a row that they swam a lazy circle around my boat. 
Each day I greet the sunrise with an enthusiastic blast from my conch shell.  It connects me with my post-civilized, feral self.  It also seems to amuse the nearby creatures of the sea and the sky.  No people are disturbed, because I am the only human animal in the vicinity.  More importantly, it attracts the mom and her baby dolphin.  They arrive just after I serenade the sun with my tribal horn.
Yesterday, the little Indio boy who sells me fresh coconuts from his tiny cayuco, also brought along a live chicken.  Although he offered her at a good price, I declined.  But I did buy some of her eggs.  Their yolks are so intensely

Monday, September 9, 2013


by Ray Jason

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.