Wednesday, March 25, 2015


by Ray Jason           

 It was a lovely sight in a glorious setting.  In one direction the primal jungle spilled down the hillsides to the sea.  And in the opposite direction it swept up the mountainsides until it was replaced by evergreen forest as it neared the slumbering volcano.  In the foreground a small armada of cayucos was departing the tiny village as the Indio children paddled home from school.  Their joyous chatter and laughter as they propelled themselves effortlessly across the water was echoed in the sky by the wild parrots that never seem to fly without gossiping enthusiastically. 
This tableau perfectly symbolized the upside-down sense of superiority that the First World lords over the Developing World.  At this exact moment in thousands of towns in El Norte, the soccer moms were waiting in long lines for school to let out.  They were en-bubbled in their massive, air-conditioned SUVs about to safely transport their children home.  They need these steel security pods because their “advanced Civilization” has become so perverse that human predators make it dangerous for children to walk or bike to school, like I used to do.     

Tuesday, March 10, 2015


by Ray Jason           

 The deep serenity down here in the Archipelago of Bliss soothes and inspires me.   Sometimes AVENTURA and I find a tiny lagoon that is so tranquil that the silence almost seems to speak.  In many spots the Jungle runs all the way down to the Sea.  Such symbolism comforts me, because they are both such essential incubators of Life.    
            Last week I found a bay so sublime that the voice of Nature was louder than the clamor of Humanity.  On a typical day I would see 25 dug-out cayucos being quietly rowed by extremely fit Indios.  Only rarely was the stillness disturbed by a boat with an engine.  Most of the human sounds came from happy children - laughing and playing in the shallow water.
            A little cabin on the shore caught my eye.  It seemed like a perfect hideaway for a writer, and I imagined Thoreau sitting on its tiny porch in the twilight savoring a day well-spent on reflecting and writing.  I believe that if he lived today he would choose a sailing boat as his platform for observing and commenting on Life.  A cabin on Walden Pond would be impossibly expensive; and he would chafe at the preposterous restrictions that the bureaucrats would demand. 
I have long felt that he too would choose the Sea Gypsy Philosopher life.  This intuition was recently reinforced for me when I learned that the final sentence that he uttered on his deathbed was, “Now comes good sailing!”  These thoughts led to a deeper meditation on how astonishingly different the world is now - in just the 153 years since his death.