November 15, 2000
Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada

3:23pm. Money is the system. I am in debt. It’s like a chain around my neck.

4:43pm. I wrote the below on July 11, 2000.

3:03pm. Blanketed by cotton clouds, my bed is a cradle of pebbles on the northeast beach of Manawagonish Island. I have just awoken from a nap.

Dreams are awesome things. I can get into them. I can do what I want, say what I want—anything! Only we know our dreams. They come to us, only us, from… I don’t know where, but they’re good to share. Some may think my thoughts are absurd. That’s okay. No two people have the same perspective. Each person will have a different interpretation according to where they are. Our individual experience is all we know.

Questioning a dreamer’s authority may seem like distrust--- but question we must. Who, where, why, what, when and how? The thoughts of others can be very helpful. Even the dreamer doesn’t fully understand their dreams. Questioning authority is truly enlightening.

Some people follow their dreams. Some follow other people’s dreams. Often it seems, life is a collection of dreams. If you value your abnormalities, you will follow your nose. Where it will lead… nobody knows. It’s up to you.

At any time, I can change paths in my dream—like an actor—one day playing the part of a hero--- the next day a romantic—sometimes a comedian—and so on—dancing as I walk and singing as I talk. Every life has a part to play—unique as their finger print.

I only got one chance. When the curtain closes… it’s over. Why not do my best? What do I have to lose? What do others see? Is it me? Or, is someone else writing my script? What am I worth? Good actors are paid millions of dollars. Willy knew: All the world is a stage. The money he made… what difference does it make now? All that remains is his art—his spirit.

Find me a person who is not an artist. Someone who creates and manipulates nothing. I’ve never met one. Everyone knows something I can learn from. Our environment is school. The more I do-- the more I know-- the more I can make.

"You’re blossoming freely," said my pal, Thomas, to me. "Wow, that’s beautiful, man," I reflected on his words. "Thank you." I am not a vessel to be filled with "facts" and statistics, or a machine to be worked like a tool until I am worn out, bent out of shape and broken. No, I am divine. I have something special: LIFE, to develop and grow---like a flower, that needs to be planted in a healthy environment, and nurtured, so it will blossom and bloom to be bright and beautiful. Outside in the sunlight is best for this. Not in boxes of steel, concrete and glass.

No two people have the same religion, no matter what their words profess. You can be your own political party. I have a shelf full of note books filled with my propaganda, such as this: Never give up your power of opinion—your right to liberty—to do as you choose. When you let someone else make rules for you, you lose. There’s no need to make a laws. No body has time to read all the law books. Even when people do know the law, they often break them anyway if they don’t think they will be caught. It is better to educate, so each can be their own judge.

That is my interpretation of the dream I just experienced. I am now in a whole new world. Everything is different. Nothing stays the same. In fact, everything is in motion. Every molecule is in a constant cycle of birth and decay. Everything created and manipulated sends out ripples infinitely. Nothing disappears. Physical energy is dispersed into the universe. Personality, the color and shape of a flower, the way it smells, the impression left—this is spirit. Some lives leave ugly, devastating creators—from rape and molestation. Some put themselves in cages chained with dogma. Others die in nooses and expensive suits—freedom bound by golden Rolex shackles. I don’t understand these dreams, yet many agree with my interpretation.

I like it out here—just me and the birds. Maybe we think alike. I like to fly, to get high and see the world from a wider perspective.

The rumble of auto mobiles in the city drifts in and out with the breeze. Sound effects my consciousness. I don’t notice as much while I’m in the machine, or box. Birds talk. So do insects. If the trees could scream, no body could sleep.

I’m walking now, along the shore, looking for a throne protected from the wind. Wow!!! A treasure throve of precious gems, hidden in a stone chest decorated with jewel-like periwinkles and a master piece of orange lichen bursting like frozen fireworks. It is the art of God. I’ll be a pirate and plunder it. Harrrr!!! They’re mine!!! All mine!!!! Not really. They will likely go to a friend’s house. I can only carry so much. I prefer to be light and free, so I can stay in the flow and experience more.

Did you know that the spiral of a sea shell is infinite. If you calculate the curvature—it never ends. You meet God when you see eternity. I can think of nothing more heavenly than the beautiful mystery in front of me. This stone makes a fine throne. The only difference between a king and a serf are the thoughts in their head.

At the age of seventeen, I entered a dream--to paddle a kayak around the continent. Two weeks ago, I got on a bus in central Mexico, and rode it home to Saint John, at a cost of $150USD., using up the last of my monetary energy. I am tired of scrapping by. I have accumulated a grand collection of art, skills and knowledge, and it’s time to cash in. I’ll start exploring by kayak again when I have stored enough energy to do so.

So where do I invest? What do I value? First of all—my breath. I can’t live with out that. I want clean air. A month ago, while exploring "The Mountain of Death," in Nayarit, Mexico, my water bag sprung a leek, and dehydration nearly caused me to die there. I thought I might get eaten by a tiger, although there is no record of people eaten, only a dog or two. It was a lack of water that cause me to suffer, so that is my second choice. Number three: the food I eat. I prefer it to be tasty, without added chemicals, and free. I need to plant some seeds. I like interesting sounds. They can change my mood from sad to happy in seconds. Music is an awesome gift—that can empower. I want to do that. Many art forms are of interest to me, and I will do them when the time is right.

So, what to do now? There is a full moon on Sunday. The moon enlightens. We are made of water, and rise like the tide. I’m a lunatic. At 3pm, I am going to leave McLaren’s beach in my kayak, and return here again, where it is… well… just heavenly. Anyone who wants to join me in their own paddle craft is welcome. At 7pm, when my friends and I return, we’ll have a pot luck feast. I will show slides of my adventures and tell of my summer camp-like project, The FAR OUT School, for those seeking to understand infinity and who want to make earth heavenly. Some may stick around for a camp fire and sing along. I may host a sweat lodge if it is right. An area for tenting is available, and folks are welcome to stay the night. At 6am, Donna Savage will guide a "breath walk" exercise and stretching routine on the beach. I think that will be a good start. I’ll see where the dream leads from there.