Welcome to the Dance Past Sunset Podcast! I’m so glad you are here.

What you will find in this post is my very first podcast show, recorded way back in 2014.

Whew! A lot of water has gone over the dam since then, hasn’t it?

Because it’s the first of several old shows I intend to repost, I want to help you get oriented.

First Things First

First, I understand the subjects of death, dying, and the afterlife are not everyone’s cup of tea. I felt the same way before I started the show. Ick!

What I found, however, is that nothing I have ever done has had a more profound effect on me than making peace with death. I sat for tea with the Grim Reaper, and he asked me some hard questions.

• How would you live if you knew you only had six months left?

• What changes would you make to your career, your relationships, your everyday choices?

• Where would you like to travel? Who would you like to meet? What would you like to see and do before you pass on?

• What are your dreams? What fears prevent you from living those dreams now?

Yowza! Those questions were a real wake-up call for me. Answering them led me to make important changes in how I was living. Death urged me to shift gears, take more risks, and be proactive about how the second half of my life was unfolding.

Please understand: You can, if you wish, unsubscribe from these podcast episodes without losing access to my travel posts. I encourage you, though, to listen to a few before you do.

Have your own tea party with death, dying, and the afterlife. Prepare for that rocket journey to the great beyond, on which your seat is guaranteed. Meditate on the inevitable.

Who knows where it will lead you?

Orientation

Every show starts with a reminder:

Unfortunately, those old websites were hijacked by bad guys, so unless you want to see donkey porn or buy cutlery, just ignore any references I make to them in the audio.

I follow those announcements with a statement of the podcast’s original mission:

Since this was my first show, you’ll hear me discuss that mission for a few minutes in the first part of the audio. Then I shut up and get to the interview with my fabulous guest, Marilyn Schlitz, Ph.D., an acclaimed social scientist, award-winning author, and master teacher.

Show Notes

In this first episode of the Dance Past Sunset Podcast (previously called the Dance to Death Afterlife Podcast), I briefly introduce our mission and purpose, then share an epic interview with Marilyn Schlitz, Ph.D., M.A.

Dr. Schlitz is currently Professor of Transpersonal Psychology at Sofia University. She is also CEO/President Emeritus and Senior Fellow at the Institute of Noetic Sciences. She has conducted clinical, laboratory, and field-based research into consciousness, transformation, and healing. Her books include:

• Death Makes Life Possible: Revolutionary Insights on Living, Dying, and the Continuation of Consciousness, with Deepak Chopra, MD

• Living Deeply: The Art and Science of Transformation in Everyday Life (with Cassandra Vieten and Tina Amorok)

• Death: Let’s Talk About It, with foreword by Pim van Lommel, MD

• Consciousness and Healing: Integral Approaches to Mind Body Medicine (with Tina Amorok and Marc Micozzi)

• And her newest book, Love Study: A Novel

Dr. Schlitz has published hundreds of articles in scholarly journals and popular publications, and has lectured extensively in diverse venues, including the United Nations, Smithsonian Institution, Commonwealth Club, and community groups across the world.

In this podcast you will learn about:

• The stunning and life-changing experience former astronaut Edgar Mitchell had upon his return to Earth from space

• The film Marilyn produced with Deepak Chopra entitled “How Death Makes Life Possible.” Here’s the trailer:

• How several brushes with death (swallowing lighter fluid as a baby, getting hit by a drunk driver as a teenager) and an out-of-body experience provoked her lifelong interest in death

• Noetic is from the Greek. Means “direct knowing” or “states of insight unplumbed by the…” (William James)

• How the astronaut Edgar Mitchell saw the Earth with no boundaries (race, religious, national, etc) and realized: The cause of suffering comes from within us.

• We are a whole system. We are all connected with each other, even at a molecular level.

• We are between models of reality, causing some “disquiet.”

• Death is the great taboo topic, often causing great fear, and causing the dying to feel isolated and lonely

• Ernest Becker “The Denial of Death” — the “rumble of fear” and “terror management theory”

• Defense of our “ingroup” and threatened by our “outgroup”

• Experiment of walking next to a cemetery: How having a right relationship with death makes us more compassionate

• Her talk with Sam Keene, who did the bedside interview with Ernest Becker

• She loves the way the wisdom traditions describe the thread that connects the living with the dead

• Dr. Peter Fenwick — a renowned British neuropsychiatrist and neurophysiologist who specialized in the study of near-death experiences (NDEs), end-of-life phenomena, and the relationship between the mind and the brain.

• Sufi practice of the “crane dance” with one hand down toward the earth and another up toward the heavens, a sort of rehearsal for death as well as an affirmation of living

• Her garden is a great metaphor for life, and having an intimate relationship with her pumpkins. Knowing the provenance of a thing and how the process of pruning confronts her with the cycle of life.

• The End of Life University with Dr. Karen Wyatt. I interview Dr. Wyatt in an upcoming show.

• “Let’s Talk About Death Over Dinner” with Michael Hebbs. I interview Mr. Hebbs in an upcoming show.

• How she interviewed a grieving gibbon (primate) at the zoo

• “Enjoy Every Sandwich: Living Each Day as If It Were Your Last” by Lee Lipsenthal

• What differences she finds between age, race, gender, and other groups regarding “death affirmation.”

• Are women better equipped to handle death than men? An unscientific observation.

• The scary death scene from “Gone With the Wind”

Famous last words:

That’s a Wrap!

Thank you for sticking with me on this post, especially if you took the time to listen to what Dr. Marilyn Schlitz had to say. I am confident this and future shows will have a positive impact on your life.

Coming up next time, I’ll interview Beatles expert David Dedrick of Completely Beatles about how death affected the life and music of Fab Four.

A splendid time is guaranteed for all!1

As I promised a couple of weeks ago, I am posting oldies from the Dance archives. This one is from January 2023, written after Fabi and I traveled from the bottom to the top of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.

In this letter, I tell the story of an amazing young man we met there, and I share photos of the starkly beautiful Wadi Rum desert, where iconic movies like “Lawrence of Arabia” and “Star Wars” were filmed.

At the end of the letter, I’ll also share a bit more about the first “death” podcast episode coming to you in just a few days.

But first, let’s get to what I saw in From the Balcony back in 2023.

From the Balcony

Do you happen to remember The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends? Rocky is a heroic flying squirrel, and Bullwinkle is his goofy moose pal.

I grew up with the cartoon in the ’60s, and I remember how each show ended with a cliffhanger. The next show started with a corny, male DJ voice saying something like:

That show was great fun, so I decided to start this letter kind of like they did back in the day! So, ahem…(cue corny DJ voice):

Yep. We did all that, and even found an old train left over from the Ottoman Empire.

Our trip was a hoot for all kinds of reasons, none less than the lad you are about to meet… the mighty Kareem of the Desert.

Kareem of the Desert

Kareem is a Jordanian boy we met on a 4x4 trip through Jordan’s famous Wadi Rum desert. He was 11 years old in 2023.

Our Bedouin guide, shown in the photos, apologetically asked whether it was all right for Kareem to join our trip, but warned us that other guests had found the boy “a bit much.”

Fabi and I said, “Sure. Why not?” and we were off on one of the most amusing and memorable stretches of our trip, largely thanks to the delightful Kareem.

I suspected something was different about the boy when, early in our excursion, I asked him what he knew about the famous British officer T.E. Lawrence, aka “Lawrence of Arabia,” who had made his fame in the very desert where we were standing.

To my astonishment, Kareem gave me a succinct, entertaining, and accurate summary of Lawrence and his contributions to Arab history, including details I had only learned myself after hours of study in preparation for the trip.

I was impressed, but it was about to get better.

I’m not sure when it dawned on me that I was in the company of a boy genius. Maybe it was when he cited, from memory, every country from Kyrgyzstan to Romania, in order, from east to west.

Or it may have been when he pontificated on the ramifications of the Ottoman Empire on modern geopolitics, all while rolling in the sand, dragging dead trees up dunes, and jumping off rocks.

Kareem was in constant motion, including his mouth, spitting out rapid-fire proclamations (in perfect English) that I dubbed “Kareemisms”.

I was so entertained by the lad that I wrote down just a few Kareemisms as soon as I returned to camp, listed below for your entertainment. Some cannot be explained; they just are. Accept them as a window into a prodigious mind.

• My best friend is my 800-year-old Buddhist Mongolian Uncle.

• It takes four wives to live well, but six to die.

• My grandfather is a playboy, but he is a slow eater.

• Norway is the happiest country in the world because of something called vodka.

• Bruce Wayne [Batman’s alias, for those who don’t know] and Brutus [he who betrayed Ceaser] are principally responsible for climate change.

• I hate my cousin. If he was burning, and I had water, I would drink it.

• The best thing about Stalin is that he was a good Georgian [in reference to a little-known fact, that Joseph Stalin was born in Georgia and not Russia]

• The Greeks took it too far during Türkiye’s War of Independence.

• Me: What do you know about Catherine the Great? Kareem: She took over after her husband Peter died and became a real corrupt mama.

How I Found Kareem’s Achilles Heel

At one point, Kareem asked me, “What do you know about the Franco-Prussian War?”

I said, incorrectly, that Napoleon fought it in the late 18th century. He said, correctly: “You are wrong. It happened in the late 1800s.” [1870-1871 to be exact]

Then, he asked me: “What do you know about Prussia?”

I said, correctly, that Catherine the Great was born there. Feeling confident, I continued, incorrectly, that Prussia disappeared due to the massive reorganization of states during World War I.

Kareem said, correctly, “You’re wrong. It was absorbed by the German Empire before that.”

Final score? Kareem takes it 2 to 1!

Not one to be bested, I said to Kareem: “I know one subject you will never understand no matter how much you study.”

“What is that?” Kareem said, curiously.

“Women,” I said with a wink.

It was the only time all day I ever saw him speechless.

Kareem is going places. I’m not sure where, but it gives me grand hope for the future to know he’ll be part of it.

Coming Up Next

I’m back in the present day, August 2026, only a few days away from our annual trip to the United States. The news is full of harrowing images from the Nepal flash flood, which caused untold numbers of deaths and widespread destruction. It’s heartbreaking.

When I watch terrifying scenes of people fleeing a watery monster about to devour them, I can’t help but think, “That could have been me — playing cards one moment and playing the harp in the next.” Perhaps, consciously or unconsciously, you have thought the same thing.

We never know when that twist of fate will send death our way. All we know is that it will eventually come for all of us.

Death is like a rocket ride “to eternity and beyond,” to borrow a phrase from another cartoon character. It is the most epic trip you will ever make. Your seat is guaranteed. No passport needed.

So why not prepare for it, as you would any important trip?

That was my purpose for the death podcast: to help us prepare.

I hope you’ll give the shows a chance. If you do, I believe you’ll find, as I did, that nothing you do in life will have a more positive effect on you than making peace with death.

That’s a Wrap!

I have more to say about Kareem, and how I sometimes weep for him. Paying subscribers will find that essay here:

If you want to dig a little deeper into why I chose to produce a podcast on death, I invite you to watch a video I made in 2015, where I answer that question. I think it’s one of the best things I ever produced.

Below my guitar signature, you’ll find more pictures of Jordan, including a few of the famous stone city of Petra, and the Roman ruins of Jerash.

Enjoy, and stay tuned.

This essay is a companion to my August 2026 newsletter about the Mighty Kareem of the Desert: an eleven-year-old Jordanian boy whom Fabi and I met while visiting the Wadi Rum desert in 2023. You’ll find that letter here:

I rarely throw away anything I write. My words, however clumsy, are time capsules revealing how I felt when I put pen to paper. That is the case here.

I hope they have a positive effect on you.

With warm regards,

Kareem

There is something about Kareem that touches me deeply, in a place I know not where. I often weep when I think of him now, tears born by an inexplicable blend of joy and sadness.

Fabi tells me it is because of my longing for the son I never had, and no doubt that is part of it. But there is more to the story, and perhaps this pen and paper will help me get to the bottom of it.

Read more

As I mentioned in my singing newsletter of a few weeks ago, over the next several months I’ll be sending you my best and favorite content from the Dance Archives.

Think of it as a long-running “oldies but goodies” show.

In some cases, it’s content I created over a decade ago, such as my very first Dance podcast interview from 2014.

Yep. I’m searching for buried treasure and diggin’ it up for you!

To hear what I thought and cared about in days gone by has been a curious exercise for me, kind of like looking at myself in scratchy 8mm home movies or old paper photos tossed in a moldy shoebox.

Oh my god, did you really ask that in an interview? Awkward!

And what’s with the hair? Hahaha! You look like Edward Scissorhands! Embarrassing!

But hey!!! At least I had hair back then… my famous coif of madness.

My hair might be gone, but my passion for some of that old content remains, so I want to share it with you. My purpose with this letter is to show you how I plan to organize the mummified bodies.

That sounds horribly boring, I know, but I’ll try to keep this letter interesting with clever quips, Dad jokes, and saucy anecdotes.

Not really.

Well, I might.

The Baby and the Bathwater

Question: Brant, why should I care how you organize things?

Answer: Because through the marvel of technology, you can unsubscribe from some Dance stuff without losing access to the other stuff.

Heavens to Murgatroyd! What will they think of next?

Look. I get it. Not everyone has the time or interest to drag themselves through every piece of flim-flam I produce. Life is short, and there are reruns of Matlock to watch.

Because I care about you, I want to give you the power to be choosy. Pick some Dance stuff and unsubscribe from what you don’t want. Keep the meat and throw away the bones.

I truly hope I don’t lose any of you, but in any case, I wouldn’t want you to throw the baby out with the bathwater by accidentally unsubscribing from everything. That would make me sad.

So onward, upward with a brief explanation. Pay attention.

How It’s Done

Dance content will be organized into three sections, or shelves: those horizontal wooden planks we humans use to keep things neat and tidy.

But these shelves are (wait for it)… digital!

The three sections are:

1. Dance Past Sunset

This is the main section where I post stories and images from our travels. This is and shall remain free. Going forward, I’ll be posting stories and photos from our prior trips to Jordan, Egypt, Türkiye, Germany, Saudi Arabia, Norway, Mexico, Azerbaijan, the United States, and other places around the world.

If the winds blow fair, I may also write about our upcoming travels to the green fields of Ireland, the frozen seas of Antarctica, the roasting sands of Mauritania, the salt flats of Bolivia, and the big skies of Montana. They’re all coming up in 2026 and 2027.

2. The Dance Podcast

This is a brand new section where I’ll post episodes of the Dance Past Sunset podcast. Every show features an expert guest, including:

• One of the leading experts on the Beatles, who taught me how death shaped the lives and music of the Fab Four;

• A Wiccan mortician who taught me why we cannot be destroyed when we die;

• A university-trained linguist who taught “Spock” from Star Trek how to say death proverbs in Klingon;

• A man who experienced three near-death experiences with out-of-body journeys into the afterlife;

• The founder of the green burial movement who instructed me on the greenest, most environmentally sensitive way to handle remains;

3. Mad Musings

This is a paid-only section where I post my most personal and often radical thoughts, including my “letters to the future.” I tuck this content behind the paywall, not because I need the money (I don’t, and everything gets donated to charity anyway) but because the content is precious to me, deserving of a protected space, and not to be tossed about on the web like digital chicken feed.

Subscribe now

That’s a Wrap!

That wasn’t so bad, was it?

Wait.

Isn’t that what the dentist says after drilling into my teeth with a sharp instrument, leaving me traumatized and in need of therapy, Xanax, vodka, or maybe all three?

Yeah. Well, anyway, orientation is over, and you’ve earned your certificate. Class dismissed!

Coming up next, I’ll post my first interview from the Dance Past Sunset Podcast Archives, featuring Marilyn Schlitz, Ph.D., an acclaimed social scientist, award-winning author, and master teacher.

I spoke with Dr. Schlitz in 2014 just as she was wrapping up this film project with Deepak Chopra. I know you are really going to enjoy meeting her!

A few weeks after that podcast post (requires listening), I’ll share a letter from the Dance archives, including photos of our 2023 trip to the Wadi Rum desert in Jordon, and the story of a boy I met there who was an absolute hoot. You won’t believe the things he said!

Until then, I’ll see you… on the road!

.

I decided to try something a little different this week, just to forecast the changes I see coming here on the Dance.

Yes, that’s me singing and playing guitar in the video. No AI would ever make anything this cheesy.🧀

Coming up next week, I’ll explain why I chose “Summertime Blues” as my theme song. For now, have fun with it, dance along if it moves you, and accept Fabi and my best wishes for a great summer!

Letters to the Future

This is a message in a bottle, cast into the digital sea, in the hope that some descendant, born or not yet born, will find it. My intention is to leave those who come after me a record of things I wish I knew about my ancestors.

Who am I? What did I care about? Where did I go, and what did I see? What was happening in my world? What scared me? What made me feel alive? What advice do I offer?

Time will reveal how much of what I said here was valid, or not. Either way, my voice will not have vanished without a trace.

It will still be here, waiting to be found.

Dear Beloved Descendant:

I had a moment of doubt on February 28, 2026, when the mighty U.S. military, at the direction of U.S. President and Commander-in-Chief Donald Trump, started a war with Iran. One of the reasons the President gave for the war was to deny Iran a nuclear weapon, which he believed they would use against Israel and others: a terrifying possibility.

I have long opposed war with Iran, as I oppose most wars, but the prospect of a nuclear Iran was frightening, so I earnestly considered Trump’s rationale, which reveals how I feel about him.

I don’t love President Trump, but I don’t hate him either. I weigh his decisions one at a time, just like I would with any president. Some of Trump’s decisions I like. Some I don’t.

His decision to go to war with Iran deserved thoughtful consideration, not just by me, but by the whole world.

By the time I climbed to the top of Hamburg, Germany’s St. Nikolia Church in the summer of 2026, my doubt had cleared. I made up my mind in that church about the war: a conclusion I’ll reveal in this letter, and hinted at in this this video:

Read more

Fabi and I just returned from a delightful week hiking in the fabulous Faroe Islands: the land of the midnight sun.

The islands are clean and pristine, a natural wonderland of towering waterfalls tumbling over sheer cliffs, emerald-green mountainside fields dotted with coffee-colored sheep, sprinkles of petite wildflowers along clear-running brooks, tempestuous seas surging against rocky shorelines, and kind, friendly people. We were truly sorry to leave.

Then there was Hamburg, Germany, which we passed on the way home. That city gave me quite a shock.

I’ll write more about hostels and Hamburg later, but first I want to share some images of the Faroes.

It’s what I want you to see…

From the Balcony

We took so many photographs that we risked wearing out our cameras. I had to remind myself to stop seeing the world through a lens and instead simply sit with the unfiltered beauty, drinking it in, letting it penetrate into my soul.

If you’d like to see more of the Faroe Islands through my lens, I suggest taking a gander at some of the short videos I made while there. One of my favorites is shown below.

The James Bond film “No Time to Die” was filmed in the Faroe Islands, where his gravestone is located. Naturally, I used the opportunity to do my best Sean Connery impersonation in another of my short videos. It also includes some great views!

Hostels

I discovered hostels during the epic year of travel I described in my book “Blue Skyways: No job. No house. No wife. A little money and 12 months of free airfare. One man answers his soul’s calling.”

I was initially attracted to hostels’ low cost, but soon discovered they were also the best way to meet fellow travelers. I met Fabi in a hostel — a story she tells in the last chapter of her travel memoir “Far and Wild.”

Hostels remain a part of our travel modus operandi. Fabi and I have stayed in so many worldwide that I think we can consider ourselves hostel experts. We know what makes a good one.

Naturally, we stayed in a hostel on the Faroe Islands. As hostels go, it could use some improvements (better bathrooms, charging ports in the bunks, etc), but where it counts, our hostel was great: it proved to be a wonderful place to meet people and hear their stories.

• The Philippine woman running away from her Lithuanian husband who won’t leave his mother

• The Chinese young man who asked us what it meant to “hitchhike.” We had to show him how to hold his thumb and smile without looking crazy.

• The Canadian who abandoned his high-paying IT job to run an illegal speakeasy for the nocturnal, headbanging death metal crowd.

There were more. I could write a whole book just on the stories from this one hostel, forget about all the others.

Money is an insulator; it protects you from the riff-raff who don’t have it, or the riff-raff who have it but don’t want to spend it on expensive restaurants and hotels. Traveling on the cheap puts you in riff-raff company, which, from my experience, is good company.

Sure, things can be a little grungy from time to time, and you’ll smell things you wish you hadn’t, but honestly, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hamburg, Germany.

We spent a day in this large German city on our way home to Italy. I’ll explain what I saw there another time, but I will say this much:

It’s not entirely Hamburg’s fault. Stirred into my funky stew are two other essential ingredients.

One I heard while walking through the Copenhagen terminal: this fabulous cover of Phil Collins’s “Another Day in Paradise.”

I’ve heard the most excellent original for years but honestly never paid much attention to the lyrics. This time they caught my attention, and the gods decided it was time to push the song into my soul.

She calls out to the man on the street

“Sir, can you help me?

It’s cold and I’ve nowhere to sleep,

Is there somewhere you can tell me?”

He walks on, doesn’t look back

He pretends he can’t hear her

Starts to whistle as he crosses the street

Seems embarrassed to be there

I went on an “Another Day in Paradise” spree, listening to a dozen different versions on the seven-hour overnight bus ride from Copenhagen to Hamburg. Here is another one of my favorite covers.

Dignity

The second ingredient in my funky stew, and probably the reason the song’s lyrics struck me so, was a book I read in the Faroe Islands: “Dignity: Seeking Respect in Back Row America” by Chris Arnade. I follow Chris on Substack and really like what he has to say.

Follow Chris Arnade on Substack

Arnade’s book “Dignity”, written about ten years ago, chronicles his experiences walking through America’s most forlorn and abandoned areas, where the people living there have fallen into hopelessness and despair, and where homelessness, prostitution, and drug abuse are rampant.

“Dignity” shook me. It is not an easy read, but it is a good one.

Funk is Good. Change is Good.

I turned 70 in the Faroe Islands, and as the smoke cleared from my many birthday candles, I was reminded of something I wrote last year:

My greatest worry about growing old is the narcotic of comfort, the inexorable pull toward an ossified state of mind where I feel entitled to my opinion and no one can move me from it.

If and when that happens, I hope a savior comes to the entrance to my tomb and calls me forth, like Jesus called the dead man Lazurus. Then, I will shake off the ideological burial wraps that bind me, escape the intellectual rigor mortis that is my opinion, and stumble into the light of curiosity. Hallelujah! I will be alive again!

Okay. I asked for it — now, here it comes. It’s all good.

I consider funk a good thing. It’s a change-agent. What I saw, what I’ve been reading and listening to lately, are rearranging the furniture in my soul house.

The furniture is not in place yet, and maybe it never will be.

That’s NOT a Wrap!

I’m not sure what to think about this crazy old world, with its drug zombies, screaming meanies, Substack pontificators, and warhawks. There are lots of pieces flying around inside of me, as if a twister hit my soul house and shattered it.

I try to capture what I believe to be true on paper, but then I wake up in the middle of the night and think: “No. That ain’t right.”

Hit delete.

Start over.

Rethink.

Ask.

Listen.

Think again.

Rewrite.

It’s not a wrap.

Keep wondering, and I’ll see you… on the road

.

Do you have an eagle eye?

If so, you might have noticed something I said toward the end of my June 27 newsletter.

I am working through my feelings about my country [the United States], one I left six years ago, as I usually do, with pen in hand.

If I manage to reach some kind of agreement with myself, I’ll share my thoughts in the [July 4] newsletter. If not, I’ll post something from the archives.

So what happened?

I posted from the archives.

It’s not that I didn’t come to an agreement with myself.

It’s just that it doesn’t matter.

Nothing that mattered yesterday will matter tomorrow.

My ideas, everyone’s, are moot.

Most important now is what’s coming, not just for America, but for the world, and how we respond to it.

It’s what I and some others see…

From the Balcony

By the time you get this letter, Fabi and I will be in the Faroe Islands. She asked me weeks ago what I wanted to do for my 70th birthday, and I said, “Hike in the mountains.”

We picked the Faroe archipelago because of its largely uninhabited, pristine, natural landscape, plus the hope for cooler temps. Italy is an oven right now.

Planning the trip, however, was unusually complicated. Just getting to the Islands requires days of travel:

• A flight from Milan to Hamburg, Germany;

• A long bus ride to a Danish port on the Jutland Sea;

• A 40-hour ferry to the Faroes

Then there is moving around the archipelago. We plan to use public transport to keep costs down and maintain our peace of mind (driving is stressful).

But it’s complicated. The Faroe archipelago consists of 18 islands. To get around, there are buses, ferries, helicopters, long undersea tunnels, meandering sheep, and muddy footpaths.

It took Fabi, the family trip planner extraordinaire, several hours just to plan one excursion — from the capital, Tórshavn, to “the loneliest lighthouse in the world.” The excursion involves four legs: two buses, a ferry, and a three-hour hike.

“Say,” she asked me when she was done working. “Why don’t we ask AI if my plan is correct?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I said. “It would be a good sanity check.”

We asked.

Claude planned the excursion in seconds and even recommended the optimal time to go.

We were, again, astounded by the power of AI.1

And a little scared.

The Letters

Some people take to the streets to provoke change, and that’s good. People should do that. Others throw soup to be the change they want to see in the world.

Me? I write letters. I learned the practice from my mom.

“I’m gonna write a letter,” Mom would say with a harumph whenever she encountered something she thought needed to change.

And write she did. Mom was an activist.

I’ve been on a letter-writing campaign lately. I wrote to six historical societies, asking them to verify if the United States was slipping into fascism.

I wrote another to Donald Trump urging him to visit an island in South Korea and pay his respects to the people massacred there.

One More

There is one more letter I sent, one I want to share with you here in case you also want to send it.

I did not write it; it was written for me by this organization concerned about the uncontrolled use of Artificial Intelligence.

Here is the letter:

To the UN AI Advisory Body [aiadvisorybody@un.org],

I am writing to express my urgent concern regarding the lack of direct public representation in global AI governance.

As AI technologies transcend borders, it is essential that the voices of ordinary citizens are included in decision-making processes.

I am especially concerned about the following:

AI could help prevent conflict through better intelligence, faster diplomacy, and precision that reduces civilian harm. But in the absence of any international treaty framework, it is triggering a global autonomous weapons race with no agreed baseline for human oversight.

AI could distribute capability and opportunity broadly across society. But without antitrust action and open-access policy, it will be the fastest wealth and power concentrating technology ever built.

AI could help individuals control their own data and protect their digital lives. But in the hands of governments and corporations with no guardrails, it’s becoming the most powerful surveillance apparatus in human history.

I urge the Advisory Body to establish formal mechanisms for public input and ensure that AI development serves the global public good.

Sincerely,

Brant Huddleston

I sent the letter after watching THE AI DOC: OR HOW I BECAME AN APOCALOPTIMIST. Here’s the trailer:

That’s a Wrap!

I said earlier in the letter that I am a little scared.

Why is that?

It’s because we humans denied the gods and ignored the prophets.

I’ll write about that another time. For now, enjoy the summer.

.

Hello there, fellow dreamer!

This is the last in my series of videos about my first book and only novel, “Map of Dreams.” In these videos, I provide the novel’s backstory, which I believe is as interesting as the story itself. Why did I write the book? What motivated me? What could I have possibly been thinking?

Since my unscripted videos might include spoilers, as a courtesy to you, dear reader, I am also providing a complete, unabridged copy of the book along with the videos. Read the chapters first, or watch the video first — your choice.

My Video

What’s the book about?

If you are one of those who (like me) enjoy holding a real book in your hands, you can buy a paperback of “Map of Dreams” from Amazon. It is also available there as an ebook. Here is the link:

Buy "Map of Dreams"

Whichever way you enjoy “Map of Dreams,” thank you for your time and interest.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

PAUL FELT REFRESHED AND ENERGETIC. He walked lightly beside the taller Jordan, who kept a brisk pace as they passed through a labyrinth of torchlit cobblestone paths. The city was larger than it had seemed from afar. Broad plazas, connected by narrow streets, were peppered throughout. Every nook was lovingly manicured and well-kept. There was no graffiti, litter, cars, or homeless people.

The evening was pleasant — cool and dry. Many people were out despite the late hour. Their clothes were varied and colorful. Paul recognized some of the people from his world — Midianites, Ethiopians, Greeks, Babylonians, and Jews. Others were strange to him, such as those with slanted eyes, skin markings like a zebra’s, hermaphrodites, and six-fingered giants.

Read more

I’m trying out a new style of writing.

It’s popular on Substack.

No paragraphs. Short, punchy sentences.

Often incomplete.

Good for people with limited attention spans.

Like fruit flies.

Or the Twitter-brained.

But you, my friend, are not one of those, so I will offer you something longer, meatier.

It’s an essay I wrote over a year ago, in the old style, on a rainy day in Vietnam when I was feeling poorly.

Ignore the headline. Read it to the end. Think about it.

And if you dare, respond to my challenge.

So here’s the essay.

Read on.

That’s a Wrap!

I kind of like this new style.

It’s easy to write.

Easy to read.

It’s to writing what a Twinkie is to good pastry.

It’s Twinkie style!

How do you like it? Let me know in the comments.

Oh, and by the way… Happy 250th birthday to the good ole USA. It was a nice, long experiment.

Get ready for some big changes. Global ones. Mind-blowing ones.

Shit happens.

By the time you read this, I suspect the long debate between left and right, communism and fascism, will be moot, that is, irrelevant. Those two ideologies were born in the boiling petri dish of the Industrial Revolution, when humankind was reeling from the new, mysterious, and terrifying effects of electricity and steam engines.

“What will become of us?” the people cried. And so they went running for the comfort and shelter of a big man on a horse, like Stalin, Mao, and Hitler. “Save us from ourselves! Save us!”

Systems and men bent on power and control never waste a good crisis, and so tyrants like the ones I mentioned (and there were others) rode the wave of fear, enlarging it however they could to maintain control. Fear is the ticket to power.

Read more

It’s been a while since I last wrote, but you’ll be happy to know I’ve been busy: traveling, writing, and writing letters.

I recognize that it’s terribly old-fashioned (and probably ineffective) to write letters as a way of fomenting the change I want to see in the world. I’m certain it’s more effective, and certainly more fashionable, to throw a brick through a store window, or kick a police officer’s vehicle, or glue myself to a museum floor while I toss tomato soup on a Van Gogh painting. Nowadays, if you post a video of the whole charade on social media, you can become a superstar!

Plenty of people protest that way.

But that’s not my style. I’m a writer, so I write letters.

Read more

Hello there, fellow dreamer!

This is another in a series of videos about my first book and only novel, “Map of Dreams.” In these videos, I provide the novel’s backstory, which I believe is as interesting as the story itself. Why did I write the book? What motivated me? What could I have possibly been thinking?

Since my unscripted videos might include spoilers, as a courtesy to you, dear reader, I am also providing a complete, unabridged copy of the book along with the videos. Read the chapters first, or watch the video first — your choice.

My Video

What’s the book about?

If you are one of those who (like me) enjoy holding a real book in your hands, you can buy a paperback of “Map of Dreams” from Amazon. It is also available there as an ebook. Here is the link:

Buy "Map of Dreams"

Whichever way you enjoy “Map of Dreams,” thank you for your time and interest.

Chapter Thirty

“WHO ARE YOU?” PAUL ASKED the young man. They stood on a paved terrace beside a serpentine stone wall that separated them from a steep hillside. Each stone in the wall seemed perfectly fitted — there was no mortar. Alabaster planters, trimmed with gold and cascading with wine-red flowers, surrounded the terrace. The rocky hillside beyond the wall was covered with sage-green cacti, each festooned with palm-sized, luminescent yellow flowers. The air was dry and warm. Columns of narrow cypress, so intensely green they appeared almost black against the azure sky, towered here and there. Beyond the hill, a shimmering sea stretched as far as the eye could see, its waves exploding on the rocks below in clouds of white foam and spray.

“I am Jordan, your guide,” the young man said. He was handsome and athletic, dressed simply in a white cotton tunic, as was Paul.

“Where are the prison guards?”

“There are no guards here, Paul. You are free to travel about as you wish. But first, there is someone I want you to meet.”

Read more

The more I travel, the more I am convinced that 98% of the people in this crazy old world are good, kind, and honest.

I would say 99%, but Fabi loves watching documentaries about serial killers and other horrible people while I’m sitting nearby (our house is under 500 square feet). Those shows tend to cast a shadow over my sunshine. Boo!

The good news is that mean, nasty people are just a tiny minority of the 8.3 billion of us.

Whoohoo!

Fabi and I just returned from nine days in Albania, and everyone we met there, except one, affirmed my Pollyannish opinion of humanity.

What a lovely country! The Albanian people are so sweet, and the countryside is beautiful and unspoiled. We had a great time and will definitely return.

And the one bad apple in the barrel?

Yeah, I’ll get to him later, but first, I want to share some scenes and stories from awesome Albania.

It’s what I see…

From the Balcony

Honestly, before we went there, I don’t think I could have found Albania on a map of the world.

Baltic? No.

Balkan? Yes. I think that’s right.

Former Yugoslavia? Close, but no cigar!

Okay, so here’s the skinny. Albania is just north of Greece, with a coast on the Adriatic and Ionian Seas within the Mediterranean Sea.

One can be forgiven for overlooking little old Albania (yes, it is both little and old), as it was, for more than 40 years until the early 1990’s, locked in the grip of communism and not exactly a tourist destination. It is still shaking off the shackles of totalitarianism.

Every dark cloud has its silver lining, and Albania’s communist decades kept it from becoming overdeveloped, helping explain its old-world feel and largely rural landscape. As one friend put it — “Albania is like Europe was 40 years ago” — an apt description.

Only recently have green-eyed real estate developers begun erecting towering beachfront condominiums and sprawling resorts along the Ionian coast. You may have read that Donald Trump’s daughter, Ivanka, and her husband, Jared Kushner, plan to build a resort on one of Albania’s uninhabited islands, prompting massive protests in the country’s capital.

We generally avoided protests, the capital, and the coast, preferring instead to go deep into the countryside, where authentic Albania still thrives.

That turned out to be a good choice!

For hundreds of years, Albania was part of the Ottoman Empire, so Fabi and I were delighted to discover flavors of our beloved Türkiye, with just a dash of Greek and Italian thrown in for added spice. The food? Delish!

But as any Albanian worth his or her salt will tell you, Albania is 100% Albanian, with a long and storied history.

Albanians have a wonderful country, and we are happy to see them getting discovered.

Our wish for them is a future full of peace and prosperity.

A Little Bit About Love

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the Bible’s definition of love, as written by the Apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 13. Here’s what he said:

While I generally find his definition wonderful, I’m struggling with the part that says “love keeps no record of wrongs.”

How can that be? If you don’t know what’s wrong with yourself, your car, your oatmeal, or your country, then how can you hope to fix it? Maybe:

• My oatmeal just needs a dash of salt.

• My car needs a tune-up.

• My country needs a tune-up!

• I need a fresh point of view.

On the other hand, there’s something beautiful, perhaps even divine, about casting a blind eye toward the “wrongs” of the person or thing you love.

Faults? What faults? My baby is beautiful, and let nobody say otherwise.

But sometimes, they do.

The Bad Apple

“Your country is shieet! America is shieet,” the convenience store clerk cried when he learned I was from the United States.1

We had only been in Albania for an hour and had stopped to buy water.

“I see. Where in the U.S. have you been?” I asked.

He responded with a blank stare and then changed the subject.

Aha! I thought. Gotcha!

The young man had never set foot in the U.S.; he was just bleating out an opinion colored by second-hand information.

Ugh. How many of us make that mistake? I know I do, but I try to avoid doing so, as I find it leads to bad conclusions.

Love Grows from the Inside Out

As a person who lives outside the U.S. and has friendships with many non-Americans, I am accustomed to occasional disparagement of the United States.

I usually accept these criticisms with good humor. Hell, a lot of the critiques are true!

But do I want to be one of those who jump on the “America is fucked” bandwagon, citing a long list of its wrongs as reason to be oikophobic?2

Or do I want to be one who says, “I come from a good country full of good people doing good things, just like you do. Please visit my country one day and decide for yourself.”

I hope you know who I choose to be. As I travel, I consider myself an American “ambassador of goodwill.” It is the most important thing I do as a traveler, and I cannot do it well unless I take it to heart.

You cannot love others until you first love yourself. Jesus said that, and Khalil Gibran understood.

And you cannot love another’s country until you first love your own.

Love grows from the inside out.

That’s a Wrap!

Next Saturday marks the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States of America. I am working through my feelings about my country, one I left six years ago, as I usually do, with pen in hand.

If I manage to reach some kind of agreement with myself, I’ll share my thoughts in the newsletter. If not, I’ll post something from the archives.

In the meantime, I’ll leave you with the opportunity to learn more about Albania via my 60-second video “shorts.” Here are a few of my favorites:

Police to the Rescue!

Fabi and I had heard about a remote warm spring in Albania’s back country, a stone’s throw from its border with Greece, and which required a good bit of effort to find. Thankfully, we were assisted by some very kind police officers who had an old but sturdy 4x4 vehicle. It was another adventure of a lifetime!

Watch the Video Short

Vampires in Albania

My favorite city in Albania is Gjirokastër, where we most enjoyed getting away from the touristy part and into the quieter parts of the old city. There we saw evidence of vampires!!! Not really, but we had fun with it.

Note that I modified one photo with AI, adding a spooky face to the bottom of a well.

Watch the Video Short

Spooky Tunnels

I would have assumed all former communist bloc countries had a fear of the West, and especially the nuclear U.S., but it is not so. Fabi and I saw evidence of Albania’s communist era (60s to the 90s) paranoia and fear of the nuclear Soviet Union. It surprised me.

Watch the Video Short

If you are jonesin’ for more video shorts, you’ll find them here.

That’s it for now. Fabi and I are heading out in a few days on another adventure, this time to the Faroe Islands.

So I’ll see you next time… on the road!

Hello there, fellow dreamer!

This is another in a series of videos about my first book and only novel, “Map of Dreams.” In these videos, I provide the novel’s backstory, which I believe is as interesting as the story itself. Why did I write the book? What motivated me? What could I have possibly been thinking?

Since my unscripted videos might include spoilers, as a courtesy to you, dear reader, I am also providing a complete, unabridged copy of the book along with the videos. Read the chapters first, or watch the video first — your choice.

My Video

What’s the book about?

If you are one of those who (like me) enjoy holding a real book in your hands, you can buy a paperback of “Map of Dreams” from Amazon. It is also available there as an ebook. Here is the link:

Buy "Map of Dreams"

Whichever way you enjoy “Map of Dreams,” thank you for your time and interest.

Chapter Twenty

MARK MATTHEW JAYSON PUT ON HIS HEADSET and clamped a ragged baseball cap on his head. The hat gave him good luck fighting zombies, but mostly just kept his gaming headset from slipping off. He fired up his Xbox and logged on. Good, he thought, seeing that his friend “Pepperjack” was already on. He checked his watch. It was 3 AM local time in Bergama, Türkiye. That would be 7 PM Pepperjack’s time.

“Hey. You there?” Mark said, adjusting the microphone to his mouth.

“Yeah,” said Pepperjack.

“I’m surprised to see you on, considering all the shit going down in the U.S.,” Mark said.

“Yeah,” said Pepperjack. “It’s bad too. I come here to escape. My parents are freaking out.”

“No surprise. Has it hit you guys yet?”

Read more

Thank you for following along as Fabi and I adventure through the second half of life. This letter will be my last about the archipelago of Cabo Verde, where we spent 15 days on six islands.

I also promised to answer the question that’s on everyone’s mind. No, not “will the peace agreement between the U.S. and Iran last.” No one knows the answer to that one!

Rather, what the hell happened to your fifth book, Mr. Huddleston? You know, the one you never talk about?!?

But before we get to that… Are you hungry?

I hope so, because I’m about to share what yummy foods we enjoyed while in Cabo Verde (CV).

So let’s get right to it, for it’s what I see cooking…

From the Balcony

As Fabi will attest to, I travel on my stomach. A place’s cuisine is as interesting to me as anything else. One of the first questions I ask when planning a trip is:

What do they eat there?

Fortunately for me, while visiting Lisbon, Portugal, earlier this year, we bumped into a lovely young woman who was born and raised in Cabo Verde, and she gave me the skinny on all the yummy foods I should try while in CV, starting with their national dish Cachupa.

My Favorite Cabo Verdean Food

The national dish of Cabo Verde is Cachupa, a rich, slow-cooked stew considered the soul of Cape Verdean cuisine.

Cachupa is made with hominy corn (dried maize), beans, and vegetables, typically including sweet potato, cassava, and squash. It comes in two main versions:

• Cachupa Pobre (“poor cachupa”) — the simpler, vegetarian version with just corn, beans, and vegetables.

• Cachupa Rica (“rich cachupa”) — a more elaborate version that adds meat such as sausage (chouriço), bacon, chicken, or fish.

The kind I ate most often, and came to love, is called Cachupa Refogada. It is basically leftover Cachupa Rica, famously repurposed the next morning as a beloved breakfast dish. The stew is fried in a pan until slightly crispy and topped with a fried egg. Yummy!

Tap to see Cachupa

What else they got?

Since CV is an archipelago of ten islands, it was easy to get fresh fish, and we ate a lot of it.

Fish is expensive in most parts of the world, but in CV, we enjoyed a fish lunch including rice, veggies, and a cold beer for under ten bucks. Not bad!

Our other go-to was chicken, and the two fine ladies you see below grilled it up perfetto and served it with a smile.

Fish and chicken were a welcome relief from the vegan food that we’d been eating for the prior few days: the only thing they served at the B&B where we were sequestered deep in the forest.

Vegetables I like. Vegan tastes like crap. I survived by washing the glop down with copious quantities of local grok — a fiery distilled liquor made from sugar cane. The islanders were making it right down the street, so we paid their distillery a visit.

Watch Grok Being Made in 60 secs

A Fun Restaurant Story

We also stopped by the restaurant you see featured in this 60-second video, where a gaggle of teenage girls sat at a table not far from ours, eating fries. We noticed them whispering and giggling as they looked in our direction.

Folks are often intrigued by Fabi’s many tattoos, so we are accustomed to being persons of interest. But in this case, they were entranced by my eyes! As it turns out, the girls had never seen a person with blue eyes before. To them, I was some kind of freak of nature!

We all had a good laugh over that, and I allowed them to get a good, close look at my azure orbs. The whole hilarious event reminded me of another time I was the only white person in an African-American dance club and was mobbed by women who had never touched hair like mine… back when I still had hair. For a brief, shining moment, I was a movie star!

Note: You take it where, when, and however you can get it.

The Fifth Book

Ah, failure. There’s nothing quite like it to teach you a lesson. I’ve had more failures in life than I can count, and the story of the enigmatic fifth book is one of them.

“Fifth” is a bit of a misnomer because it was actually the second book I wrote, after “Map of Dreams,” the novel I share with you every Wednesday.

It was circa 2015-2016. I was almost 60 and “in-between jobs” — the polite term for “out of a job.”

Although I was a certified Professional Project Manager (PMP) with gobs of experience — I had what one might call an attitude problem. Specifically, I would rather have mowed lawns than spend the rest of my days saying “yes sir/m’am” to some asshole half my age while laboring on a project I could not give a rip about.

Cranky old man? You betcha!

Plus, I had a string of business failures behind me, which I could only explain with a sock puppet and a good sense of humor. No one wants to hire a loser, even if he is good at puppeteering. Career-wise, I was dead in the water.

I concluded the only way for an old crank like me to make money was to start my own business. I had tried and failed at that many times before, but being an indefatigable optimist and a glutton for punishment, in 2015, at the age of 59, I decided to try again.

My idea? Produce audio tours people could listen to on their smartphones. “It’ll be like having a tour guide in your pocket,” I cried to anyone who would listen. “Always available, in any language, and cheap.”

The lost book was part of my marketing strategy.

I put more time and energy into that business than I care to mention,1 but ultimately, it was another failure.

There are many reasons the business never got off the ground, but one I did not foresee was the rise of Artificial Intelligence (AI) as a game-changer in mobile tourism.

I should have. I was, after all, a disciple of the “Only the Paranoid Survive” school of thinking. That’s the title of a 1996 business book by former Intel CEO Andy Grove that I read and believed in. Its message is basically to expect the unexpected.

But I doubt that few back then anticipated what we are witnessing today: meteoric advances in AI that are simply breathtaking. I continue to be awestruck, and as they say in the movies: “You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet!”

The Other Four Books

I’m sure you’re dying to know what my other four books are… aren’t you?

Sure, you are!

1. “Map of Dreams: A Novel”

2. “Blue Skyways: No job. No house. No wife. A little money and 12 months of free airfare. One man answers his soul’s calling.”

3. “Making the Second Half Man: How I Became the Ogre-King”

4. Far and Wild: A Travel Memoir” with Fabiana Capuano

Fast Forward to the Present

Nowadays, I use AI when I travel — on my smartphone in a way not too different from how I imagined it more than a decade ago. I’ll see something interesting, snap a photo, upload it to ChatGPT, and ask it to ID.

That’s how I discovered the music of Horace Silver, which I explained in my last newsletter. Fabi and I are constantly exploring, and AI helps us satisfy our curiosity. That leads me to the next in my new “Stories from Alien Intelligence” series.

We were in Cidade Velha (Portuguese for “old city”), Cabo Verde’s first European settlement, founded in 1462. The port was a critical stopover for sailing ships carrying enslaved Africans west to the Americas and for gold and silver heading to Europe.

Our curiosity was piqued while visiting the old city’s oldest church, where we found a strange, intricate carving embedded in the floor. Naturally, I asked ChatGPT about it, and I’ll tell that story next, or, rather, it will.

Stories from Alien Intelligence

This appears to be a grave slab (campa) commemorating a prominent early settler of Cabo Verde, and it is historically significant because it dates from the period when Cidade Velha (then Ribeira Grande) was one of the most important Portuguese colonial cities in the Atlantic world.

The inscription is worn, but much of it can still be read. It identifies the deceased as

“Aqui jaz António de Brito do Lago, cavaleiro fidalgo da Casa del-Rei…”

(“Here lies António de Brito do Lago, knight nobleman of the Royal Household…”)

It further mentions his wife:

“…e sua mulher Mónica Tavares de Sousa…”

and records his death in 1605. Scholars of early Cape Verdean genealogy identify him as António de Brito do Lago, a nobleman (“cavaleiro-fidalgo”) connected with the Portuguese Crown who lived in Ribeira Grande and died on 2 July 1605. He was buried in the Church of Nossa Senhora do Rosário.

The Coat of Arms

The carving above the inscription is the family’s heraldic shield:

• A crowned helmet topped by a lion, symbolizing nobility and martial status.

• The shield is quartered, combining arms associated with different family lines.

• One side appears to show repeated lions, a common heraldic motif in Portuguese noble families.

• The other side includes a tower above waves, often representing a lineage connected with coastal fortifications, maritime service, or a specific family inheritance.

In the 16th and 17th centuries, only individuals of substantial status would normally receive such an elaborate carved tomb.

Why It Matters

The church itself, Church of Nossa Senhora do Rosário, is among the oldest surviving colonial churches in the tropics. The tomb therefore belongs to the earliest generation of the Cape Verde elite, at a time when Ribeira Grande was a major hub in the Atlantic trade network linking Portugal, West Africa, Brazil, and the Caribbean.

An Interesting Detail

The slab is set into the floor because burial inside churches was a privilege reserved for clergy, nobles, wealthy patrons, and other prominent figures. In the early modern Portuguese world, walking over such tombstones was normal. Humans have always had a fascinating habit of placing their most expensive memorials where future generations would step on them while looking for a seat.

So the significance of this carving is that it is not merely decorative. It is the 1605 tombstone of António de Brito do Lago, a Portuguese nobleman and member of the royal household, buried in one of the oldest churches in the Atlantic colonial world, making it a direct physical link to the earliest history of Cabo Verde.

Wow. Isn’t that cool? It made the experience of seeing that burial slab so much more meaningful.

That’s a Wrap!

It’s time to leave Cabo Verde and move on. Fabi and I leave for Albania in just a few hours, and I still haven’t packed my purple socks.

For those jonesin’ for more Cabo Verde, I’ve posted more 60-second videos on my Go!Mobile YouTube channel. Just tap the big orange button below:

See More Short Videos About CV

Want to visit the archipelago one day? Here’s a picture of the CV woman who gave us travel tips in Lisbon, along with a copy of her tips. I hope you find them useful.

That’s it for now. I’ll see you next time… on the road!

Hello there, fellow dreamer!

This is another in a series of videos about my first book and only novel, “Map of Dreams.” In these videos, I provide the novel’s backstory, which I believe is as interesting as the story itself. Why did I write the book? What motivated me? What could I have possibly been thinking?

Since my unscripted videos might include spoilers, as a courtesy to you, dear reader, I am also providing a complete, unabridged copy of the book along with the videos. Read the chapters first, or watch the video first — your choice.

My Video

What’s the book about?

If you are one of those who (like me) enjoy holding a real book in your hands, you can buy a paperback of “Map of Dreams” from Amazon. It is also available there as an ebook. Here is the link:

Buy "Map of Dreams"

Whichever way you enjoy “Map of Dreams,” thank you for your time and interest.

Chapter Fourteen

YOU ARE PISSING ME OFF AS USUAL, Lena. Why can’t you take my advice for once?”

“We need to stay here in Frankfurt,” Lena yelled, spittle flying onto Tyler’s red face. “They can’t kill us if we hide.”

“I don’t think so,” Tyler said, waving her off as if she had bad breath. “We have a solid plan. We meet with Achibar and find out what the fuck is going on. We should follow it.”

“I disagree,” Lena said, throwing her pack onto the floor. “How the hell do we know we can trust him? What makes you so sure we aren’t walking into a trap?”

Read more

A scowl. A grimace. A cold stare. It’s what we Americans call a “dirty look,” but what Italians more colorfully refer to as faccia di cazzo, which roughly translates to “face of a penis.”

That’s the look Fabi gave me over our brioche con crema (crisp Italian croissants filled with vanilla custard) and cappuccinos, our first Italian food in over two weeks. We were sitting at a table in the shade of huge trees hanging over our favorite café, having just returned from Cabo Verde (CV) a few hours earlier.

“But aren’t you happy to be home in Italy, amore?” I asked, wiping foamy milk from my mustache and taking a bite of the crisp pastry.

Fabi’s foul look said “no,” and I understood why. Our time in the CV archipelago was simply delightful, and we didn’t want it to end.

But alas, there are things one can do at home that need doing: haircuts, doctor’s visits, deep cleaning, newsletters, etc., and there was no putting off those tasks. We have less than a week to go before we are off again, this time to Albania, where we plan to spend the balance of June.

But for now, this letter, and perhaps the next, will be about the images, music, food, and lovely people of Cabo Verde.

It’s what I see…

From the Balcony

“How did you like Cabo Verde?”

My answer depends on which island. There are ten in the CV archipelago, only nine of which are inhabited, and we visited six of those. CV is like Forrest Gump’s proverbial box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get, that is until you put your feet on the ground, sniff the air, and taste the mangoes.

Some islands, like Sal, are flat, dry, and boring. Others, like Santa Antão (my favorite), are lush and green. Most are a mixture of both.

Here is a 51-second video of Fabi showing which islands we visited over the 15 days we spent hopping around the archipelago.

Cabo Verde (formerly Cape Verde) was once a Portuguese colony, and the natives still speak that language, along with Creole and local dialects. Many also speak enough English, French, or Spanish that Fabi and I were able to bump along with very few problems.

Of course, there is always our old standby of grunts, mimics, and hand motions, which we refer to as “monkey language,” and of which Fabi is especially proficient. We use the simian lingua franca (my apologies to the French) all over the world, and it works more effectively than you might imagine. Necessity is the mother of invention.

I asked (in English) one local fellow, our CV taxi driver, whether he felt more European, Portuguese, or African.

“None of the above,” he said. “I feel Cabo Verdean.”

I liked his answer. CV people have a unique culture and national pride, undoubtedly burnished by their football team qualifying for the 2026 World Cup. Italy’s didn’t, by the way. Boo!

“Mainland Africans call us ‘white,’” the taxi driver said with a chuckle.

I looked at him. Definitely not white the way I think of it, I thought. He was a lovely chocolate brown, as are most Cabo Verdeans.

“Dude, you are not white, and neither am I. Snow is white. Paper is white. This trim is white,” I said, pointing to a part of his taxicab. “We are all just various shades of brown, are we not?”1

He laughed and agreed. It didn’t occur to me until later that he had probably never seen snow.

More Images of Cabo Verde

Substack starts complaining when I paste too many photos into my newsletters, so I’ll offer you the option to watch three short videos jam-packed with moving and still images, plus my usual quirky commentary. Each is only 60 seconds long, so I hope you enjoy one or more.

1. A Collection of Favorite Images

If you are short on time, this is the one to watch. It features 60 seconds of images from all the islands, set against a backdrop of children dancing and playing in their schoolyard. No commentary from me on this one, thank goodness.

Tap to watch

2. Hiking to a Jungle Waterfall

One of my favorite experiences was hiking deep into the jungle of Santa Antão in search of a waterfall rumored to have a natural swimming hole. We found it!

Warning: Corny dad joke at the end. 😝

Tap to watch

3. A Desert Hike to a Seaside Swimming Hole

Fabi learned about a remote swimming hole, but we were warned it would require a bit of a hike through dry terrain that reminded me of the surface of Mars (not that I’ve been there). We took the hike and were not disappointed. Amazing!⁩

Heads up! I modified one of the images with AI, adding a few dry bones for a spooky effect. Watch for it.

Tap to watch

Coming Up

I often mention that I have written five books, but I only brag publicly about four of them.

“Only four?” some may wonder. “Hmmm. What happened to book #5?”

I’ll tell that story next time, plus how it relates to a new feature of the newsletter: “Stories from Alien Intelligence,”2 where I share instances of how I use AI to enhance my travels and other life experiences.

The case I share below led me to a wonderful discovery.

Stories from Alien Intelligence

We were wandering around Maio Island when I noticed this mural painted on the side of a restaurant. The gentleman depicted was identified as jazz musician Horace Silver.

I was curious about the mural, so I asked ChatGPT:

The answer it gave introduced me to a wonderful new American musician with Cabo Verdean roots. ChatGPT said:

The connection is deep and personal. Jazz pianist and composer Horace Silver was born in Connecticut, but his father, John Tavares Silver (Silva), was born on the island of Maio in Cabo Verde and emigrated to the United States as a young man. Horace grew up hearing Cape Verdean folk music played at family gatherings, and his father taught him many of the traditional melodies and rhythms.

That influence found its way into Silver’s music. Although he became one of the founders of hard bop jazz, he often incorporated rhythmic and melodic elements inspired by Cape Verdean music. His best-known tributes include:

• “Song for My Father,” dedicated to his father and influenced in part by the music and atmosphere of his family’s heritage.

• “The Cape Verdean Blues,” an explicit celebration of his Cape Verdean roots and his father’s homeland.

An interesting detail: Silver’s full name was Horace Ward Martin Tavares Silver. “Tavares” is a common Cape Verdean surname and came from his father’s side of the family.

If you’re traveling in Cabo Verde right now, you may notice that Silver remains a point of pride there. Along with artists such as Cesária Évora, he’s often cited as one of the most internationally significant musicians of Cape Verdean heritage, even though he spent his life in the United States.

One of the pleasant ironies of history is that a small Atlantic island nation helped shape the sound of American hard bop through a boy in Connecticut listening to his father’s Cape Verdean songs. Humans keep inventing borders; music keeps ignoring them.

Wow. What a great response! (Especially the last line. Maybe AI has a soul after all) It really made the moment standing in front of that mural more meaningful.

And Mr. Silver’s music is delightful! I’m listening to it now as I write this letter.

Don’t Miss the Barefoot Diva

If you are a fan of African music like I am, be sure to check out the other famous Cabo Verdean musician the AI mentioned: Cesária Évora. Her picture is found throughout the islands, and her music has influenced many Cape Verde diaspora musicians as well as American pop singer Madonna. Évora is also known as Cize, the Barefoot Diva, and the Queen of Morna.

Do you know any aspiring filmmakers? Évora’s life story of heartbreak and resilience would make a riveting biopic. Her music is great, too.

That’s a Wrap!

Thanks for tagging along on our trip to Cabo Verde. I’ll be back next week with more stories and scenes from the fabulous islands, including something tasty — the recipe for Cabo Verde’s national dish. Buonissimo!

I’ll also reveal the secret of the missing fifth book. Where is it? What did it say? You’ll just have to wait and see. Muhahaha!

Hello there, fellow dreamer!

This is another in a series of videos about my first book and only novel, “Map of Dreams.” In these videos, I provide the novel’s backstory, which I believe is as interesting as the story itself. Why did I write the book? What motivated me? What could I have possibly been thinking?

Since my unscripted videos might include spoilers, as a courtesy to you, dear reader, I am also providing a complete, unabridged copy of the book along with the videos. Read the chapters first, or watch the video first — your choice.

My Video

What’s the book about?

If you are one of those who (like me) enjoy holding a real book in your hands, you can buy a paperback of “Map of Dreams” from Amazon. It is also available there as an ebook. Here is the link:

Buy "Map of Dreams"

Whichever way you enjoy “Map of Dreams,” thank you for your time and interest.

Chapter Nine

THE FIRST THING WE NEED IS CASH,” Lena said. “As much as we can get our hands on. How much have you got, Tyler?”

Tyler looked in his wallet. “$27.”

“You dumb shit. How is it you can wander around this world with no cash in your pocket?”

“Hold your fire!” Tyler said, “I also have $200 stashed in my 72-hour kit. Yours too.”

Lena stopped her harangue but still looked unhappy.

Read more

By the time you get this letter, Fabi and I will be island hopping in Cabo Verde, somewhere off the west coast of Africa. We are so grateful to have the opportunity to travel as we do!

Since I won’t have access to my computer for a few weeks, I am resending a newsletter (with minor edits) that I wrote in August, 2020, shortly after Fabi and I moved to Türkiye. It’s an oldie but a goodie!

Let’s get right to it. It’s what I saw back then…

From the Balcony

I thought it was raining. The windows of our bedroom were ajar, and as my sleepy eyes opened and focused on the gauzy cream curtains billowing inward, I thought, “Rain? Is it possible?”

It was not. Datça, Türkiye, in August is as dry and hot as an Arizona desert. The sound of rain I thought I heard was actually the morning breeze wafting through the emerald fronds of a tall palm tree just outside our hotel window, combined with the rustle of blood-red Turkish flags still hanging from yesterday‘s “Victory Day" celebrating the country’s Pyrrhic victory in a 1923 battle with arch-enemy Greece.

Now I am up, sitting on the balcony, watching a calico cat walk across the rust colored tiles of the rooftop across the street. Small flocks of taupe-grey birds, a dozen or so at a time, rocket between the buildings at dazzling speeds, twisting and turning around rose bushes and lime trees in a stunning display of aerial choreography.

In another hour or so, the roof will be too hot for the cat, but for now, the day is bathtub warm and brushed with a soft, salty breeze. The rising sun, so brutal at midday, is still low on the horizon, its pure light illuminating white-washed buildings hung like starched white laundry upon the rocky gray hillside overlooking the cobalt blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

Fabi has just set before me a glass of blackberry tea and a chunk of crusty, brown coffee cake purchased from the local bakery. “Just like the kind my grandmother would make,” she said, and one bite confirms her truth. It’s a perfect morning, and a strange time for me to be thinking about poverty.

Growing Up Poor

My mom grew up “dirt poor,” as they say, the daughter of a cruel, shiftless man and a stern, stoic mother. Mom didn’t speak much of her childhood, but once, just a few years ago, while she was in her 90s, she told me how her mother would glean the frozen fields for a few handfuls of grain and boil them in water to make mush. That would be the only meal Mom would have for the day. Growing up in the Great Depression of the 1930’s was hard.

It’s no surprise to me that after Mom died, we found little treasures — crumpled balls of recycled tin foil, sheets of broken glass, boxes of pencil nubs — hidden away in every nook and cranny of her house. For her, they were all good for something and saved for a “rainy day” or for “just in case.”

That’s one way poverty affects people. They value everything, no matter how humble: even things others thoughtlessly throw away.

What is Poverty?

I generally think of poverty as a negative thing, that is, the absence of money or the things money can buy. Poverty can, and often does, mean a lack of essentials like food, clean air, and water. Poverty can mean genuine suffering.

In contrast, my childhood in the 1950’s and 60’s was a veritable Disneyland of abundance, filled with toys and opportunity. Thanks to my parents, I truly had a privileged childhood. I never suffered from poverty. Not once.

That abundance may have warped me in some ways. I wonder what kind of person I would be today if, when I was growing up, in addition to field trips to the Smithsonian Museums, the National Zoo, and Civil War battlefields, my parents and school had exposed me to real poverty. That wonder is what gave me the idea for the poverty museum.

Brant’s Poverty Museum

Imagine a poverty museum near Washington, D.C., including full-size replicas of the kinds of houses people live in around the world. Imagine little rich kids like me visit the museum to see the electric fences and barbed wire surrounding the houses of Panama, the tin-roofed shacks of Guatemala, the squalid favelas of Brazil, the stick bungalows of Indonesia, and the mud huts of Africa. Make them look, smell, and feel authentic.

I wonder how I would have felt if I had to rummage for my lunch in the Museum’s “fetid garbage piles of India,” exposition, just so I got a taste of how so many others live every day.

The Poverty Museum would provide spoiled American teenagers like me with week-long camps where they would receive fewer than 800 calories a day and dung-soaked water to drink. They would sleep on the bare earth with one eye open, watching for snakes and other wild animals released onto the Museum grounds. They would play as others play; learn as others learn; and live as others live, just for a week or three.

No showers or hot water. No A/C. Maybe a taste of dysentery. Then, see if I ever complain about life in America, which I did as a teenager, and sometimes still do.

I suspect a trip to the Poverty Museum would have made a big impression on me. Nothing teaches gratitude like walking in another’s shoes for a few miles, especially if those shoes have holes in them.

I Was and Am Privileged

I’ve seen bitter poverty through a camera lens, but I have never experienced it. Neither have any of my descendants, although some came close. Thanks to my Mom and my Dad, who was also relatively poor, I had a rich upbringing and was able to pass it forward to my children.

How we see poverty, how we think about it, all depends on one’s point of view. My grandkids probably think I was poor as a child because Santa only brought me one gift for Christmas (usually a sweater passed down from my older brother, blah!) and I never got exactly what I wanted: a race car set. I had to save up and buy that for myself!

Poverty often means suffering, but a broader definition of poverty is “an absence of things,” suggesting it is not always bad.

When Poverty Serves

When there is no ambient light from a nearby city, we see the brilliance and glory of the starry sky, the Milky Way, and the planets. We experience wonder in a poverty of light.

When we have the absence of human-generated sound, rumbling trucks, jet airplanes, and cell phones ringing, then, as I am enjoying right now on this balcony, we hear the symphony of silence that only nature can conduct. The lonely call of a distant bird. The warm buzz of a bee. The soft rustling of the wind in the palms. The gentle patter of rain, when it finally comes. We find peace in a poverty of sound.

The great jazz musician Miles Davis believed that a single note from his trumpet, played with heart and soul, was more meaningful than a thousand notes played without thought or care. (Words are like that, too, although I wouldn’t know. I’m a blabbermouth!)

When we have a break from nonstop bad news about COVID and bad-faith politics, we remember that the world is good and healthy and that “this too shall pass.” We have our faith restored in a poverty of information.

Sometimes less is more.

That’s a Wrap!

I’m back in the present, writing this on May 25, 2026, just hours before we leave for Africa. I’d love to hear your thoughts, perspectives, and opinions on my concept of a poverty museum. Please leave comments! I try to respond to each one.

By the time you get this letter, you will have received two posts about “Map of Dreams,” one of which is posted behind Substack’s paywall. If you get hung up at the paywall, you have two options to blast through it.

First, and easiest, is just to upgrade from here. Your contribution helps Substack keep the lights on, and my portion goes to charity.

Subscribe now

But wait! There’s more! There is a second option.

Thanks for following along. I’ll see you… on the road!