I believe in miracles.

I  believe in miracles. Sometimes people question whether Jesus turned water into wine,







but I don't mean that kind of miracle. Water itself is a miracle. Think about it. Liquid oxygen is toxic, so is liquid Hydrogen. They are both dangerous, explosive, volatile materials.

Logically their combination would be deadly. But combine Hydrogen and Oxygen, let them share a couple of atoms and what do you get? H20. So Water itself is a miracle, what to speak of wine.

One day I was playing with the ukulele and thought, why not make a video? I need to understand more about the technology if I'm going to continue teaching. So I goofed around a bit and came up with a reasonable version of "Beyond the Sea" by Bobby Darin. It took me hours to understand how to upload it to YouTube, but finally I did it. I didn't really care if anyone saw it or not, I was happy to have learned something new.

Here's the link  Captain Panic Ukulele Video

I did this entirely as a whim. I recorded it once or twice and then I could see I looked like a sad old man, so I pepped it up and really tried to smile. It came out very comical. I was very depressed when I recorded this, because my brother Philo had just died of Pancreatic Cancer.

I had lost my mother in 2011, and Philo suddenly passed a year later. My life was in turmoil. I was hanging on by a thread. I began to question everything I knew. When my mother died, I thought, "How is it possible that we end as a box of ashes?" "Is that all there is?"

After I made the ukulele video I forgot all about it. I began talking to my other brother Jean-Pierre on the phone. We hadn't seen each other in 37 years. I don't know how that was possible. First there was the divorce and he went with my step-father, the Marquis of Aubignosc. Then I lived in Mexico for a while and he was a cowboy in Reno, Nevada.

After that, I joined the Hare Krishna People and he began life as a truck-driver. He's driven some 20 million miles since then. I've logged a few myself.

We agreed to meet in Fresno last July. He doesn't have a fixed residence, but lives in his 18-wheeler. So I told him fine, we'll meet, catch up on old times, and ride Interstate 5 from Fresno to Seattle.

That's me in front of Jean-Pierre's Truck

My brother Jean-Pierre: Hell's Angel, War Vet, Truck-driver supreme.

Seeing my brother again was a true miracle. We had a lot of fun riding up and down: Fresno to Stockton to Sacramento to Corning, California, to Coburg, Oregon, to Portland, to Seattle and Snohomish. He mostly hauls glass--huge panels, 80 tons at a time.

He loves the wandering life and doesn't want to settle down. I've invited him to Mexico, but the road calls.

Brother Pierre

Pierre with the amazing "Profile"

The suprise of my life was when he told me we were not alone, but would ride with his dog, "Profile" a terrifying pit bull terrier. Jean-Pierre told me he couldn't come to Mexico because he had to take care of his faithful dog. Profile was a great dog who knew how to defend a truck. He died last year, so my brother drives alone now..

Long lost brothers reunited after 37 years

Our reunion was heartfelt. We are very different, but blood is thicker than water, I suppose. I really never thought I would see him again, so in a way this was a miracle.

Even more miraculous: when I returned to Mexico I had an e-mail from an old friend. It was Goswami Maharaja, asking me if I were Captain Panic. There was so much between us. I had a special relationship with Goswami Maharaja. Just as Jean-Pierre is my long lost brother, Goswami Maharaja was my long-lost spiritual brother. We parted ways in the 1990s. I expected to open yoga centers in Central America, but it didn't work out. I was ashamed of how far I had fallen from a high spiritual standard. But the visit with my brother Jean-Pierre gave me the spiritual strength to respond. "How would you like to visit Thailand with your wife?" the email said.

This was a clear challenge: accept the call to adventure or forever slide into mediocrity. I thought, "well if I can ride shotgun with a hell's angel truck-driver from Lodi to Snohomish, I can fly to Thailand to see my long-lost godbrother."

"I'm in," I wrote.