"Tracks in the Sand" Bonus Episode

Entertainer and reggae star Bob Marley, Rita Marley and the manager of the Whalers, Don Taylor, are now patients in the university hospital after receiving gunshot wounds during a shooting incident which took place at Marley's home at 56 Hope Road tonight.

How long shall they kill our prophets.

While we stand aside and look the.

Passing of another Jamaican superstar.

Reggae dynamo Peter Tosh, one of the original winners, had passed away.

By the gun.

By the gun.

Glory to John.

Let him be Pray.

Because his righteousness govern the world.

Summertime in South Florida means my morning walks keep starting earlier each day as I find myself trying to beat the heat and humidity before they settle in.

By the time the sun comes up over the horizon, I'm already finishing up, taking one last look at the pre dawn sky.

Listening to the waves break against the shore, watching the seagulls in turn circle, looking for the first catch of the day.

And then there are those mystical trails in the sand, these wide tracks left by loggerhead turtles who come ashore in the dark of the night to lay their eggs.

Every summer, these ancient creatures paddle across thousands of miles of Atlantic ocean to return to the very spot where they hatched decades earlier, ensuring the survival of their species.

I call them the original big beautiful mamas.

BBMs.

300 pound beauties who carry the memory of home in their souls, finding their way back home to this exact coastline after all those years of riding the currents.

Of course, I'm rarely alone these days as I've been recently joined by our own BBM Big Beautiful mama Sia, working on that summer body, tightening it up for our daughter's wedding.

Right, Big.

I'm beautiful and I'm a mama, but I'm not big.

Well, as meatloaf says, two out of three ain't bad.

You know who meatloaf is, right?

No, you never heard meatloaf?

Two out of three ain't bad.

Anyway, you're enjoying the beach, right?

I'm really starting to see the difference after a few weeks.

Don't you think so?

Oh yeah, I'm noticing an inch here, an inch there.

Step back, let me see.

Oh yeah, your wrist, your forearm.

Actually very toned.

I'm seeing it.

That's funny.

And speaking of bodies in motion, Sia, last week we got early enough to see some of the baby turtles hatching and heading out to the sea.

Yeah, I actually watched the babies going out into the water.

Thought it was fascinating.

That was the first time I saw something like that.

I stood there for maybe about 20 minutes just watching the turtles, the baby turtles.

It was awesome.

It's amazing how they know how to find their way back to the water and how to even survive those little tiny things.

Makes you realize that there is a God.

Ansi and I are not alone.

Others come to witness this daily resurrection.

We pass by the same faces day after day.

Some sitting still, lost in their own worlds.

Others, like us, in motion.

No time to chat.

Just a quick nod, a passing greeting.

And in the absence of conversation, we write stories in our minds, compose imaginary scenarios and wonder out loud, who are these people?

Yeah, we do.

Every day, don't we?

Yeah.

We have the monk, as we call him, a bald, clean, shaved man who every morning meticulously places a sarong wrap from Thailand on the sand and meditates in the very same spot.

Eyes closed, earbuds in his calm face angled at the distant horizon.

Sia thinks he's a cancer survivor like her.

Why?

Because he's bald?

No, that's not it.

He.

He just has a look of someone that has seen death and conquered it.

And I can relate.

Wow.

Someone who's seen death and conquered it.

You can tell that?

Yeah.

Okay, who am I to argue with survivor's intuition?

You better not.

And how about that one we call Iron Woman?

Oh my gosh, she's amazing.

You see her rocking a bikini at 75?

I'm proud of her.

You can't keep up with her?

Oh, no, I can't keep up with her.

She's a beast.

Only in south Florida are 75 year olds beasts.

And what about your sexy friend who always stops you with a red head?

Who?

Pammy the turtle watcher?

Yeah, maybe she was sexy about 60 years ago.

Well, actually, she is still pretty sexy.

Come to think of it, I love her energy.

Her little notebook and pencil tracking the new morning turtle nest.

Oh, that's why you were blushing.

Oh, I saw you turn red.

She waits all year for the turtles to arrive, and you can see the joy in her face.

You know, she's a true testament to the importance of having a passion in life, no matter what age you are.

Find something that moves you physically, spiritually, emotionally.

Even if it is a 300 pound turtle.

Whatever gets you out of bed in the morning.

Yeah, whatever gets you out of bed.

After a while, you start to notice that this morning spectacle is where millions of years of evolution meets the modern world.

Concrete and glass condos line the coastline.

Parking meters limit your time with the infinite.

Even though sea turtles have to navigate around chaise lounges and umbrellas to find their perfect spot on the beach, humanity's footprints intersecting, obstructing nature's path.

And speaking of humanity, I've noticed that we early morning beach dwellers usually break down into one of three categories.

And depending which group you're in, it reveals something profound about the way you see or don't see the world.

First, there are the young ones.

And God bless the youth.

Teens and college kids, mostly females, in pairs and packs.

One strikes a pose while another directs the shot.

After all, today might be the day they get that perfect image.

The video that changes everything, that turns them into the next viral sensation.

Well, at least till tomorrow.

These young people don't really notice the sunrise itself.

For them, it's a backdrop for their performance.

A generation who grew up on social media, they live consumed by the approval of others, so caught up in crafting the perfect image that they miss the actual beauty unfolding right in front of them.

Their entire experience is.

Is filtered through the imaginary reactions of strangers who may or may not hit like before, moving on to the next trending video.

Well, see, I guess we were all young once, right?

Looking for validation.

But these days with social media, there's a lot of pressure on these young girls.

Do you see what they wear, Henry?

And how they pose?

Yeah, that's true.

They're just children.

The second group are more solitary, those who sit or stand alone, also with camera phones in hand.

But they're not in the shot, only the sun, the sand, and the sea.

They too are looking for the perfect picture to post, hoping to capture this moment and share it with the world.

Hey, look where I am, what I see, what I feel.

They've made themselves the center of their own universe.

So caught up in documenting their experience that they forget to actually have it.

They barely look up to see the actual sunrise.

And that's mainly just to center the shot.

What they don't understand is that a picture may last a lifetime, but the actual moment only happens once.

And then we have the third group, those who leave the phone at home or in their cars.

They understand that nothing could really capture the magic of that moment.

To even try would be a waste of time that could be spent enjoying it, cherishing it, embracing it.

These are the ones who have found the right balance between being present in the moment and understanding their place in a larger story.

They embody what reggae great Peter Tosh meant when he sang about being a man of the past, living in the present and walking in the future.

The lyrics from the song mystic man have become a guidepost, or should I say a recipe for existence.

Know where you're from, where you are, and where you're going.

We must learn from the past without being consumed by it.

Live in the present with enough awareness that we enjoy each day and let nothing pass us by.

And walking in the future that suggests the right pace, not too rushed.

Have a plan and a goal, a vision for where you want to end up.

It reminds me of that urban legend I've mentioned before on the show about the grand opening of Disney World in 1971, five years after Walt Disney's death.

His wife Lillian, was at attendance at the dedication ceremony when a reporter commented that it was a shame Walt wasn't there to see the opening.

Lily and his wife replied, he did see it, long before he died or it wouldn't be here.

I love that story.

Is it really true?

On our podcast it is.

The same premise goes for men like Peter Tosh and Bob Marley and Bunny Wailer.

They saw what their music could be long before what it became, which is why reggae is here.

They were mystics in the truest sense, men who understood that revolution begins in the heart and mind before it manifests in the streets.

This past season of Roots Land, I've done my very best to tell what I believe is the real story behind Peter Tosh's murder, trying to bring about the true justice that this mystic man deserves.

We have a petition up@change.org urging the governor General to appoint a commission to look into the case.

We've presented our findings to the children of Peter Tosh and to the families of other victims of that night, to those who run symposiums, to the press and media, many sites and forums refusing to even mention new details of his killing, even removing posts with links to the petition to reopen the case.

And as I listen out, all I hear are crickets.

Silence from those who should be the very first shouting for justice for Peter Tosh on the street corners.

I understand there are those who are part of this conspiracy of silence because their lives are in legitimate danger if they speak up.

Real fear, real consequences.

But others willing participants to let the past be the past.

So many comments on social media keep repeating what good would it do to dredge up the past?

And of course, many of these comments come from those who have ulterior motives for keeping this investigation closed, an investigation that implicates an entire corrupt political system.

And I was disturbed and disappointed to keep hearing about the cost of reopening an investigation.

Because when you think about how much reggae music and Rasta culture has brought to the island in terms of publicity, goodwill and international tourism, the main revenue source for the island.

You realize that men like Peter Tosh put Jamaica on the map, and the love for his music will keep it there forever.

Man, such a mystic man I'm just a mystic man I don't drink no champagne.

When you really listen to the lyrics of mystic man, you realize this is quintessential Tosh.

And you can imagine why a political and corporate system would want his demise.

Here was a man declaring his independence from every system designed to control the masses, Rejecting their drugs, their food, their entertainment, their religious programming.

A man who understood that true freedom meant refusing to participate in your own oppression.

The song was so ahead of its time, documenting and predicting the current epidemic caused by legal prescription drugs promoted by the pharmaceutical industrial complex.

With lyrics that seemed conspiratorial, almost comical at the time.

He denounced processed meats, junk food, soda that contains poisonous dyes for color, which, by the way, is the current hot topic among health advocates, with several food dyes now being banned by the FDA.

Everything that Tosh was saying from 50 years ago hangs over us today like divine prophecies.

From his advocacy for cannabis medical uses to the way politicians and political parties divide the people and keep them distracted in order to take more control and consume more power.

He saw through the matrix before we had words for it, Peter Tosh was leaving us tracks in the sand like I see each morning on my sunrise walk.

Messages from a man of the past who was walking in the future, who foresaw so much of what is now occurring in this modern day world.

Every single day, we are all crossing tracks of those who came before us.

Yet we are all so distracted to even notice what's been given to us.

Not even hidden messages, they're out in the open.

These wise, ancient elders, bush doctors, mystic men, ancestors long gone, are reaching at us every day, trying to grab our attention and send us messages.

Stop trying to document the moment.

Be the moment.

Peter Tosh embodied that third group, the one that understood there are times in life that are too sacred to document.

His militancy wasn't for show.

It was for truth.

His spirituality wasn't backdrop for content, it was the substance of his existence.

While others were crafting images for approval, Peter was crafting a life of authenticity.

The tension between documenting it and living it was key to understanding both Peter's artistic choices and the circumstances that led to his death.

He was killed because he refused to compromise his message for commercial palatability, because he understood that real revolution happens in the living, not in the posting, the season began as an investigation into the murder of Peter.

Peter Tosh.

As we wind down season eight, wanted dread or alive, I wanted to leave you with what I learned from telling his story.

Peter understood something that most of us have forgotten.

Real change happens when you know where you come from, live fully where you are, and walk deliberately towards where you're going.

Your personal history, your family history becomes the compass that keeps you grounded while you navigate life's current and hopefully guides you back home.

But this presence, this awareness that the mystic man sang about, it's impossible to achieve when you're staring down at a screen instead of looking up at life.

Peter Tosh left us his own mystical tracks in the sand, something more valuable than content.

He left us truth.

Some messages are too sacred to be commodified.

While we're all distracted by likes and posts and manufactured outrage, that's exactly when the system moves against us.

And no, not everyone can be a revolutionary like Peter Dodge.

But every one of us can choose to stop performing our lives and start living them.

Right now, someone is walking on a beach at sunrise, phone tucked away, eyes wide open to the miracle unfolding in front of them.

Right now, someone is choosing to be fully present instead of everywhere else.

A new day dawns and another mystic man is born.

Or mystic woman.

Yes.

Or mystic woman ready to leave their tracks in the sand.

That's beautiful.

I'm a mystic man Such a mystic man.

I'm just a mystic man.

I'm a.

Do I don't drink no champagne don't you know something?

No, I don't And I'm a do.

I don't know I'm a dope I don't sniff them cocaine don't sniff your brain I'm a do I'm a dope no I don't I'm a dope.

Don't take him off me.

Don't take no my dangerous I'm unknown I'm a dope I'm undone I don't take no heroin don't take no, no.

Cause I'm a man of the past and I'm living in the present and I Walking in the future sleep Stepping in the future man of the past and now Living in the present and walking Walking.

Produced by Henry Cade.