The Great Adventure: A Journey Written from Above.

By Brian Jackson

From a life that was filled with drugs and alcohol, you will be amazed at Brian's life changing experiences.
Once consdered Armed and Dangerous and facing years in Prison, Brian is now a multi World Record Holder with different World Record Organizations.

Follow the journey as it takes you from the depths of the drug world and drug deals, to the mountain peaks as Brian breaks World Record after World Record.

Ever felt like you were too small, too short, too slow, nobody from no where?

Enjoy the walk that shares how each one of us is capable of making our dreams come true,
if we just Believe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463435738

Brian Jackson

From a life of Drugs and Alcohol to being a multi world record holder, Brian shares how he was able to change his life around presenting at schools, churchs, camps and conferences around the country. Since 1992, Brian has traveled across the nation and world presenting The I Believe Program to over 1 million people. When the audiences he had spoke to could not remember his name, they started calling him The I Believe Guy and the name stuck. Once known for being armed and dangerous, Brian is now known as The I Believe Guy. Brian is a Cherokee, Creek and Seminole Native American from Muskogee Oklahoma. Standing only 5' 5", Brian has competed against some of the strongest men in the world for what he does. "It doesn't matter how big or small you are. Where you come from, he color of your skin, how old you are, or how many mistakes you have made in your life". Take your gifts and talents that God has given each one of us, Push those talents as hard as you can and don't let anything stop you from reaching your goals in life. If you do that, you may be surprised what you can become, if you BELIEVE Brian Jackson, The I Believe Guy

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What made me:

I don’t want to really bore you with too many details, but some things help bring the story to a full picture.

I was born on October 20th, 1964, the same day as my dad’s birthday at the General Hospital in Los Angeles, California. I loved having my birthday the same as my dad’s birthday for 39 years, never once in my mind expecting that one day he would be gone and it would turn into something that would make me dread that day. I miss him terribly.

My childhood was one I would compare to the Brady Bunch. The house I remember most was on a dead end street in West Covina, and I was really happy there. We had a lemon tree out in the back yard and all of loved eating those lemons, especially Paula. Although there were many awesome memories I also remember the fights that my mom and dad would have and even though at the time I didn’t understand what was going on and I remember them drinking. Memories of my parents yelling at each other, and the time my dad threw one of those old glass jars of cold cream at my mom, and it hit me in the ankle taking me off my feet. I thought my ankle was surely broke. The weekends that they would drop us off at the skating rink, even though it was more of a babysitter, I loved going skating. Till this day I love skating.

One day my brothers and I went scavenging at the house on the end of the street to see what was left behind from the family that had just moved out is a memory that I will forever have. One of our biggest finds was an old surf board. The fin was broke off, but who needed one anyway right? We all had good imaginations and we wanted it anyway. We took that board back home and pondered what we could do with it. We took turns and played out surfing the big waves, but that grew old as in our minds as we won every surfing championship ever possible. It didn’t take our young adventurous minds to discover that on that curved board, if one of us, meaning me, would stand on one end, and someone else jumped on the other end, it would send me up in the air like a rocket! Now, with that discovery, the only thing missing was to figure out how to make me go higher and any stunts we might be able to do along the way. A chair came out of the garage to give them a higher point to jumping off from. A second chair came out for a landing area, and then the pillows were next. The chair didn’t have much padding when landing and it would hurt a little. Next was for both brothers to stand on that chair and jump on the end of the board, sending me even higher. I was in heaven, almost literally. I don’t know if they were getting bored, tired or were my brothers trying to get rid of me but the next stunt was planned out without much of my input. I’m not sure really who did what so I will word it this way. Michael stood on the chair, he was heavier after all, and Travis stood a couple feet in front of me. The plan, sounded good at the time, was for Michael to jump onto that board, sending me up and for me to arch over like I was diving into a pool, and land on Travis’s back. Sounded good, sounded possible and more importantly, sounded cool! I watched as Michael jumped off that chair, I leaned down to jump up when he landed, it would certainly send me higher up in the air I went. I looked down at Travis, my landing point, my speed was too much, my arch was wrong and by now we were a little sweaty and having no brakes, as I came down on Travis, I slipped down his back and landed head first onto the concrete sidewalk with a thud! I seen a blinding flash and I collapsed into that unforgiving ground. I had missed the mark and was now paying for it. I don’t know if you remember the first headache you ever had, but I remember mine and this was definitely it. I was rushed by my two loving brothers to the garage and left there, in pain. Not sure if I would live or die and not really caring at that point, lying on something that I don’t even remember what it was, until my dad came home later that evening. I guess I should have known then, that my life would be nothing less than interesting.

I lived and was happy in California till I was 9 years old and my family came to Oklahoma for a vacation to visit my grandma and great grandma. From my best recollections, we were here about two weeks when my parents made the decision to stay permanently. The decision was made for my parents, both brothers and sister to drive back to California and move everything back to our new home in Wewoka. Why did I leave my name out of that decision? Well, I wasn’t on that moving trip, for whatever reason, I was left behind to stay with a grandma that I had just met two weeks earlier and wait for my family to do the moving. If you get a little hint of resentment in that comment, it’s because there is. I didn’t want to stay behind, and fought and fussed and probably even threw a fit in my attempts to be taken with the family. SO there I was, 1500 miles away from any family I really knew, with a woman that took the next two weeks scaring the hell out of me. It started with a visit to the Seminole Nation Museum, looking at artifacts and such, stuff the really made no sense to me. Then the stories started. I was introduced to something they call a stagini, in Seminole tradition, a man that can change himself into an owl. Now, at 9 years old, that was scary enough, but my grandma would go on to tell me of two men in town that had been feuding for years. It all came down to one night an owl was tormenting him, and he shot that owl with his gun. My grandma said she was at home that night when someone knocked on her door. When she asked who it was, and one of those two men answered her telling her he needed help he was hurt. My grandma had already heard about the other man shooting an owl earlier that evening. The window of her bedroom was beside the front porch on the back side so she could look out and if whoever was knocking would not see her look at her window. She looked out to see an owl with blood on one wing. Now, the tradition goes on to tell you that you can never look into the eyes of one of these staginis or that means some type of death will come, so my grandma was very scared. Needless to say, I was scared of owls for many years after that.

The next day or two, not really sure with all that happened, just know the facts, my Grandpa Mac was to come and take me fishing. Now Grandpa Mac looked funny and smelled even funnier. His nose had been broke playing ball in his early years so he looked like Carl Malden, and he smelled due to his dip and like moth balls he kept in his apartment, but he was fun to be around. He always had a little bit of spit on the corner of his lip and would often slur his words making it hard to understand everything he was telling me. While fishing, Grandpa Mac told me he would take me fishing again, but I was to go catch some grasshoppers to use for bait next time. SO the next morning, I sat in my grandmas front yard, old coffee can with a lid that Grandpa Mac had cut some air holes in and was catching as many grasshoppers as I could to go fishing with. My grandma came out and asked what I was doing. I told her catching grasshoppers to go fishing with. She said, You know, if any of those die in that can, they will come back and haunt you. Slowly taking off that lid, I looked down into that can and seen that half of them were already dead and I felt this huge weight on my chest as all I could imagine was all these grasshoppers coming back after me.

Later that night, getting ready for bed, I went to brush my teeth. As I brushed, I looked around that bathroom, and seen a set of what looked like teeth in a glass of water. Scared, I spit my toothbrush out, and yelled for my grandma. She came running in, and asked what was wrong. I told her there was something that looked like teeth in that glass in the bathroom and she started laughing. She went in the bathroom and came out with those teeth in her hand, making the teeth open and close and ran after me saying, these are my teeth silly. I ran around that living room, under the table and was terrified. I had never seen anyone teeth out of their mouth and never anyone play with them. If you are starting to get worried for me, thank you. My family finally came back after two weeks, and even though I know now, that’s not a long time, to a 9 year old, away from his immediate family, I was scared.

It took many years for those nightmares to become fond memories that I now look back on and laugh, and sometimes wish I could go back for just a day.

The Drug Years:

Times like these are hard for me, so try and be patient. As I look back at those times, it has really changed my mind on how I not only raised my own children, but how I look at things and judge people. I had gone through several years of track after an injury put me out of football. I remember Ricky, a good friend of mine asking me why didn’t I go out for the track team. I figured since I was Native American, and I have seen all these other Indians run really fast, I should be able to run really fast. After all, Billy Mills was my hero, and he went on to win the Gold medal at the Olympics. I went to the locker room the day of sign up for track season. The Coaches name was Coach Tinsley and he asked what event I was trying out for. I told him I wanted to run the 100 yard dash. He first asked me how fast was I? I figured there was no need to lie that he would find out soon enough so I told him unless I had a football in my hand, and some big ugly guy chasing me, I was not very fast. That caused his first frown. He said ok, I need some high jumpers and pole vaulters, how high can you jump he asked? I responded I can’t jump very high; I have little bitty legs, when I played football, and they called me rabbit, not frog. That caused his second frown. Staring at me, then smiling, he said, I have the perfect place for you, the two mile run! Three things came into mind when I heard those three words, That’s a lot of work. In my mind I was thinking, I came out for track because I knew they went to track meets on Thursday and Friday and to me that mean that they got to miss school, and 100 yard dash would only take me about 15 seconds of work and I would get to goof off the rest of the day. Boy was I ever wrong, I figured out right then, Coach Tinsley did not like me, and was going to try and run me to death.

The first year was hell. I ran, and ran and ran. Well, actually I did as little of running as I had to. I very seldom listened to the Coach and like some of the others; I was out there to take those Thursdays and Fridays off from school. So I guess you figured it right, I never did very well that first year. I remember Coach Tinsley telling me how disappointed he was in me and how much potential I had, but that I would have to really push myself harder that I was. Before my sophomore year was over, I had started running home after school instead of riding the bus, even with my backpack full of books. That summer found me running as often as I could and was even going to the skating rink more often to work on those muscles too. When my junior year came around and track season came up, I again went out for track season. It didn’t take Coach Tinsley long to realize I had stayed in shape and was ready to this season. One of our two good long distance runners was named Ted, and I remember following him in a race on more than one meet. I just could not come up with the nerve to pass him. To me he was an elder, to be respected and passing him was not an option. Even though I knew he was holding me back, I would not pass him.

It was the third track meet when again I found myself behind Ted, and had slowed down to keep pace with him. Around the corner, I could see Coach, and the knots started in my stomach as I knew he would be yelling at me to pass Ted. Sure enough, as we came around that corner I could already hear the coach yelling, pass that man in front of you, and pass that man!

Maybe it was the yelling, maybe it was the way he said it, but I no longer looked at Ted as my team mate or as an elder, he was just another man in the race and I had to pass him to get to where I wanted to be. As I passed Ted, I remember saying sorry man and ran on.

That was not the only time I had difficulty in passing someone but it did help me get over the hurdle. It took the next track meet to find my first medal. We were in Bristow, a sandy track, unlike most that had been changed to either pavement style or rubber. It was loose and hard to keep your footings, especially around the corners. 2 miles is 8 times around a normal track, this meet, I was in the lead, with one lap left to win my gold. There was coach once again, along with some of my other team mates, yelling at me only this time they were yelling that the next runner was closing in fast and to kick it into high gear. I will never forget the feeling as I came around that last corner, the side that the bleachers we on. That crowd, not knowing me from didley, started cheering as I started my final kick, screaming, yelling some even standing. What an awesome feeling that was and I ran harder crossing that finish line and winning my first medal.

I went on to win several more medals that year, and it took me to the regional’s track meet. If I could get in the top three, I had an invite to the state track meet. Something I had only dreamed of at the time. I got second place at our regional and was on to the State Track Meet in the 2 mile run!

Preparation for the State Track Meet was a good time for me. Newspapers were coming out to do interviews on Bruce and I. Bruce was a team mate that had also made his way to the State Track meet in the 400 meters. We worked and trained hard. We were ready. The meet was on a Saturday and I remember it being a very hot day, but we were having fun. My mom and dad were there, something I was not use to. In a total of three years, my dad had only been to three track meets but it didn’t matter to me that day. My dad took me down to the concession and bought me a State Track meet t-shirt celebrating my achievement. We sat in those hot bleachers all morning. My event was not till after 2:00 that afternoon. The coach had come up and told Bruce and I to get out of the sun, but little did we know, it was too late. The heat had taken its toll, and we would both find out as soon as we hit that track for our event.

My race was before Bruce’s; they called out 2 mile run finals to the track. I walked down those bleachers to my place in line. Runners from the class 2A schools around the state lined up on both sides of me. I was wondering, who was going to win and what place would I end up in. My goal was to end up in the top 5, and I knew I had trained hard enough to accomplish that. When they shot off that starting gun, we all took off running. It didn’t take long for me to realize just how much that sun had taken its toll on me, for within that first lap I was already drained and gasping for each breath I was taking. I could see the disappointment in Coach Tinsley’s eyes as he was next to the track yelling at me to push it and he could already see I had nothing to push. I finished the day 11th out of 12 runners. I felt like a big disappointment to my coach, team mates and myself. I kept telling myself that was good though, I should be proud of myself and happy with what I had accomplished. It wasn’t till after school was out and we were on vacation that my mind would change about that feeling.

My family had gone to Tahlequah to spend a few days at the river like we had usually did ever summer. And just like every other time, my mom and dad had gone to the bar for a few hours. When they got back to camp they had brought a couple friends they had made while at the bar. While my dad introduced us, he came up to me and said "This is

Brian, he went to state this year in track, and I felt he was proud telling this stranger this, then he went on to say but I won’t be happy till he wins state".

I don’t know if it was the alcohol talking or not and really didn’t care, I heard those words, and they hurt more than I can tell you. It had left a lasting effect on me, and I was not going to forget it for a long time.

Those words kept digging and digging at me. No longer was my dad proud of me, no matter how many times he might have said he was, all I heard was he would not be proud of me till I won state. I never really told my dad how I felt about that moment, and maybe I should have, after he was sober. Maybe he didn’t even remember saying it, I don’t know. But my spirit had been broke and I no longer cared how far I could run, or how fast I could get there, I just went through the motions.

Later that same summer, I had taken my girlfriend to a movie there in Wewoka, and was walking back to my parent’s gas station, I heard someone holler my name, Brian as I turned and looked down that alley. There was Gary, one of my best friends since 4th grade. There were two or three other guys around him and he hollered at me again, Brian and he motioned for me to come down there. I took my girlfriends hand and we walked down that alley. As I got closer, I looked at all of them, Gary sitting on what I remember to be a wood box of some kind. As he stood up, I finally realized what they were doing. Gary reached his hand out, with a joint in it, towards me. Now, I knew this wrong, after all we have all been told when offered drugs of any kind to walk away, say no and leave, but this was my best friend. My mind was asking the questions, what if I say no; would he laugh at me, would he stop being my friend? After all, my best friend would never give me anything that would hurt me, would he? He would never give me anything that would get me in trouble. No one ever prepared me for this moment when my best friend offered me drugs! Then Gary surprised me by saying Brian, I’ve seen how fast you can run and I’ve seen how far you can run, but if you smoke a joint before, you can run faster and farther. I remember thinking to myself that I knew that was a lie, but not wanting anyone to laugh at me or stop being my friend, I reached over and took that joint and smoked it.

Now I can come up with all kinds of reasons for me smoking that joint that day, but in that moment, my life would forever change. I should have seen the repercussions. The first was for my girlfriend to break up with me over that. She said if I was going to do those things, she wanted no part of it and walked away.

After that day, I would get calls from friends inviting me over to smoke with them. From Gary’s house to Nathans, then Rodney’s and the list just go on and on. Before long, you know the story, I was offered alcohol. Awe comes on, they would say, everyone else is doing it, so not wanting to lose any friends, or have anyone laugh at me. I started drinking on top of doing the drugs. Oh I was having fun alright, smoking pot, drinking, and partying. There for a while, it was every night and sometimes the days too, which of course I could not afford.

It didn’t take me long to realize I needed more money and if I sold half of what I bought, I would come out ahead with smoke left over. So I started dealing drugs.

After all, it didn’t take any brains to be a drug dealer. It started small, quarter bags here and there, sometimes a dime bag. I quickly learned that I loved to roll joints or as they were better known for, cigars or big ole fat hooters as we sometimes called them.

I went back to school a couple months later, finally a senior at High School! I could not wait to be a senior. I was finally top dog on campus. People would ask me if I was going to go back to state that year, would I win state and even what college I was going to go to. I slacked off a lot more that year than planned. I remember being offered a drug called rush. I was in a liquid in a small container you could hide in your pocket. All you had to do was take a good whiff and it would make your head rush, mind wonder and you would completely forget where you were or what you were doing, a very strong drug. It didn’t cost a lot, but it didn’t last long either. I would go out to my car on breaks and lunch time and take a couple whiffs before the next class. I don’t know how I got thru some of those classes, or how I wasn’t caught. Sometimes I wish I had been. This along with the pot I was smoking every chance I got, made my senior year a lot different than I had planned.

I remember the day one of my friends, Mark and I took off and went to test drive a car. It was a nice Camaro with a lot of power. We ended up skipping school all day and driving around in that car driving all the way to Shawnee and around that high school. We had days where we would just take off, or go thru the day in a haze never seemingly to worry about anything.

As my parent would take off for days at a time, I would have parties at the house while they were gone, always making sure things were cleaned up before they returned.

I had dreams of my own at the time, it was after all to be just like my hero, Billy Mills and one day goes to the Olympics! Smoking pot and drinking for the summer had taken its toll, in fact, I never won any medals my senior year. My senior year, which should have and could have been my best year in high school, became my worst. I was a huge disappointment to everyone that once meant a lot to me but I was also realizing I no longer cared about many of those things anymore.

I barely graduated High School. I watched as some of my friends went on to college, where I should have gone. Some of my friends at least got jobs, I was at a place in my life that all I wanted to do was stay up late as I could partying, then sleep all day afterwards. That seemed to go well, for a while. At these parties, you always run into some of the same people.

It’s only fair that before I send you to meet Dan, one of the biggest and baddest drug dealers I ever knew, I take you on a short journey of how I got to where I met Dan.

I had started out as a small time drug dealer, you know, small dime bags here and there, then moving up to quarter bags and even selling an ounce when I could. We would party at my parent’s house when they would be traveling, and always got a kick out of being the big guy with all the drugs. Yea, it didn’t take me long to get hooked.

Soon I was turning weed over as fast as I could get my hands on it, and along the way making more contacts. I found that a lot of dealers were reluctant to stick their necks out too far and would front weed out to see. So I jumped in both feet and started selling pounds of pot.

My brother got me a job with a telephone company in Oklahoma City. We would install phone systems. I never smoked during working hours, but was always ready to light one up as soon as 5:00 came around. I worked there for almost a year with my brother. Then there was a lay off. The company had sent me to several phone schools and really didn’t want to lose the money they had invested in me so they called with an offer. The offer was to transfer to Kansas City division until things got better and they could bring me back to Oklahoma City.

Within the first few days of meeting my new boss, he asked if I smoked pot. I felt like I had hit a jackpot! I was making more money and meeting more people that smoked and they even had more money. I soon learned who all smoked pot in the company and where to get larger quantities so I could take it back to Seminole and resell it. It was there that I really started to take a like to another drug, cocaine. I had done a few lines here and there in the past, but not only was there more coke to do there, the quality was as pure as you could get anywhere. I got to where I was doing at least a gram to three grams a day and loving it.

As time went by, I met more dealers and more opportunities came my way. I moved in with a guy named Keith that had an extra room at his house and was looking for a roommate. He owned his own business and was not home a lot, so the house would be all to myself most of the time. The rent was reasonable and the house was really nice. I met more of Keith’s friends, all whom seemed to do one kind of drug or another.

One friend was Steve, really like the coke. He lived a couple blocks away with his wife. She was gorgeous, and all Steve’s male friends made passes at her, but she would just laugh them off. They would have some kind of get together almost every weekend, and we would go over there and eat, watch the games and smoke pot. Steve would come by in the evenings he worked before his shift started at the railroad company and do a line or two with me, always telling me he didn’t want to do it alone and that he didn’t want his wife knowing how much coke he was doing. My nickname for him was quick stop. He would come by, do a couple lines, use the bathroom, and go to work. So the name quick stop just seemed to fit. I didn’t care, I was getting to do coke for free, so he was more than welcome to come by anytime.

Then there another Steve, but was known as Rippie, and his wife Suzanne. They were both hairdressers but his wife was not only a better hairdresser but more well known. She was from London, and quite an interesting lady. Rippie would later show me how to cut hair and some other techniques about hair as well. I would go by the salon now and then, when I would there were always a lot of questions about Indians for me to answer. No one at the salon had ever met an Indian, and they were interested to learn more.

As time went by, I got to be better friends with most of them.

Keith also put together hair shows, where he would have models come in and have their hair cut and done by himself and other stylist. One weekend Keith approached me and asked if I had any plans for the weekend, and if I didn’t, would I be interested in making some extra money. It sounded good to me so I asked him what I would have to do. Seems Keith had another show planned but the guy he used to set the stage up, cameras and sound was not going to be able to make it. So I gladly agreed to step in and do whatever I could do to help.

Keith showed me the equipment and how to use it and even let me drive the vehicle they used to go to the show. There was a nice sounds system, cameras and tripods, and a stage to set up. When I arrived I got to meet several stylists I had only heard about and some of the models. Keith would not be there, but gave me the names of the people that were in charge, telling me that they would tell me everything I needed to know and directions to follow. It was great, to see and watch these stylist in action. One lady agreed to have her long beautiful hair cut off, at last two feet of hair and allow the stylist to do whatever she wanted to do with her hair. When that hair was cut off, you could hear the gasps first then that applause as they announced the hair would be donated to an organization that made wigs for people with cancer.

As the day went on I met more stylists, and was having a good time. At lunch I was invited to go with some of them to grab a bite to eat. They asked questions, I know they were trying to feel me out, as the questions were going towards the subject of smoking a joint before we all returned. I told them they were more than welcome to fire one up as long as they included me in on it. This turned out to be the start of an interesting road in my life.

More often on my weekends I was asked to do the shows, and was meeting a lot more stylist. I came to the quick conclusion that these people were not only fun, but big time partiers as well. Seldom did they not want to party after a show, and I was being included in as one of them, and was having a lot of fun.

I was still working with the phone company, and my life at times seemed to have two lives. I was installing phone systems during the week, all over Kansas City, in uniforms, and on the weekends I was with a complete different group of people doing hair shows. One of my good friends with the phone company was Kyle, a big guy, easy on the mind, but a good hard worker. He was never given tasks like installing a phone system, he usually ran the cables to hook up the phones instead, but I know he liked his job. I could tell he really liked his job, but I could also tell he was a stoner. He had most of the signs, and when I finally asked him about it, he told me he was a partier.

Kyle and I would hang out sometimes after work, and smoke a joint or two. I used him as my connection at times before I knew where to get my smoke. As the outsider in the office from Oklahoma, not too many people were glad to see me in Kansas City office, but Kyle didn’t care. He was a good old boy, and knew how to have fun. During the days I would work pulling cable, making good money, and watch as some of the other installers would work on phone systems. Sometimes I would have a good laugh to myself when they would be having a hard time programming. You see, I was an installer also, been to several schools to learn how to install specific systems, but from the first day I arrived in Kansas City, I was put as a cable puller. Low man on the totem pole if you will. I didn’t care; I was still making the same amount of money, with a lot less stress. This went on for several months, and we were getting behind on the installs. Our boss called a meeting one morning to discuss the issue. Seems that the corporate office has inquired about the man hours per phone system and why they had gone up, and why we were behind on installs. Bill looked over at some of the cable pullers and said, you guys might have to start learning how to program some of the smaller systems and help out with the installs to get us caught up.

I looked at Bill and responded, Bill I can install any system here, and program them as well. The other installers looked over at me as if I were just shooting from the hip.