2025 - 09 - 27 facing the gods on the edge of where reality fades into a dream

              As invigorating as my pilgrimage to Tsushima has been, alas, it is time for me to set sail for other seas. Rather, just one sea, as I am currently venturing back to Fukuoka via ferry. I wouldn't say a tear formed in my eye - that'd be far too dramatic. But a warm sincerity put its cloak around my shoulders, and a small part of me felt like I was leaving home. I stood on the deck as long as I could upon our departure, absorbing every last bit of Izuhara until its bright red lighthouse merged with the vast greenery behind it, until I could no longer see the northeast tip of the island where I stood on the rocks, facing the gods on the edge of where reality fades into a dream.

             

I've been meaning to write more about that last one, as my trip to Shinagi Island was one of the most ethereal places I've ever visited. On the surface, it could rather easily be mistaken for the trip to Tonosaki Park from my last journal, where the Battle of Tsushima is memorialised. Both ventures involve an, at best, sketchy route to get to the edge of the water that absolutely involved taking some creative liberties on where to (and if I should even) go. Both are at the utmost extremity of Tsushima, with Tonosaki being the easternmost part and Shinagi being the northeastern most part of the island. And both culminated in something of a metamorphosis as I stood on their respective last stops before the big blue took over at least to the horizon.

              However, what it meant to me was, in fact, somewhat different. Tonosaki Park was ultimately centred amongst going to the extremes of the rocky landmass to where the Russian sailors would have landed to honour all that took part in the tremendous naval battle. While it's not impossible that some sailors might washed ashore in Shinagi as well, as they're not all that far apart, they didn't to my understanding. Without such a historical context, Shinagi was much more of a journey for me.

              When I saw a path lead towards where I thought Shinagi Island should be, I parked my bike by the side of the road and ventured down it. I wanted to get to the edge of the island, just like the day before. But just like the day before, the approach to Shinagi also had its own flavours of troublesome twists and turns. There were a couple sketchy parts where I just had to charge through brush, hoping if I caught one of those dreaded, yellow-striped spiders along the way, that my speed would shake it off. Besides the spiders, little Bugs scurried every which direction on the rocks as I made my way past them (there were so many). And then, I had to come up {literally} balls-deep in the water to get through the path to the island.

              And once I got to that mini archipelago of rocks that led up to the utmost edge of Tsushima's northeastern most corner, it got as sketchy as it's gotten. A green, seafaring slime covered the flat surfaces, adding a deliberance to my steps or risk slipping onto a surface where my bones would have no chance. The further I went, the more that gave way to sharp barnacles that soon covered virtually every point on the rocks, meaning that literally the only point on my body that could touch them without getting hurt was my thick-bottomed rubber sandals. And the path outwards towards the ocean became much less linear than it was in the past, requiring mad dashes or hops through the water during a lull in the waves.

              At one point, I had to make such a lunge from one rock formation to another, involving a leap down to a stone step covered in that slippery green slime that was underwater about half the time. The waves went in a cycle of rescinding and crashing about every two seconds, with a little bit of a lag while the water cleared off the top of this connecting rock. I had to get further out, so I timed it as best as I could, and the second the water cleared, I lept.

              What I didn't accurately time for, though, was that it would take my foot a good half-second to get down there, and more time to effectively get good enough foundation to feel confident enough to risk launching up from it. To my horror, the waves came crashing in before that moment came, and in a desperate effort to prevent an absolute catastrophy from happening, I bent over forwards and rammed my hands into some of the barnacle-covered rock to my front for stability. Thankfully, I weathered the brunt of the ocean's assault, but not without cost. My hands took the most damage out of my entire body throughout the trip to Tsushima. But by the grace of the gods, they actually didn't get hit too bad.

              What piqued my curiosity the most was how the tremendous gash that formed on my right hand was square in the middle of my right palm. How aesthetically pleasing that it wasn't off on some jagged corner or otherwise asymmetrical place like most of the other scars that covered my body from doing similarly dumb things. Hopefully I wouldn’t bleed out with such a terrifyingly mighty wound.

              I only made it a bit further down the "archipelagoette," if you will, before it just got too dangerous. That last fall was a warning, I reckoned, and I had no choice but to make it back the exact same way. I felt as if I had gone as far as I was supposed to. It was damn close to the very end, anyway.

              At that point, I had made it where I needed to go, and allowed myself to be taken aback by the the vastness surrounding me. To my right, the daunting path I came from, a threat that could be put aside while I did while I doyled in the stretches of my imagination out there. Behind me, the rest of Tsushima, the island that had selflessly welcomed me in and allowed me to get to this point. To the left, the remnants of the rocks that the waves perpetually battled in an almost poetic struggle. And to the front, a view to die for. Some parts of the sky went until the ocean couldn't be discerned from it. Most had clouds Like Zeus on Olympus, I could see all the weather moving around for miles, with rain falling from the sky in a patch right next to a blurb of clouds lit up in a brilliant shade of orange by the setting sun. Two boats just-so-happened to be passing in front of them at the same time, as if the powers of good and evil were about to square off with their human-made champions.

              And right beneath my feet, the waves crashed as a constant reminder that death could be right there, at anytime. No, I didn't feel like they were going to kill me at that moment, but it served as a reminder that my mortality is frail, and to be thankful for what I've experienced so far.

              That's the biggest feeling that overtook me. Gratitude. I've read a lot about how being thankful can help improve your well-being, so I've put a particular effort towards it while I'm doing my travelling. Being on Tsushima has made that easy. And just like watching Tsushima shrink as this ship I'm currently on departing towards the mainland, being on those rocks was one of those moments I felt gratitude the strongest.

              And when I feel such a sence of gratitude, I have to thank someone or something for it. In my case, I thank the gods - whether that's the dieties that guard over Tsushima, something akin to a Christian or Jewish God, my ancestors, a sort of fourth dimentional hivemind that connects us all after we die, something I couldn't even begin concieve, or even the tongue-in-cheek relationship I have with the goddess Fortuna - who the hell knows what's up there? No matter what anybody in the world may tell you, nobody knows for sure. Literally, nobody. And frankly, the more somebody swears they know what happens after you die, the less I'm inclined to believe them. So I just thanked the gods as a whole for allowing me safe passage to where I stood, and for the marvel of nature that surrounded me in every direction. I felt powerful as I posted up on those rocks, as if the gods had deemed me worthy to watch them in all their might as they put on a display of power.

              So towards the ocean, I shouted everything I was thankful for in that moment, from everything and everyone on the island, to my friends and family that supported me, to the brightness I felt for my future. I thanked everything I could remember in that moment. Even the bad that happened to make it so I ended up there at that moment had its place. As Nine Inch Nails said, the black is really white, if you believe it. And I meant it. Whatever greatness I felt in my bones, I knew that my time had yet to come. All this other stuff I've done so far in my life has just been the appetisers. The main dishes had yet to come. And that, I'm sure of.

              But on the alter to the heavens, I felt it opportune to again ask them for that something my soul yearned for, and that was direction on where to go next. So with the blood seeping from the wound in the perfect centre of my palm, I opted to give them a sacrafice for such an ask. I toyed with how the gods must have given me such a wound for a reason, as if suggesting that some of my blood would appease them. Besides, my favourite wrestler is Penta, I reckoned I showed "cero miedo" to get out there, and one of his moves was called, "the sacrafice," so why not?

              But what were the procedures on such a sacrafice? Idk, nobody taught me how, so I did what felt right - I'd dunk my bleeding hand first on the side of the water towards Tsushima to give my thanks, and then again on the side towards the aether for the gods. For how long? Six seconds, why not. Six was a mathematically perfect number, after all.

              This task turned out to be a much greater ordeal than it might sound. These rocks underneath me were anything but easy to get a good position on for such an offering. Keep in mind that my feet were the only part of them that I could put any part of my body on due to the intense coverage of the knife-like barnacles. And with the rescinding waves, I had to wade myself partially into the water in order to find a spot where my hand would constantly be submerged for six seconds.

              The side towards Tsushima was the easy side, as the waves weren't as violent. Still, finding the right position took me a couple tries, with readjustments of my footing necessary to not skimp out. Eventually, found a spot where I could lean over without wading too much in and I got the six seconds I needed as a gesture of my gratitude. It was the least I could do for Tsushima.

              The side towards the gods proved to be much more of a challenge, as the waves had a significantly more dramatic "tide," if you will. I had to agressively plant a foot in a rock that absolutely got covered by the waves most of the time, rather similarly to the one I lunged on earlier. Thankfully, this rock had barnacles all over it, which gave it more stability. Though it was a bit daunting to get out there, I wouldn't have been able to get my next six seconds without it.

              Not keen on missing the opportunity, I managed to take a neat video of my position.

              I felt accomplished after my sacrifice, as if I had done the gods bidding. But in case there was any doubt, something insane happened. I turned around, and I swear to god, the sun poked through a hole in the clouds, as if God, himself, saw my intentions down here on the corner of Tsushima. I thought I took a picture, but I guess I was too amased, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Or doubt that it ever happened, that’s fine, too.

              I'm more of one to go "huh" when any wild coincidence happens than seriously attribute it to anything too godly. And not to be lame and bring up my own writing, but it made me think of my last short story. Nobody reads that shit anyway, so I don't feel too bad giving out the last line. A tribute to Fortuna, where the main character, heavily based on me during my last days at the unit I loved in the Army, says, "I see you [Fortuna], now see me." If nothing divine, it was at the very least a very neat moment for me in my own radical personal journey. I felt as if my efforts were fruitful, and despite still having murky at best medical coverage and nobody knowing exactly where I was at that moment, my endeavour to such a risky place beared fruits.

              I sensed a violence amongst the waves, as if it became clear that the gods said it was my time to depart. But before I did, I gave one last look around me. What a place. Something overtook me, and I shouted as loud as I could towards the ocean. When's the last time I'd done that, anyway? We don't really get the chance to do that as adults unless there's danger. I guess I've done it at PT, but it's been more than a year since I cared enough about motivating others at PT to make such a noise.

              I lept across that rock that had been at the back of my mind the whole time without issue and continued my way back up the rocks. When I got to Shinagi Island itself, though, I found a way up towards the greenery on top. There, I found a nice vantage point to reflect on everything that happened.

              As has become tradition on this trip, I opted to memorialise that leg of my trip with a haiku:

 

              Where land fades to sea

              I bleed and shout for the gods

              Where do I belong?

 

              Tsushima has been a life-changing trip for me. I'll sure miss it here.

             

 *(yes i'm aware some of these videos don't work. maybe someday i'll fix them)