Last week I shared an interview I had with my fellow master yamabushi and oftentimes mentor Takeharu. I shared that the hill I grew up on, the place I hung out pretty much every day, was named Pukeatua, ‘hill of the Gods’.
Well, Curious Ordinary pointed out something I hadn’t thought about:
I love that the hill you played on as a kid translates as ‘the hill of the god.’ It’s like our path is always there for us, often much clearer than we realise, just waiting for us to actually see it.
This is completely true.
Ten years ago me never would have imagined doing what I’m doing right now. It is completely out of left field.
Ten years ago me also didn’t expect my Dad to die suddenly, me to meet Takeharu within a week of coming back to Japan from Dad’s funeral, or any of the other things I’ve gotten up to since, such as starting a daily blog, or this newsletter you are reading.
I never saw myself going down this path. I never knew my path was somehow written into the hill I literally grew up on.
At the same time, it also feels like a natural progression. Losing my father made me think about the impermanence and unpredictability of life. It made me look for more meaning, and yamabushi just so happened to fit the bill.
It also just so happened to be within reasonable driving distance.
It’s cliche, but losing my father made me think about the things I always said I’d do, but never did.
Losing my father made a friend share an episode of the Tim Ferriss Show with Brene Brown that put me on a Tim Ferriss Show bender which got me to Seth Godin, the man who inspired the daily blog, from which the newsletter came, among other things.
Weird how things work out like that.
Or maybe not.
Maybe it was written on the hills after all.