The Island Begins to Call
Over the months that followed, I found myself returning to the notes from my August 2023 reading with Tiffany. She had described a place in Japan that seemed important to my unfolding journey. She never gave it a name. Instead, she offered impressions and encouraged me to pay attention if the opportunity to visit ever presented itself.
Curious, I began researching.
As I explored temples, islands, and sacred sites associated with the dragon and Benzaiten, one place repeatedly stood out.
Again and again, my research led me to Hogonji Temple on Chikubushima, a small island in Lake Biwa.
The more I learned, the more the pieces seemed to fit.
I discovered that Hogonji Temple had been regarded as one of Japan's great spiritual centers for centuries. The island is dedicated to Benzaiten, the goddess whose presence had quietly emerged throughout my dragon research.
Then I stumbled upon something that stopped me in my tracks.
One of Japan's oldest Noh plays tells the story of an emissary who journeys by boat to Chikubushima with an old man and a woman. After arriving on the island, the woman reveals herself to be Benzaiten, while the old man transforms into a dragon.
I remember simply sitting there for a while.
For more than a year, the dragon and Benzaiten had been weaving themselves through my own journey. Now I was reading a story, centuries old, in which those same two symbols were inseparable.
It was impossible not to wonder whether this was the place Tiffany had been sensing all along.
I couldn't know for certain.
But it felt like a compelling possibility.
As the months passed, Chikubushima slowly became more than a place on a map.
It became a destination quietly waiting in the background of my life.
The Journey to Chikubushima
Fifteen months passed.
Life continued. Chris and I planned a three-week journey through Japan, and gradually the itinerary took shape. Near the end of our trip, we arrived in Nagahama, a quiet city on the eastern shore of Lake Biwa.
The next morning we would board a boat to Chikubushima.
Standing along the lakeshore that evening, looking across the still waters toward the unseen island, I felt something unexpected.
A heaviness settled gently over my chest.
At first, I assumed it was simply the accumulated fatigue of travel. But as I stood there, I couldn't ignore the feeling.
It wasn't unpleasant.
It was simply... emotional.
I couldn't explain why.
The following morning we boarded the ferry.
As the boat crossed Lake Biwa toward Chikubushima, the feeling returned, even more strongly.
I turned to Chris.
"I'm feeling emotional," I said.
She looked at me with curiosity. This wasn't something either of us normally experienced while traveling.
Neither of us tried to explain it.
We simply let it be.
As the island slowly came into view, I found myself wondering whether I was responding to the history of the place, the journey that had brought me there, or something I couldn't yet put into words.
Whatever the reason, I knew this visit would be different from any other stop on our trip.
I had been following this thread for more than a year. What had begun as a chance encounter with a psychic medium had gradually become a pilgrimage.
As the island drew nearer, I realized I wasn't simply traveling to a place.
I was crossing a threshold.
Chikubushima
When we stepped off the ferry onto Chikubushima, I wasn't looking for signs or confirmations.
I simply wanted to experience the place that had quietly drawn me across the Pacific.
For more than a year, the dragon, Benzaiten, and this island had become increasingly intertwined in my imagination. Now I was finally here.
Chris and I spent the day exploring the island at an unhurried pace. We wandered through Hogonji Temple, visited the shrines, admired the ancient trees, and joined other visitors in tossing clay discs through the torii gate overlooking Lake Biwa.
Outwardly, it was an ordinary day of pilgrimage and sightseeing.
Inwardly, it was anything but ordinary.
From the moment we arrived, I carried a quiet emotional weight that I couldn't explain. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't overwhelming. It was simply present, as though the island was inviting me not to think more deeply, but to listen more deeply.
So I stopped trying to understand.
Instead, I let the place speak in its own language.
I found myself lingering in silence, noticing the movement of the trees, the rhythm of the water, the sounds of the temple grounds, and the simple gift of being there. Nothing extraordinary happened. Yet everything felt significant.
As the afternoon came to a close, we boarded the last ferry back to Nagahama.
As the island slowly receded into the distance, I kept turning around to look one last time. The late afternoon light settled gently across the shoreline, and I instinctively began taking photographs.
Then, almost without noticing when it happened, something within me relaxed.
The emotional heaviness I had carried since arriving in Nagahama quietly dissolved.
What remained was gratitude.
Not because I had found answers.
Not because I had received some profound revelation.
Simply because I had come.
As Chikubushima disappeared beyond the horizon, I sensed that something important had reached its completion.
I couldn't have explained what that was then.
In many ways, I'm still discovering its meaning today.
The Divine Feminine Emerges
Throughout our journey through Japan, I shared photographs and reflections with friends on Facebook.
One evening, after posting a photograph of the setting sun as we departed Chikubushima, a dear friend—and gifted channeler—left a brief comment beneath the image.
"The Divine Feminine..."
Only three words.
Yet they stayed with me.
Until that moment, I had understood my journey primarily as a rediscovery of my grandmother and her spiritual lineage. But as I reflected on the past two years, I began to see another pattern quietly emerging.
My grandmother.
Benzaiten.
The dragon.
Water.
The island.
None of these seemed separate anymore.
Instead, they felt like different expressions of a single thread weaving through the journey.
I began to wonder whether this pilgrimage had been leading me not only toward my grandmother's story, but toward a deeper appreciation of the Divine Feminine—a presence that nurtures relationship, intuition, creativity, compassion, and the quiet flow of life itself.
I wasn't reaching a conclusion.
I was simply noticing a pattern that had become difficult to ignore.
Epilogue: The Journey Continues
A few days after leaving Chikubushima, another thread quietly emerged.
Before our trip, Tiffany had mentioned that alongside the dragon, another spirit animal was beginning to accompany my journey—the sea turtle, a symbol of patience, longevity, and quiet wisdom.
At the time, I wasn't sure what to make of it.
Then I remembered the very last place we visited before leaving Chikubushima.
Tucked away on the island was a small museum. Inside, I came across a striking image of a sea turtle carrying the world upon its back.
Photography wasn't permitted.
Even so, I found myself asking the museum attendant if postcards of the image were available.
He shook his head.
Then, after a thoughtful pause, he smiled and quietly said that I could take a single photograph.
It felt like a small gift.
A gentle closing blessing to the journey.
A few days later, another surprise arrived.
A friend sent me a screenshot of that day's New York Times Mini Crossword.
Scattered throughout the completed puzzle were several words that immediately caught my attention:
Japan. Roger. As One. Rests.
Perhaps it was merely coincidence.
Perhaps not.
By then, I had learned not to rush toward conclusions.
Instead, I had begun receiving these moments as quiet invitations—to pause, to reflect, and to remain open to the possibility that life sometimes speaks through patterns we could never have planned.
Looking back, I no longer think this journey was simply about dragons.
Or even about rediscovering my grandmother.
It became a journey into lineage, belonging, and the quiet ways meaning reveals itself over time.
Whether these experiences arose through coincidence, intuition, Spirit, or some mysterious combination of all three is a question I continue to hold with humility.
What I know is this:
I returned home different than when I left.
More attentive.
More grateful.
More willing to trust that sometimes we do not find the path.
Sometimes...
the path quietly finds us.