Am I a harbinger of doom?
When I move, disaster follows. Should I just stay put?
A couple of days ago an oarfish washed up on an Encinitas, California beach. It is the second time it has happened in California this year. According to Japanese mythology, it is a bad omen.
In traditional Japanese legend, oarfish were known as "ryugu no tsukai" meaning "the messenger from the sea dragon god's palace." People believed oarfish would come up from the deep to warn people when an earthquake was imminent. This myth caused a stir in 2011 when 20 oarfish washed ashore in the months before Japan was struck by the country's most powerful earthquake.
The oarfish is known as the doomsday fish. It lives in the deep sea, and is rarely seen by humans. It can grow to be 30 feet long. It looks scary, but it only eats tiny creatures that it filters through its mouth, and wouldn’t hurt a human (a flea in the sea should be careful though).
As most of you know (or may infer), I am not a deep sea fish. I try to exude an aura of mystery and depth, but I am not overly either. I am a human, and have that same proclivity to recognizing patterns in my environment that you do. But alas, I have never been to the sea dragon god’s palace.
In 2019 I got dumped by my fiancé. I was living in NYC and kinda wanted to get the fuck out of there anyway, so I did. After wandering around the country for a few months I ended up in Boulder, Colorado. It was all mountains and rainbows for a little while, but then 2020 rolled around and the pandemic hit.
I’ll be honest, I enjoyed the pandemic. Or at least the lockdown part of it. I sat by the creek behind my apartment, played my ukulele and sang songs. I made a really great podcast. I drove around in the mountains in a four wheel drive UPS truck. I knew that people were dying, and I felt guilty that I was having a good time. But what kind of harbinger of doom would I be if I was just sad all the time?
Eventually I decided to help my friend Matt in Northampton, MA with his carpentry business. He couldn’t find a skilled carpenter so he agreed to teach me carpentry in exchange for my labor. I moved there in 2021 and began my training.
During my time in Northampton, there were no apparent disasters. But for Matt, there was an ongoing one that looked a lot like me. How much I cost him in bad cuts and damaged property we will never know, but it was a lot.
Matt has always called my by my last name. When I fucked up, he threw in my first. “Jesus, Goodwin!” was a refrain I heard often.
Which led me to realize why Jesus became the savior. He was really bad at carpentry. Think about it, when do you hear about anything Jesus built? You would think the Bible would be full of stories about buildings and bridges that are still standing today. But everything he built was crap. That’s why he began preaching. Every mistake led him to deep introspection, and eventually he found the fountainhead of divinity.
At least that’s my theory.
After three years of causing Matt’s hair to turn grey, I decided to strike out on my own again. I found a wonderful woman named Lisa to share my life with, and convinced her to move to Asheville with me. I never told her I was the harbinger, but I assumed she knew.
We arrived in August of 2024, and it was lovely. Breathtaking mountain views, wonderful vegan food, friendly people. Except that guy that threw a full beer can at Lisa while we were biking. He sucks.
We bought a cute little house on a hill in Weaverville, about 20 minutes outside of Asheville. There was a cool swimming hole nearby, and neglected fruit trees to be reclaimed.
By September 26, we had heard there was a hurricane coming, but felt pretty safe in the mountains.
We woke on Saturday morning after Helene to find our power was out but our phones were still working. We called our families to tell them we were alright. A couple trees had fallen in our yard but it all seemed pretty mild. We went outside and waged war with the poison ivy on our property while waiting for the power to come back on. Then our cell phone service died. Must be some lines down.
Eventually we went down to our swimming hole. The day before it was a cute little creek, but now it was a raging river. The bridge at the end of our street had washed away, along with a neighbor’s house. The top of a car was poking out at the center of a whirlpool of water. Giant trees were washed up on shore, along with twisted I-beams from the bridge. People were standing around shaking their heads.
Lisa asked me if I was the harbinger, and I just nodded my own head and sheepishly grinned.
The weeks since then have been a strange and inspiring time. Strange to live in the wake of a disaster, but inspiring to see how resilient people and communities are. We live close to the town of Barnardsville, which has been a hub of neighbors helping neighbors. I even helped out with my carpentry skills a bit. Sorry, neighbors.
The truth is, every cloud has a silver lining. It’s only in the dark that you see the stars shining. It’s only in love that you can break your heart. It’s only after a flood that you can see cars in trees.
I am planning to stay put for a while, but if your town is in need of a shakeup don’t hesitate to invite me. I will wash up on your shores and create chaos.
I am a harbinger.