An Equestrian Japanese Lesson

Dear Family and Friends,

My Japanese lessons are not lessons in the conventional sense at all. My teacher thinks that experiencing Japanese culture, while chatting only in Japanese, is one of the best ways to learn the complex intricacies of the Japanese psyche. That, she feels, is far more important than knowing the spoken or written language well. So, the “Language of the Heart” is where our lessons take place. And that often entails a day trip.

Rumiko Sensei and I both have very busy schedules, so do not meet often. But when we do, it is always a joyous time of sharing and discovery. Yesterday, for example, she decided I should see an equestrian center. “I know you will love the horses,” she said. “And besides, it is near the sea, which is so expansive and beautiful.” I laughed and agreed, of course.

The highway to get there was built on a ridge. One side had very flat open spaces, paddies soon to be flooded and planted. The other had been completely devastated by the March 11, 2011 tsunami. Only a few scraggily old pines were still standing. But beneath them was a thick forest of new trees. They had been planted by OISCA after the devastation. It was reassuring to see they were doing well.

The first thing Rumiko Sensei and I did was to buy a cup of snacks for the horses. She told me they used to get carrots, but now it was grasses.

There were two long stables with rows of absolutely gorgeous animals. Their colors ranged from white to jet black, with many shades of grays and browns between. Each had its own stall and was patiently standing, curious when someone came close. Their noses and mouths wiggled delightfully as they ate the treat offered them.

The care given to these magnificent creatures was very impressive. They went on walks, were groomed, and fed on a regular basis. 

When we were there, one mare was having his mane trimmed. And a dentist had just attended to one of his troublesome teeth. The man was not local, but rather had come from a prefecture close to Tokyo, several hours away.

The love felt for these animals was palpable. And the horses responded with gentleness and trust. It was very reassuring and soothing to simply be in their presence.

We spent a long time looking, admiring, and asking questions. Then Rumiko Sensei and I went into the office area. There was a display about the infamous 2011 tsunami. There were pictures and explanations about what had happened at the equestrian center at that time. 

Naturally, the horses had been terrified. They broke loose and tried to escape. They went in all directions in the immediate area. Unfortunately, more than twelve died, but over thirty were found alive. They were all very agitated until given water and food. Then they gradually calmed down.

I was very touched by the number of places in Japan, and even as far as Australia, that took in some of these traumatized horses. Later, after Miyagi had stabilized, many of them were returned. Some were ones we had admired a few minutes before.

Before we left, we went to a memorial for the horses lost in the tsunami. It was a simple, very beautiful black stone with a few words carved into it. A plate of carrots and a bunch of flowers had been placed before it. 

Rumiko Sensei and I couched down and bowed our heads. “Thank you, Lovely Creatures, for having shared your life with us on earth. And may you be well wherever you are now.”

We left, both feeling very calm and refreshed. The gentle, almost Zen-like energy of the horses was a very profound, long-lasting experience indeed.

Love,

Anne