Sauntering around Stanley Park
Ok Vancouver, I'm coming home. I'll be back in the park on the 10th of May. The boyos are waiting. If you've never gazed deep into the eyes of a heavy horse, you've never lived. We'll be meandering round Stanley Park and spinning yarns, telling tales telling the truth about Stanley Park... no not the politically correct hail to the far thinking entrepreneurs of old. No I shall tell you of greed and fighting and of politics and strange bedfellows... of cheatin and stealin and the mayhem that is the hidden legacy of the green jewel of Vancouver. We'll wander past the fallen giants of the Storms of '06 and wonder and speculate about their fate.
Ace and Smokey, Flint, Diamond, Reno and Howie, Dudley and Robbie, Pepper and Jack - Belgians, Shire, Clydesdales and Percherons - your hosts and silent guides - we'll take you deep int o the space of this moment. The best spiritual teachers of Zen that you'll ever encounter. They have no creed, no body of written work, no memorable quotes... simply their sweet breath, the deep deep wisdom that lies in their eyes, their depthless compassion and the kindliness of their enormously generous hearts. The Buddha said once that the path to enlightenment was "Chop wood, carry water." And after enlightenment "Chop wood,carry water". Each of these horses is the embodiment of that precept. Each morning they lower their heads for the collar, open willingly for the bit and lean majestically into the weight, taking each measured step with grace and dignity and utter patience.
"But it's so mean to make them work." you say. Far from it. This type of horse is a human construct. Heavy horses never existed in the wild and never could. Big slow creatures get eaten first. Only small fast ones survive to make babies. Not that the life of a wild horse is anything to write home about. The average life span of a wild horse is 8 - 9 years. He won't die of a happy and healthy old age. He will die of disease or starvation or thirst - he will die being eaten alive by some predator. This is the life in the wild. Working horses live an average of 26 - 32 years and more. If they work. If they don't, you can cut a considerable amount off that. Their joints and muscles and bones require weight bearing exercise to keep those massive bodies upright. Weighing in a 2,000 lbs or more, they must be in superb shape or they get very uncomfortable indeed. Arthritis, joint trouble, founder and lymph retention are the uncomfortable fate of heavy horses that are left in the barn or in the pasture without their proper exercise. They like doing it anyway. We have a beautifully symbiotic relationship - they know they are doing something for me that I couldn't do myself. And I do things for them that they couldn't. Come down to the barn some evening at bath time and you will see.
Besides the health benefits for the individual heavy horse, an opportunity like the one we have in Stanley Park is one small step toward the saving of a species. Most of the heavy horse breeds are on the endangered species list. Some are more rare than the Giant Panda. Yes. Domestic breeds of animal go extinct. Farmers don't want them. The family farm has become a giant conglomerate with massive machines that make the heavy horse obsolete. Logging operations rarely use them though they would and should be a most welcome alternative to clearcutting. More jobs and less impact on the environment! In fact the restoration at Stanley Park should be done by horses - all the maintenance work there should be done by horses. Can you imagine the amazing sight of horses maintaining that forest, pulling wagons loaded with brush and leaves... pulling silent mowers, hauling loads of dirt for the flower beds? It would be a peaceful and pastoral place instead of the bustling 'speed dating' style of sightseeing. Stanley Park has been invaded by massively ugly behemoths of tour buses spewing out ghastly clouds of dirty fumes and howling and hissing so loudly that you can't smell the flowers, can't see over them to the water or the trees, can't hear the birds or the wind or the waves. The roar of motorbikes is scarcely less an assault to the ears.
Yes - see the park in 5 minutes... we can zoom past the trees and the water and if we run over a squirrel or two - there are plenty more - and pedestrians? Pho... plenty of them - give em a scare! . Let's have a drag race along the straight stretches or up Pipeline Hill. Oh my gods... I have to go aaaaallllll the way around to get out? I better boot it. Huh... can't waste a minute. Don't bother me with birds and flowers and cute little furry things... I'm a busy person can't you see? Those damn horses cost me a full minute going round the traffic circle! How dare they? I got things to do, money to make, places to get to. And fast.
No. Not for me. I prefer the gentle sound of the horses hooves, the occasional cyclist swishing by, rollerbladers waving as they glide along, effortlessly passing our easy pace. You can go up the hill past Lumberman's Arch on a misty morning in September.Fingers of fog creep through the trees, twining lazily round the horses ankles as lazy leaves drift around like snowflakes in a breath of wind. The silence except for the measured step of horseshoes is the hush between heartbeats, a space between time, a moment that holds you spellbound for an instant and takes your breath away.
Come with me won't you? I will introduce you to 16 of the most powerful spiritual beings this city is blessed to have, intimately acquainted with eagles - you can hear them when you are with us, they come to the barn all the time and show off their catches or simply sail on over with a cry of greeting. Seals accompany us from time to time, swimming lazily along beside us on the shoreline. We might encounter an owl or have a Great Blue Heron swoop gracefully out of the trees to his solitary watch along the waters edge. Families of raccoons may peer at us from the underbrush or waddle across the road. In the spring we'll watch ducks and drakes tenderly escorting one another along the roadside in the ancient dance of courtship - might even encounter Hector the one and only peacock with his lady Penelope. Come with me and be enchanted.
See you at the park.
