Past Life Story

You were born a horse, in a meadow upon the plains of Hamgyeong. The first scenery you saw was the wide plain. Your mother was a fine mare, your father a strong stallion. You inherited the speed of your father and the gentleness of your mother. From birth, you were a horse meant to run. By six months, you ran for the first time. Your legs were small, but you ran. The wind cut through your mane, and your heart beat as one with the wind. From that day, running was your joy and your meaning. In your first year, you ran with the herd. The herd of horses ran together. They moved across the plain like a single being. You learned the rhythm of the herd. The way to lead, the way to follow, the way to keep pace. In your second year, a man came. He was a soldier of the army. He chose you. Of all the horses in the herd, he chose you. From that day you became his horse. The army horse. You left the herd and went to the army. The man was kind. He cared for you well. Each dawn he washed you, each evening he gave you good fodder. He spoke gently to you. "We shall run together. Wherever I run, you shall run with me." You came to know. He was your companion now. In your third year, your first battle came. The Manchu had invaded. You ran into the battlefield with the soldier upon your back. Arrows flew, swords clashed. But you did not stop. The soldier was upon your back. You had to take him to safety. You ran with all your strength, and you returned safely. In your fourth year, your name became known among the soldiers. The fastest, strongest horse. Other soldiers wanted to ride you. But the soldier said no. "This horse is my companion. We shall run together to the end." In your fifth year, the soldier and you ran the country together. From the northern frontier to the southern coast. From the eastern sea to the western sea. The soldier rode upon you and rode the country. You ran for him. You did not falter. In your seventh year, you faced your greatest crisis. In a battle, the soldier was wounded. He fell from your back. You did not run away. You stood beside him until aid came. Other horses had run, but you had not. The soldier was healed. He held you long and wept. In your tenth year, the soldier had grown old. He left the army. He took you with him. You went home with him. There you ran the meadow once more. Without his weight upon your back, free. In your fifteenth year, the soldier departed. You watched his last moments. After his death, you stayed beside his tomb. You did not leave. The soldier's family welcomed you. You stayed by the family. The soldier's son rode upon you. The relationship between you and the soldier passed to the next generation. In a spring of your twentieth year, you ran in the meadow for the last time. As fast as you had run when you were young. The wind cut through your mane. You ran free. Then suddenly you stopped. You closed your eyes and lay down. There you departed. The horse must run to live—that was your life. You always ran. Toward your companion, for a country, for freedom. Even at the moment of death, you ran. Your soul, even now upon some plain, must still be running. With the wind, free. If sometime in your life a sudden surge of free joy comes to you—that, perhaps, may be the breath of a horse running with you.