The Quake

It was nothing huge. Nothing life-threatening. Nothing scary. It just was. We just reacted. And then it was over. And we went back to our daily lives. It was only later that I was struck by the realization that we’d just experienced an earthquake.

Japan is a vulnerable little island, where “natural disasters” are a commonplace occurrence. Multiple typhoons lash the land every year, quakes rock the very foundation of the earth itself, and landslides & flooding occur as a result. And yet the majority of the natives love their home, and are quite content to live and die here.

It’s not a question of “if a disaster strikes, what will you do?” It’s a matter of “when a disaster strikes”. This attitude makes all the difference. Kids grow up with the knowledge of what safety measures to take should something hit. The government is active in both the development of earthquake-resistant structural engineering and the implementation of it in future construction projects. A sophisticated and high-speed warning system is in place in the event of an approaching tsunami. The news warns of approaching typhoons, provides coverage of disasters within minutes of their occurrence, and serves as a way to provide important information to the masses. The Japanese are vast in their preparation and networking system in the disaster arena, because they know it’s a matter of “when”.

It’s all quite different than what this Coloradoan is used to, who has lived the majority of her life in a place where disasters are the exception, usually out on the eastern plains where tornados occasionally brew. I enjoyed that security. Tragedy can and does happen anywhere, but at least I didn’t worry about my house falling down on me.

Wednesday’s quake wasn’t very big. Occurring off the eastern coast of the island with a magnitude of 6.5, it registered as a 4 here. A little tremor really, lasting perhaps 3 minutes. At first, we thought it was just a really big, fast-moving truck roaring by our residence (they always shake-up our home). Except this time, it didn’t subside. After staring at each other for 5 seconds with an “Is this what I think it is?” look on our faces, we leapt into action. TV off. Gas off. Escape route secured (front door open). Nothing close to fall on us. We watched different items around the kitchen shake a little. And then it was done. TV on. Immediate news coverage and information on the quake we’d just experienced.

Back to our typical Wednesday evening.

That’s how life is here, how life anywhere is. We live in our “invincibility bubble”- not thinking about when you may be taken out of the game. Until something shakes your bubble up. But, unless your bubble is punctured (injury, loss, etc), you quickly recover and go back to living. What else can you do? It’s better to continue than lock yourself up in an underground vault to prevent disaster. It makes sense to go on… but I think there’s another reason we react this way.

There’s something inside each of us that believes we’re invincible… even eternal. There’s the sense that it isn’t supposed to end here.

Becoming acutely aware, if just for a moment, of one’s own mortality is a sobering thing. In a way, I’m actually grateful. Such moments have the power to clear away the clutter, freeing us to see the things that truly matter and the chance to engage with those nagging questions so easy to ignore, but important to pursue.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a typical evening.