a Buddhist retreat
One can compose a haiku anywhere. Imagine being in a cramped plane six miles high trying to catch some shut-eye in a seat that doesn’t recline.
Higher than the clouds,
Hat down, eyes shut on a plane.
— a Buddhist retreat
May 16, 1689
Departing Edo
[Basho and Sora are about to depart on a journey into Japan’s northern interior. Basho is a little apprehensive. Is he up for the trip?
Spring was nearing its end.
On the 27th day of the third lunar month, he and Sora, his neighbor in Fukagawa, left Edo. In the Gregorian calendar, this was May 16, 1689. Basho would make notes along the way in his diary. After his death in November 1694, friends compiled the notes and published them as Oku no Hosomichi.
May 16, 1689, was a 甲子日 kinoe-ne or kasshi, the very first day in the traditional Chinese 60-day cycle of heavenly stems and earthly branches. It was used to record years, months, days, and even hours. This system of recording dates back to the Shang dynasty (1600 BCE).
Was it coincidence?
The Preface to Oku no Hosomichi
by Matsuo Basho
“Just as the months and days are wayfarers of a hundred generations, so too are the passing years. We too are travelers.
For those who drift through life aboard a boat or meet old age leading a horse by the bridle, every day is a journey, the journey itself is home. Many men in the past have died upon the road. I, too, for some time, have been beckoned by the wind — like a solitary drifting cloud — unable to shake my urge to wander.
I have already roamed the seashores.
Last autumn, as the year drew to a close, I swept away old spiderwebs from my dilapidated hut by the river. It was then that a restless spirit then took hold of me — a spirit that unsettles the heart — then as the spring mists rose, I longed to cross the Shirakawa Barrier.
Drawn by the beckoning of the road gods, I could settle to no other task.
I mended the tears in my traveling trousers, replaced the cord on my sedge hat, and—after burning dried mugwort near my legs for the journey — I found my thoughts already fixed on the moon at Matsushima.
So, I handed over my dwelling to another and moved to the home of my friend Sūpū…
[This is likely Sampū (杉山杉風, Sugiyama Sampū), a wealthy fish merchant in Edo. He had provided Basho the simple hut in Fukagawa for his personal use far from the madding crowds.]
Now this humble cottage changes hands — it becomes a home for dolls.”
[Basho lived simply, in a hut of grass, pursuing poetry, traveling occasionally. Now his hut will become a home for a family, one with children and their dolls.]
I hung eight verses on the pillar of my home.
[Basho wrote the first verse out, but the remaining seven are unknown, a gift to the new owners or a message to odl friends.]
月日は百代の過客にして行かふ年も又旅人也。舟の上に生涯をうかべ、馬の口とらえて老をむかふる物は日々旅にして旅を栖とす。古人も多く旅に死せるあり。予もいづれの年よりか片雲の風にさそはれて、漂白の思ひやまず、海濱にさすらへ、去年の秋江上の破屋に蜘の古巣をはらひてやゝ年も暮、春立る霞の空に白川の関こえんと、そゞろ神の物につきて心をくるはせ、道祖神のまねきにあひて、取もの手につかず。もゝ引の破をつゞり、笠の緒付かえて、三里に灸すゆるより、松嶋の月先心にかゝりて、住る方は人に譲り、杉風が別墅に移るに、
草の戸も住替る代ぞひなの家
面八句を庵の柱に懸置。
Source. Oku no Hosomichi – Japanese Text Initiative, University of Virginia
Shitamachi (下町) — means “low city” and refers to Tokyo’s historic downtown and working-class flatlands east of the Imperial Palace and around the Sumida River.
Here, Matsuo Basho lived, and wrote, and complained somewhat.
What’s in a name? A rose should smell as sweet, but probably not here.
Who knew
I could haiku
did you?
.
If I could haiku,
and that’s saying a lot,
could you haiku too?
— Bashō no yōna
Every story,
if good, has a little lie
to tell the whole truth.
Bashō might have understood that better than most.
Consider Bashō’s most famous frog haiku:
古池や
蛙飛びこむ
水の音
Furu ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto
The old pond lies still,
a frog jumps in — kersplash!
the sound of water.
September 2026
In my garden in the midst of three months of unbearable heat, I sit in the shade of the wisteria and watch honeybees gather on dozens of sunflower blossoms.
One tries to enjoy the moment, but finds the temptation to write a haiku overwhelming.
And eventually foolish.
.
Shadow and light
A sunflower and a bee
The breeze makes them dance
.
Dozens of blossoms
a September gathering
Sunflowers and bees
.
Bumblebees survive
six weeks of golden Summer
better be busy
.
Honeybees cluster all winter
shivering to generate heat
eating stored honey.
.
One learns Nature is not perfect, but it tries and so do I.
Chimaki 粽, three syllables, chee (like cheese) -ma -key.
making Chimaki
one hand to pinch and to tuck
— hair on her forehead
preparing rice cakes
one hand making chimaki
the other her hair
粽ゆう 片手にはさむ 額髪
Chimaki yū / katate ni hasamu / hitaigami
When Ordinary is Extraordinary
The beauty of the haiku lies in the ambiguity of the movement. The woman making chimaki must do two things with one hand. How does she hold the bamboo leaves, wrap them around the mochi, tie the string, and remove the strand of hair that has fallen in front of her eyes?
粽ゆうchimaki yū — wrapping the bamboo around glutinous rice, holding it tightly with your fingers, while using the other hand, tying it with string.
Basho’s disciple, Bashō no yōna, is going to Tokyo in November, hoping there to find such a woman tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she prepares chimaki. Chimaki (粽), the disciple is told is a leaf-wrapped rice dumpling. Picture Cynthia Erivo playing Elphaba in Wicked with long green fingers, tied with bamboo strings.
Where to Wander
Where shall I wander to find chimaki?
Yanaka perhaps with its old residential streets and more traditional atmosphere. Head north of the city center, passsing through Ueno Park. Recommended is Hachidaime Denzaemon Meshiya, a small, traditional teishoku restaurant serving ordinary Japanese set meals.
Asakusa also. Head east of Yanaka, two to three miles towards Sumida River. Mizuguchi is an old-fashioned shokudō—the sort of place with uncomplicated Japanese dishes.
What do I Look For
食堂 — shokudō, meaning “diner,” look for a sliding door, a noren, a short curtain, with Japanese characters in the panels – 食堂 plus two others. Watch the Netflix series Midnight Diner, and you’ll get a feel for a shokudō run by a Master.
Better not to look, just wander, and stumble across someplace out of the ordinary.
何事もほどほどに――「ほどほど」にすることさえも。
Nanigoto mo hodohodo ni — “hodohodo” ni suru koto sae mo.
hodohodo — not one, just enough, not too much
“Everything in moderation—even moderation itself.”
Asking Matsuo Basho, he replies:
閑さや
岩にしみ入る
蝉の声
Shizukesa ya
Iwa ni shimiiru
Semi no koe
Absolute calm, when —
one cry of the cicada
sinks into the rocks.
時には
一
十分です
Tokiniha ichi jūbundesu.
Sometimes,
one
is enough.
August 2026
Basho’s disciple is at the lake which is perfect.
Basho’s disciple who is planning a trip to Japan in November is giving himself some advice and hoping he takes it.
One Bashō-like addition:
11. Leave room for what you did not expect.
Surprise is the act of creation.
For the best moments on the Way are often the ones no guidebook could have planned for.
Friday, July 31, 2026
Walking to the corner bookstore in 100 degree weather… composing haiku.
Five-Seven-Five
Five-Seven-Five
I wish I knew why – Haiku
Makes no sense at all
Sipping hot coffee
In the middle of summer
Makes no sense at all
Ladies in bookstores
Well read, and so attractive
Often wear glasses
Forgive me if this is not PC — author’s confession
