Chimaki, chee-ma-key

street scene in Japan

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.

Moderation

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

十分です

Tokiniha ichi jūbundesu.

Sometimes,

one

is enough.

August 2026

Basho’s disciple is at the lake which is perfect.

Japan tips

Japanese teahouse

Basho’s disciple who is planning a trip to Japan in November is giving himself some advice and hoping he takes it.

  1. Plan but don’t over plan Japan.
  2. Be mindful of the sounds and the smells and the shape and the color of the maple leaves in November.
  3. Be respectful.
  4. Learn enough Japanese to pass yourself off as one who is trying to be respectful. Hai, arigato…
  5. Embrace the culture.
  6. Eat fish and other strange things.
  7. Avoid the tourists.
  8. Wander.
  9. Wonder.
  10. Enjoy.

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.

Five-Seven-Five

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

Cicadas

Summer Cicadas

When the sun rises, Summer cicadas are mechanical, persistent, inescapable, until the sun sets.

Like an alarm clock,

Try as I might, I can’t stop.

— Cicadas crying

To Matsuo Bashō the voice of a cicada is quite profound.

静けさや
岩にしみ入る
蝉の声

Shizukesa ya
Iwa ni shimiiru
Semi no koe

Ah, such stillness—
The sound of a cicada
sinks into the rocks.

Only Yesterday

red and white chevy

Only yesterday. Matsuo Basho did not do much thinking back. I wonder why.

a ’57 Chevy
purple and tan, I wish it were red.
a summer’s day

School’s out, the sun is hot,
counting cows, license plates from other states,
a book served as the internet.

A loaf of bread,
bologna, cheese, mustard and a pickle
Mom made lunch for us,

Ah, the Good old days,
hearty laughter, wind and dust,
as I remember it.

[A rough draft, but you know how these things are. The road stretches out, it keeps calling. When will we ever go back. ‘Tis true tis sad. How Dao. Tis true.]

Impermanence is swift

dead cicada skin on tree

In the summer of 1690, Matsuo Basho was 56 years old, staying at the “Unreal Hut” (幻獣庵 Genju-an) beside Lake Biwa near Otsu. He had just completed his long journey that one day would day become, “Oku no Hosomichi” (Journey to the Far North).

all that I see will soon die,
but one finds no sign
in the voice of the cicada
.
やがて死ぬ けしきは見えず 蝉の声
Yagate shinu keshiki wa miezu semi no koe
Matsuo Basho, Summer of 1690

Basho added this note to the haiku, “無常迅速.”

Impermanence is swift
無常迅速
Mujōjinsoku

An English equivalent, “Here today, gone tomorrow.” Like a cicada, adopt a devil-may-care attitude, don’t worry.

This phrase often appears as 生死事大 無常迅速, (Shōshijidai Mujōjinsoku) meaning living and dying are matters of importance, impermanence is swift.

An English equivalent, “Make the most of your life.

Note. Those noisy cicadas are a bane to those who love silence, but a treat for hungry birds. Patience, dear friend, most of them are gone by the middle of July.