June 29, 1689

After dreamy Matsushima, Matsuo Basho and Sora are off to Hiyoriyama, home to the lost glory of the Fujiwara clan.

But before that it is Ishinomaki. By some accounts, station 22 on the Oku no Hosomichi, Matsuo Basho’s best known travelogue, in English, The Narrow Road to the Deep North.

Journalists and historians write what they remember, poets dream.

Basho recalls that he and Sora had taken a path used only by woodcutters and hunters and had gotten lost on their way to Hiraizumi. The path was difficult and somehow they got ost. Then on a hilltop at Hiyoriyama, in the midst of colorfully blooming azaleas, they were able to see a bird’s eye view of the port city of Ishinomaki.

Sora says in his journal that they were never lost.

Basho says it was the 12th day (十二日) of the fifth lunar month, June 29 by today’s reckoning.

From Oku No Hosomichi:

石の巻

十二日、平和泉と心ざし、あねはの松緒だえの橋など聞傳て、人跡稀に雉兎蒭ぜうの往かふ道、そこともわかず、終に路ふみたがえて石の巻といふ湊に出。こがね花咲とよみて奉たる金花山海上に見わたし、数百の廻船入江につどひ、人家地をあらそひて、竃の煙立つゞけたり。思ひがけず斯る所にも来れる哉と、宿からんとすれど、更に宿かす人なし。漸まどしき小家に一夜をあかして、明れば又しらぬ道まよひ行。袖のわたり尾ぶちの牧まのゝ萱はらなどよそめにみて、遥なる堤を行。心細き長沼にそふて、戸伊摩と云所に一宿して、平泉に到る。其間廿余里ほどゝおぼゆ。

Ishinomaki

From the hilltop at Hiyoriyama, Basho saw “hundreds of ships, large and small, entering the harbor, and the smoke rising from countless homes that thronged the shore.”

Chance brought him to this village. Tired from his arduous trip, longing for a comfortable place to stay, but no one offered him any hospitality. A search produced a miserable house and an uneasy night.

Hoping never to see Ishinomaki again, Basho and Sora set off the next morning on a difficult two day journey to their destination, the small village of Hiraizumi.

Hiraizumi, 平和泉, its very name means the village of Peace and Harmony, a place of gardens and Buddhist temples centered on the idea of Peace in a Perfect World. That it was not easy to find, would call to mind the following story.

Peach Blossom Spring

Peach Blossom Spring, Tao Yuanming (陶淵明), written in 421.

It is the story of a chance discovery of an imaginary place where, for centuries, villagers have live in harmony, unaware of the outside world. In Tao Yuanming’s story, a fisherman sails on a stream in a forest of blossoming peach trees, where even the ground is covered by peach petals. At the source of the stream is a grotto. Though narrow, he can squeeze through and this passage leads to an undiscovered village.

The villagers are surprised to see an outsider, but they are friendly and kind. They set out wine and chicken for a feast and explain that their ancestors came here to escape the war and unrest during the troubles in the age of Ch’in (2nd c. BC), living in peace ever since. The fisherman stays for a week.

Leaving, he marks his route, but can never discover the village again.

The 21st Century Wanderer

Who has not dreamed of a place somewhere over the rainbow where blue birds sing, of a Brigadoon or Shangri-la, a lost Atlantis? Reality, sadly, often shows us life can be, a frightening Brave New World. And if not frightening, then mundane, until we are once again surprised.

Utopias are the dreams of novelists, philosophers and poets. And it is okay to dream.

Prospero:

Our revels now are ended.
These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air: And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.
We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

William Shakespeare, The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158