The Greek islands are dry and arid. But from Mykonos to Paris to Naxos the landscape became progressively greener. Although the islands are surrounded by the Aegean Sea, it rarely rains in Summer and Autumn.
It was in mid-October, only on Naxos, that the moths, the bees, and I came across the delicate Jasmine, whose Persian name, Yasmin, means Gift of God.
Far away, one hears the frightful call of all our war. One wonders.
The mornings were cool and crisp. The kids were back in school. The guests were mostly gone.
Not me.
On Elk Street, in front of restaurants and bars and coffe shops, past art galleries and clothing shops, couples promenaded hand in hand. Or singly, with a dog. Twice, I spotted a blind man, his white cane tapping the rough pavement, a woman on his arm.
Even a blind man, Finds the sound of Aspen leaves, Lovely as can be.
It was not peak Aspen season. (Full foliage is mid-October.) But here and there on the mountainside, the leaves were turning golden yellow and red. Just as lovely, is the sound of the leaves fluttering in the breeze. Amazing to think, an Aspen grove is one biomass.
One day we rented E-bikes and road to the tiny town of Gothic. It was silver town, played out, now the center for the Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory. A coffee shop, usually closed, a museum and gift shop, usually open, a great place to stop and chat.
Especially while it rains.
In the pouring rain, E-bikes on the road to Gothic, Then a moose — Wow!
— Bashō no yōna, October 2024
Deer and elk, we take for granted. A fox not often. A bear let’s hope not. Moose, should you be lucky enough to spot one, are pretty docile unless they’re cornered. It’s best to wait before you pedal onward.
Beginning, Sixth month, fifth day (19 July), Oku no Hosomichi, 1689
From the Three Mountains of Dewa [Mts. Haguro, Gassan and Yudono], from the shrine at Mt. Haguro, to Tsuruoka, where as guests of samurai called Nagayama Shigeyuki, Basho attended a renga, then by boat to the ocean and Sakata.
One can always argue about the hottest time of day. It is not noon, for the thermometer is just heating up. Some say, 2 – 4, when the sun is on your back, but how about 4 – 6, when you’ve been out all day.
At the hottest time of day, the sun splashes in the sea — Mogami River
暑き日を 海に入れたり 最上川
Atsuki hi wo Umi ni iretari Mogamigawa — Matsuo Basho, Sakata, late summer, Oku no Hosomichi, 1689
Note. For those trying to retrace Basho’s steps on the Oku no Hosomichi, it appears that he and Sora made their way into Dewa province on an ill-marked trail, then proceeded down the roaring Mogami River to Obanazawa. There they retraced their steps back to the Rissyakuji Temple at Yamadera.
The path of life is not always a straight. We go down the wrong road, we get lost, we turn back, eventually, we forge ahead.
On a walk or a run, Thirty minutes is nothing, — Time Flies — Bashō no yōna
Zen is many things to many people, the slowing down of time, the sensation of the world around you, what on might call ultimate reality, the absolute, disconnected from the cell phone, in tune with Nature. On a run at Pawnee Prairie Park in May. The lake is full, beside the lake the yellow Iris are in bloom. In the lake the turtles rest on logs as ducks and their ducklings swim by. And as you near the water’s edge, the frogs click before they jump into the water. Ker-plop!
From a renga collection called Edo Sangin 江戸三吟. Fugu, blowfish soup, daring but delicious.
あら何ともなや昨日は過ぎて河豚汁 ara nan tomo na ya kinō wa sugite fukuto-jiru well, nothing’s happened yesterday is gone — blowfish soup
Matsuo Bashō, Edo Sangin, Spring 1678
Spring 1678
Six years in Edo, still a penniless poet, working odd jobs, teaching haiku, relying on the largess of patrons. Taking in Noh plays in Edo’s fashionable Nihonbashi District, sitting in cafes, reciting rhymes in renga fashion.
Thirty four years old. How is he feeling?
Numb, as if he had just eaten fugu. Daring but delicious.
Or maybe he was just celebrating the fact that he had eaten blowfish soup the day before and nothing happened.
Basho haiku have been published in various anthologies, and he too has published his own anthologies. But Basho has not yet found his name for he still goes by the pen name Tosei, an unripe peach.
The French like their soup.
bien, rien ne se passé hier est parti — soupe de poisson-globe
.
Oh, mon Dieu, hier est passé, manger de la soupe de poisson-globe
Matsuo Basho, French
Fuga
If you prefer:
Thank God, Yesterday is gone, Eating Fugu soup
Tosei
Fugu. Blowfish are often grouped lowfish, pufferfish, porcupine-fish and trigger-fish. These delicacies are known for producing a neurotoxin that can numb, and even kill. I assume, but don’t know if the Japanese Lionfish is included in this group.
Japanese Proverbs:
Wanting to eat fugu, But wishing to live Another day.
.
Those who eat fugu soup are stupid, Just like those who don’t
Between Fall and Winter On a blustery day, I went for a jog In Pooh Park
Bashō no yōna, between fall and winter, 2023
‘Pooh Park’ better known as Chisholm Creek Park, home to the Great Plains Nature Center in Sedgwick County, Kansas. The volunteer at the Center explaining that the park has about one hundred acres of woods and fields, and all sorts of critters, but no bears, making it not quite ‘Pooh Perfect.’
Pooh, full name, Winnie the Pooh, is the creation of English author A. A. Milne and English illustrator E. H. Shepard. Pooh is a Matsuo Basho like bear who speaks in rhymes, while curiously seeking adventure.
FromNozarashi kikô Jokyo, year 1, Autumn, 1684, Matsuo Basho,age 41
Beating a cotton bow comforting like a lute, deep in the bamboo.
綿弓や琵琶になぐさむ竹の奥 watayumi ya biwa ni nagusamu take no oku
Matsuo Basho, Nozarashi kikô, Autumn 1684
Deep in a Bamboo Grove
By the late fall of 1684, Tokugawa Yoshimune (徳川 吉宗), the great grandson of Tokugawa Ieyasu (徳川家康), the founder of the Tokugawa shogunate , would become the eighth shōgun. Matsuo Basho lived in Edo, the capital of the shogunate, but by now he had removed himself from the city, across the river, to a little cottage in the quiet Fukagawa District.
Basho has finally taken on the nom de plume, Basho, (formerly Tosei, the unripe peach); he is a little gray around the temples, in the prime of his life, at the top of his career, embarking on the first of his travels — Nozarashi kikô, 野ざらし紀行 (Travelogue of Weather-Beaten Bones).
Basho writes:
“Entering Yamato province, at a place called ‘Amid the Bamboo Groves’ (Take no uchi) at a city called Katsuragi … Because this was my companion Chiri’s birthplace, we rested several days in a house deep within a bamboo grove.”
The 12th century poet/monk Saigyo spent three years in Yamato province. Basho visited his memorial on this trip. Basho made this trip the year after his mother’s death, and a stop included his hometown.
[The above English translation quote comes from the website of Dr. Gabi Greve, Daruma Museum, Japan. Another site in Japanese, Yamanashi, contains a discussion of the travelogue, but does not mention Chiri. In the prior entry, Basho writes of returning to Iga Ueno (his hometown) for the first time in nine years. For the peaceful bamboo grove, Basho likely had in mind the poem of the Tang dynasty poet Wang Wei.]
Basho, a Recluse
The life of a recluse often played on the mind of Matsuo Basho. The 12th century monk/poet Saigyo likely inspired Basho to leave Edo with its flashy art district, Nihonbashi, and move south, across the Sumida River, to the distant and remote Fukagawa District. There he lived alone, or sometimes taking in guests, composing, becoming Matsuo Basho. Basho because of the banana tree growing beside his cottage, weathering the storm, good for nothing but providing shade from the sun.
The symbol of bamboo is a pervasive one in Japanese, as well as Chinese, literature. Common and ordinary, bamboo could represent the people bowing to the will of the emperor. More often, bamboo represented the anonymity of being lost in a crowd. Thus, we have the story of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove. Chinese scholars, poets, and musicians of the Three Kingdom Period who retreated to a bamboo grove to be far from the watchful eye of the imperial court.
Poets of the Tang dynasty, like Wang Wei, would play upon this theme of retreat, of solace, of peace. Basho would often tell his disciples, “Learn about pines from the pine, and about bamboo from the bamboo.” This means the poet must immerse himself, of herself, in Nature to understand its mysteries, its beauty.
Notes on Translation
The retreat belonged to Kiemon Aburaya, a village headman in Katsuragi (Nara prefecture), near Mt. Yamato. The poet Saigyo is associated with this area. The haiku is likely a poem of greeting to Keimon, Basho’s host.
watayumi (the process of beating raw cotton into cotton using a bow made of bamboo) ya (exclamation) biwa (biwa, the Chinese lute) ni (in) nagusamu (comforting one’s worries) take (bamboo) no oku (deep within, the original meaning of this character 奥 referred to somewhere far removed and out of sight.)
Meigitsu 名月 — bright moon, full moon, in Autumn we call Harvest Moon. September, the acorns are falling, there is dew in the grass once again, it is cooler, and the world is experiencing its last Super Moon until 2037. Is the moon locking up the summer heat? We hope.
Zansho残暑 — the heat lingers on Summer is over its heat sent to the Harvest Moon, let’s enjoy the coolness
夏かけて名月暑き涼み哉 natsu kaketemeigetsu atsukisuzumi kana
Matsuo Basho, Autumn 1693
natsu kakete (natsu, summer; kakete, over; meaning thank God, ‘summer is over’) meigetsu (harvest moon, full moon) atsuki (heat, hot) suzumi (beat the heat, cooling off) kana (expressing hope)
Summer is Over
Zansho, 残暑. And still, the heat lingers on.
Gabi Greve, in her excellent website on all things Basho, notes that this haiku was written “on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month of 1693”. It was Matsuo Basho’s last harvest moon. Tired and not feeling well, Basho was ready for a break from teaching, visitors, and family (he had been caring for his nephew who was ill).
Note. Full moons in the Japanese lunar calendar had occurred on the 13th day. In 1684, the Japanese lunar calendar was shifted so that the new moon fell on the first day of each month, moving the full moon to the 15th day of the month. On a western calendar, this is bumped to September, Friday, September 29th, to be precise.
Extra:
Just for fun, check out Ruth Etting singing Shine on Harvest Moon
As September turns into October, one’s thoughts turn to the past.
Going home, but where is home?
Five years before Matsuo Basho set off on the journey into Japan’s Northern Interior (Oku no Hosomichi), he took a trip back to his family home (near Ueno, in Iga Province). It was time. His mother had died the year before, and he needed to pay his respect. The travelogue (Basho’s insights plus haiku) he created was given the name — Nozarashi Kiko. It was the first of four.
And what lies ahead is his past.
The first two haiku set the tone. Thoughts of his dead mother, in his mind and heart. Ten years now in Edo (Tokyo), truly what is home?
bleached bones on my mind, a piercing wind to my soul 野ざらしを心に風のしむ身哉 nozarashi o kokoro ni kaze no shimu mi kana note. nozarashi (sometimes translates to ‘bleached bones in a field,’ sometimes, to a ‘weather beaten’) o (particle meaning ‘of’) kokoro (heart, soul, core) ni (in, at) kaze (wind) no (of) shimu (blowing) mi (body) kana (!). Matsuo is thinking about his mother, now dead for one year. This thought touches both his mind and soul.
autumn, ten years gone, now I point to Edo as my hometown 秋十年却って江戸を指す故郷 aki totose kaette Edo o sasu kokyo aki (autumn) totose (ten years gone) kaette (now, instead, rather) Edo (江戸, the Japanese capital where Basho has lived for the last ten years) o (particle ‘from’, now if asked, Basho says he is from Edo) sasukokyo (point to home)
Matsuo Basho, Autumn 1684
I love to travel in Autumn. The leaves turning red and gold. The kids back in school. The summer heat is done. The cool weather makes it nice to hike. It is easier to find a room at half the price.
September, October, Pack your bags and go, Until it snows in November
Bashō no yōna, September 2023
Going Home
Matsuo Basho’s trip to Ueno to see his siblings (It is said that he had six brothers and sisters.) was only a portion of the trip. Other stops included the Grand Shrine at Ise, and Yamato Province, in the vast Ryōhaku Mountains, to walk in the footsteps of Saigyo and see the remains of his hut.
Sadly, when he began the trip he came across an abandoned child along the Fuji River. Does one who loses a mother think of oneself as such?
A Japanese cottage by a lake. A little too large to be Matsuo Basho’s.