Late in October

Basho, age 46-47,

The 4th year of Genroku, 1691,
Hikone, on Lake Biwa

For me, it is late in October. I am heading east, driving alone, rushing to get home for Halloween after a trip to Bend, Oregon with my family. Returning home to Wichita, a long five-day trip through eastern Oregon, Idaho, Utah, Colorado, and western Kansas.

For Matsuo Basho, in 1691 (the 4th year of Genroku), it was late in September (or possibly the first of October). Heading east, heading home, stopping at the Meishoji Temple in Hikone, on the eastern shore of Lake Biwa. There he spoke with the head priest, Kono Riyu, in the temple garden. During Kono’s lifetime, he was known as Four Plum Trees because there were four colorful plum trees in the temple garden.

Tears of adoration —
falling leaves,
in Autumn colors
.
尊がる涙や染めて散る紅葉
Tōto garu namida ya somete chiru kōyō

The spectacular show of color in Fall is brief. By late October in Bend most of the Aspen leaves have fallen and turned brown. By the time, I am high in the mountains, returning home, the Aspen trees are stripped bare of leaves.

falling leaves in Autumn colors,
now brown on the ground,
late in October
.
the leaves now fallen,
the Aspen trees,
stand bare and naked
— Bashō no yōna, October, 2024

Kono Riku 河野李由 (Kōno Riyukari, 1662-1705), the 14th head priest of the Hikone Myosho-ji Temple. (source Japanese Wikipedia). In the summer of 1691, Kono Riyu visited Basho in Kyoto at Rakushisha, the Hut of the Fallen Persimmon, where Basho worked on the Saga Diary (嵯峨日記, Saga Nikki).

Bashō no yōna is the pen name of the author of this blog. It roughly translates as Basho Wanabe (want to be), or not quite.

On Translation

Tōto garu namida, is it — “precious tears, tears of respect or tears of adoration.” One imagines that Basho was impressed not only by the sight of the beautiful fall colors, but also quite happy in seeing a dear friend. Kono was some twenty years younger. He was reportedly a disciple of Basho’s. It is said that after Basho’s death in 1694, Kono was given one of Basho’s hats as a memento.

How We Think

Genroku 3, Autumn of 1690,
Basho’s letter, sent to Suganuma Kyokusui 曲水宛書簡, from Osaka

Autumn turns into winter, when one grows older, weaker but no wiser.

In his letter, Matsuo Basho writes: “I drag along my walking stick, regretting my pointless travel and useless walking… Each night I suffer from the cold, my fever has gradually become a chronic illness. As winter approaches, I am heading to Ise.” (Basho’s birthplace, Ueno, Iga province, is on the way. Like salmon returning to the stream where they were born, one wonders.)

looking at lightning
people not seeing
how precious
(is life)

稲妻にさとらぬ人の貴さよ
inazuma ni satoranu hito no tattosa yo

Matsuo Basho,

稲妻 . に . さとらぬ . 人 . の . 貴さ . よ

inazuma (lightning)
ni (not) satoranu (understanding), in a Buddhist sense.
hito (people)
no (of, for)
tattosa (precious), the addition of sa さ converts the adjective tatto 貴 into a noun. Tattosa meaning precious or valuable.
yo (!) implying both certainty and emphasis.

Leap of Faith

The point of Basho’s haiku is not that one can look at a flash of lightening in the night sky and conclude that life passes like that. Rather, it is that the great mass of humanity has little or no understanding of what it means to be alive.

All religion, one supposes, and Zen Buddhism in particular, involves a leap of faith, taking one thought and interpreting it in an entirely new light. An aha moment. I get it, or at least I think I do.

One sleepless night, listening to Chamath Palihapitiya on a Joe Rogan podcast (it’s almost three hours long).

Like a stone thrown in a pond, the conversation between Joe and Chamath expands. Topics include the impact of social media and artificial intelligence on how we think. Today, Chamath is best known as the Founder and CEO of Social Capital, a venture capital firm focused on health, financial service, and education, but his background includes forays in Facebook and an assortment of digital and social media ventures. Despite his success in the field of social media, he recognizes that his own children need to disconnect from digital platforms to learn how to communicate and connect with other human beings. At several points in the interview, Chamath stops to consider the impact of human inventions on psychological and physical health.

[Chamath has his own podcast with three other friends called All-In.]

“I’ll tell you what I think.”

“I am a disruptor.”

The essence of thinking is how we interpret data, as computers don’t infer, yet, that, and judgment is all that is left.

One has to listen,
Like water on rock,
Slowly we change.
.
Looking at lightening,
Blinded at first,
Slowly, the world comes into focus

— Bashō no yōna, October, 2024

稲妻 . にさとらぬ人の貴さよ
inazuma ni satoranu hito no tattosa yo

Note. Suganuma Kyokusui 曲水宛書簡, lent Basho the use of a hut on Lake Biwa. Basho called it the Hut of the Phantom Dwelling. Basho stayed there after his and Sora’s five month trip in 1689 that would become known as Oku no Hosomichi.

Basho added this haiku to his chorus on the transitory nature of life.

Soon I will die,
And the scene will disappear,
As the cicadas continue their cry

やがてしぬけしきはみえず蝉の声
yagate shinu keshiki wa miezu semi no koe

— Matsuo Basho, Autumn 1690

For what it is worth, I add Puck’s epilogue to a A Midsummer Night’s Dream, by Shakespeare.

Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream, …
— William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, 1596

Birthdays

Happy Birthday,
7th year of Kabun, 1667
Age 23-24

Gazing at the moon,
An Indian summer evening,
One feels the New Year coming.

月の鏡小春にみるや目正月
tsuki no kagami / koharu ni miru ya / me shōgatsu
Munefusa, who would one day become Matsuo Basho, Autumn 1667

An Indian summer, and autumn signals the passing year. Is that then a birthday?

Kyoto, 1667

One year since Tōdō Yoshitada, his master, died. One year since he left his home in Ueno. One year in Kyoto. One year composing poems. One year passing.

What would the New Year bring?

As the poet would later write in his introduction to Oku no Hosomichi: “The months and days travel throughout eternity. Like voyagers, the years come and go.” Basho was not yet Basho. He was still forming, still becoming, the journey just beginning.

Birthdays?

Matsuo Basho’s birthday is unknown.

In the good old days before greeting cards, balloons, and birthday cakes, Japan had one day, the same day of the year that was dedicated to the celebration of one’s birthday — New Year’s Day. Making sense because then, according to ancient beliefs, that was the day everyone got older.

So, should you wish to wish him Happy Birthday, do it on Shōgatsu (正月), the Japanese festival of the New Year.

Or perhaps, one evening in October, when the moon is full, and the weather’s warm.

For then,

When the moon is full,
you’ll see, clearly in the mirror,
you’re getting older.
— Bashō no yōna, getting older, 2024

Chrysanthemum DAy

October 9, 1694,
from Oi Nikki, the Backpack Diaries,
Near the End

The scent of chrysanthemums,
In Nara,
Ancient Buddhas
菊の香や奈良には古き仏たち
kiku no kaya . Nara ni wa . furuki hotoketachi
Matsuo Basho, October 9, 1694

[kiku no kaya (the smell of chrysanthemums) . Nara ni wa (in Nara) . furuki hotoke tachi (ancient Buddhas)]

Nara was the 8th century capital of Japan. Today it is known as the home to the Todai-ji Temple and the statue of the Great Buddha (Daibutsu-sama).

In China, as well as Japan, the chrysanthemum is a symbol of autumn, flower of the ninth moon, symbol of longevity. Chrysanthemum throne is the name given to the Imperial throne and symbol of the emperor. Chrysanthemum Day is the ninth day of the ninth moon. A chrysanthemum petal placed in a glass of wine was thought to prolong life.

Matsuo Basho was nearing his end. He died in Osaka on November of 1694.

菊の香や, original image from the Library of Congress

Jasmine

The smell of jasmine

So distinctly sweet,

To man and moth, one wonders?

Naxos, Greece

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.

Seek

Dear Kyoruku

Don’t follow me.

古人の跡をもとめず、古人の求たる所をもとめよ
Kojin no ato o motomezu, kojin no motomeshi tokoro o motomeyo
Seek not the way of the ancients, seek what they sought.
(Follow not the the footsteps of the ancients, seek what they sought.)
Matsuo Basho quoting Kūkai (空海, 774 – 835), a Japanese Buddhist

Basho, quoting Kukai (Kobo Daishi), spoke these words to his student, the samurai, Morikawa Kyoroku. The characters 古人, kojin means an ancient (great) person of the past.

Kūkai promoted the Indian philosophy of Dharma, behavior in harmony with life.

Kyoroku was skilled in the six arts of swordsmanship, horsemanship, spear throwing, calligraphy, painting, and haiku, but especially in painting. Basho considered Kouroku his master in this art. “Isn’t it admirable that there are many things to learn, but the result of that learning is only one?”

“Seek and ye shall find,” says Matthew (7:7-8), meaning God is kind, eager to give good gifts to those who believe in Christ. Basho (Kyoruku), however, is not seeking religion but the “inner self.” No John Denver, “follow me in what I do where I go what I do, …” Blaze your own trail, as Laozi suggests in the Tao de Ching.

Basho later added, “Don’t copy me, like two halves of a melon.”

Finally, Oscar Wilde’s witticism, “Be yourself because everybody else is taken.”

Kojin (Gǔrén, Chinese for the ancient wise men) no ato (and their tracks, footsteps, i.e. the Way)

求める motomeru — to seek
求たる motometeru — to be seeking
もとめず motomezu — not seek
もとめよ motomeyo — seek, said in a way you are trying to change someone’s understanding

Morikawa Kyoroku following Matsuo Basho? (sketch by Kyoroku)

Crested Butte

Five Days in Crested Butte, Colorado

It was mid-September in Crested Butte.

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.

Change

As I have said before, Confucius was not a Confucian scholar. He dabbled in Buddhism, visited Shinto shrines, but steered clear of the ritualistic thoughts of Confucius.

Nevertheless, by reverse engineering one can turn Confucius into a haiku master.

Man makes his Way Great!
Not the Way that makes the man,
— Great was Confucius!

子曰：「人能弘道，非道弘人。」
Zǐ yuē: “Rén néng hóngdào, fēi dàohóng rén.”

Confucius, The Analects, Book 15, Chapter 29

To live and not change,
is one hell of a mistake,
— Confucius makes sense

子曰：「過而不改，是謂過矣。」
Zǐ yuē: ”Guò ér bù gǎi, shì wèiguò yǐ.”

Confucius, The Analects, Book 15, Chapter 30

The first quote reminds me of the popular history question: Does the man make history or does history make the man? To which there is not one answer.

The second quote reminds me of Einstein’s often retold quote: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” There comes a time when one has to move on.

Matsuo Basho was constantly changing, composing, rewriting, revising, often moving, always thinking.

Maybe that makes him Confucian to the core.

Poet Philosopher

Matsuo Basho was not so much of a philosopher as he was a poet, an observer of life. Still, one cannot be an observer of the grand and small things of life and not slip into philosophical musings.

Take the Dao de Ching (by Laozi), for example, or the Analects of Confucius. Both Chinese in origin, but also deeply human. Basho never speaks directly of either, but it is clear he was familiar with both. From Laozi, the author of the Dao, Basho adopts a curious insight into his surroundings.

Let us look, for example, at the Introduction to his most famous book, Oku no Hosomichi, the journey into Japan’s northern interior, a five-month trip Basho took along with his neighbor Sora, as a companion.

From the Introduction:

“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。

“The months and days are eternal travelers. The years that come and go are too. Those who pass their lives afloat on boats, or face old age leading horses tightly by the bridle, their journey is their life, their journey is their home. And many are the old men who meet their end upon the road.

And I myself, moved by the wind driven clouds, am filled with a strong desire to wander.“

— Matsuo Basho, Introduction to Oku no Hosomichi, 1689

Wander, he and Sora did, on foot, by boat, on horse, through rain and shine, through fields and over mountains, to the ineffable beauty of islands of Matsushima, down the Mogami to where the sun made the ocean bright orange, a never ending journey that ended in Ogaki, near where Basho had spent his student days.

Can we say that Basho was also Confucian? Not much, I would say. Not one for rituals. Not one for learning facts. Not acquainted with the bow and arrow, or the chariot. Somewhat familiar with history, and the ancient poems (Du Fu was a favorite). No, Basho was more of an anti-Confucian. A free spirit who adapted the rules to fit his needs. A teacher, that is for certain, but not willing to instruct the ruler as Confucius sought to do. Basho’s focus was on the common man, on his relationship with the world.

In the pantheon of today’s poets where do we place Matsuo Basho. More of a Robert Frost, a Mary Oliver, less of a Ginsberg, the Beat poets (Basho did not have a beef with life) with their cutting social commentary; if a comic, then like Ray Romano, or Jerry Seinfeld. Let’s not get political. There is too much else to talk about.

A literary wanderer

All of this thinking leads me forever forward, like the words in Basho’s Introduction. Forward to modern poets with whom I am not familiar with.

To a website of Colorado State University (which my son attended, though that is not here nor there) and its English Department, and a list of modern poets, who have something to say.

To Cathy Park Hong, a Californian, a child of Korean parents, (does that matter, are we not all the same, you and I, no matter where we were born?) An excerpt (is it not Basho like?)

[Query: When one says “not Basho, or not Basho like, does one mean not like Basho, or exactly like Basho? Oh, to discern the meaning of words. Are we not like the cucumber beetle (see the image) that kills my plants, crawling towards the center, and killing what we seek?]

“all I wanted was snow
to snuff the sun blades to shadow spokes,
muffle the drum of freeways,
.
but this smart snow
erases nothing,
seeps everywhere,
.
the search engine
is inside us,
the world … our display…”

— from Engines Within the Throne

Excerpt from Engines Within the Throne by Cathy Park Hong, modified to make it haiku like. My apologies to Cathy.

One does not adhere to rigid form and meter? But is that not the message of Laozi and the Dao. Study and learn, Confucius would add.

Basho blazed new trails and so should we, if we study and learn, forever becoming.

The Dao

Whether I got it right or wrong,
At least I got it,
— On reading the Dao.
by Bashō no yōna, 2024

The Dao 道, Laozi’s 81 verses in two books, collectively called the Tao de Ching (道德經, the Way to Virtue). Of course, if one gets it, one keeps it to one’s self according to the Old Man. A wise man doesn’t speak.

This reminds me, for unknown reasons, of Frank Sinatra, a singer whose singing seemed effortless, who often sang of being right and wrong.

From More Than You Know:
(Writers: Rose/Eliscu/Youmans)

“Whether you’re right, whether you’re wrong
Girl of my heart, I’ll string along
I need you so
Much more than you’ll ever know.”

From Nevertheless
(Harry Ruby with lyrics by Bert Kalmar)

“Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m wrong
Maybe I’m weak, maybe I’m strong
But nevertheless I’m in love with you.”

Getting it right, according to the Dao is doing nothing, nothing at all, which seems strange unless doing nothing is what is required.