As Matsuo Basho found inspiration in the writings of the Buddhist monk Saiygo, who wrote, “one must master loneliness.”
“If not for loneliness, in this mountain village, where no one comes to visit, it would be hard to live here.”
とふ人も tou hito mo 思ひ絶えたる omotaetaru 山里の yamazato no さびしさなくば sabishisa nakuba 住み憂からまし sumiukaramashi
Matsuo Basho’s take on winter’s lonliness:
Winter will wither, The world to one color, One hears the sound of wind.
When winter has withered (the leaves) And the world is one color, One hears the sound of wind.
冬枯れ や . 世は一色に . 風の音 Fuyu gare ya . yo wa hito iro isshoku ni . kaze no oto
Playing with language.
Crudo invierno (El invierno se marchitará) El mundo de un solo color Y el sonido del viento . l’hiver a fané (les feuilles) et que le monde est d’une seule couleur, on entend le bruit du vent. . Wenn der Winter verwelkt hat, und die Welt ist nur einzige Farbe, hört man das Geräusch des Windes. — Spanish, French, and German
Winter comes, but so does Spring. And Spring brings the desire to travel.
“The days and months are eternal travelers. So too are the passing years. Those who steer a boat across the sea, or drive a horse over the earth must endure the weight of years, spend every minute of their lives on the road. A great number of ancients died on the road. I myself have been tempted for a long time by the cloud-moving wind — filled with a strong desire to wander. And wander I must. Alone…”
Matsuo Basho, Introduction to Oku no Hosomichi (paraphrased)
l’hiver a fané (les feuilles) et que le monde est d’une seule couleur, on entend le bruit du vent.
Osage apples in profusion on the side of the road — a deer’s Thanksgiving . a plucked tomturkey sides and pumpkin pie — my Thanksgiving Bashō no yōna, Thanksgiving 2024
Let us set the stage with the death poem of Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536-1598), who brought order to a warring Japan:
like dew dropping down, like dew, then disappearing could that be me — maybe all that I’ve done in Osaka, a dream within a dream — Tototomi Hideyoshi 豊臣 秀頼, 1598
露と落ち 露と消えにし 我が身かな 難波のことは 夢のまた夢 tsuyu to ochi / tsuyu to kienishi / waga mi kana / naniwa no koto wa / yume no mata yume — 豊臣 秀頼, 1598
Then, Tokugawa Ieyasu 徳川 家康 (1543-1616), who brought peace for a very long time.
Happy I am To wake up again And want to sleep some more
To dream of a floating world And the sky at dawn — Tokugawa Ieyasu (1616)
嬉しやと 二度覚めて 一眠り うき世の夢は 暁の空
Ureshi ya to/ Futatabi same te/ Hito-nemuri/ Ukiyo no yume ha/ Akatsuki no sora — 徳川 家康, 1616
Then, too, we have our beloved Matsuo Basho 松尾 芭蕉, who died on the road.
sick on my journey, dreams on a withered field go wandering
旅に病んで 夢は枯野を かけ廻る tabi ni yande/ yume wa kareno wo/ kakemeguru — Matsuo Basho, Death Haiku, 1694
Or, if you like,
sick on my journey dreams lost in a barren field running, round and round
On Death
What got me thinking of death today?
Was it Shakespeare who gave the doomed King Richard II this speech?
Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth,
Let’s choose executors and talk of wills: And yet not so, for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? … — William Shakespeare, King Richard II
Was it the fact it has been too hot for late September. That last night it stormed and rained, and this morning the clouds remain?
Whatever it was, let’s leave it at that, … And live! — Bashō no yōna, Fall, 2024
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
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.
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.
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)
The Power of Dumb Could be the smartest thing … You’ve ever done — Bashō no yōna
When Matsuo Basho spoke of leaving Edo and moving south of the Sumida River to a cottage all alone, his friends said that was dumb. When he decided to make a journey on foot into Japan’s northern interior, his friends warned of bandits and thieves. When Matsuo Basho thought back about becoming a haiku poet, he was amazed at how smart he had been.
Dumb ideas can make our lives interesting. That was the point of a TEDx talk by Alex Wadelton. Now you need to ask yourself, is it dumb to watch?
[Note. This post was originally written in mid-July, two weeks after a long trip to Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana. A week after a noisy, smoke filled July Fourth Weekend.]
Spring is long over. It is the middle of July and the weatherman is bemoaning the record heat on the east and west coast of the United States. And, although I am not there, a click on the computer tells me it will be in the 90s in Tokyo and there will be a mix of clouds and sun this morning followed by mostly cloudy skies and a few showers this afternoon.
Following Basho’s five month journey into Japan’s northern interior (Oku no Hosomichi) in 1689, Basho decided to delay his return to Edo to work on the notes he recorded and the haiku that he wrote on the journey. Throughout the fall and winter Basho spent time visiting with friends. Then, in the spring of 1690, a friend, Suganuma Kyokusui 菅沼曲水, offered up a cottage on Lake Biwa for Basho to rest and recoup.
This was the Genjū-an 幻住庵, the Hut of the Phantom Resident. Alone with his thoughts, Basho composed the “Notes of Genju-an,” (Genju-an-ki, 幻住庵記). The “phantom” for whom the cottage is named for an unknown samurai who abandoned his profession for seclusion.
“Spring is over. I can tell that it hasn’t been gone for long, for Azaleas continue to bloom, wisteria droops like rope from the pine trees, and a cuckoo now and then passes by. Even the blue-jays have sing their greetings, and woodpeckers, as woodpeckers do, peck at things, though I don’t really mind. Indeed, I rather enjoy the company.
I feel my spirit drawn to China to view the scenery in Wu or Chu (ancient Chinese States of the Warring Period when Confucius lived), or as if I were standing beside the lovely Xiao-Xiang rivers, or Lake Dongting. [see below]
Southwest of here, the mountains rises behind me. The nearest houses are a good distance away. Southern breezes with their refreshing fragrances blow down from the mountain tops, and north winds, dampened by the lake, are cool. Among the mountains are Mount Hie and the tall peak of Hira. And on this side of these mountains are the pines of Karasaki veiled in mist, as well as a castle, and a view of a bridge. On the lake fishermen with their boats are hauling in fish. I hear the voice of the woodsman making his way to Mount Kasatori. Then too, are the songs of the seedling planters in the rice paddies at the foot of Kasatori. At dusk, the fireflies weave through the air, clapper rails (chicken-like marsh birds) tap out their notes – surely I do not lack for beautiful scenes. Among them, Mikamiyama, shaped like Mount Fuji, reminds me of my old house in Edo – Musashino [see below]. Mt.Tanakami [see below] sets me to counting all the ancient poets who are associated with it.” Matsuo Basho, from the Notes of Genju-an, Summer 1690
Notes. “You had to be there.” A phrase meaning Basho’s references only make sense if one had been present. It is a philosophical thing. Present impressions are best, then come memories, and by association an explanation of a place one has never to.
Lake Biwa. Japan’s largest inland lake. Basho spent much time here. He chose to be buried at the Gichū-ji Temple at Otsu, on Lake Biwa.
Hira Mountain Range, west of Lake Biwa providing a stunning snow capped view of the lake. Compare the Grand Tetons and Jackson, Wyoming.
Pine trees at Karasaki. Thousand year old pine trees, part of the Eight Views of Omi.
Xiao-Xiang. The Eight Views of Xiao-Xiang in Hunan province was a famous series of paintings from the Song dynasty. They, in turn, inspired the Eight Views of Omi, around Lake Biwa where Basho was staying. Basho is comparing Lake Dongting to Lake Biwa.
Mt. Mikamiyama, along the shores of Lake Biwa, an extinct volcano and much smaller version of Mt. Fuji.
Mushashino. This home in western Tokyo must have been Basho’s home when he first arrived in Edo before Basho-an.
Mt.Tanakami. It is known for its cypress trees. The reference is unclear. Perhaps because of Tanka 短歌, meaning a “short poem” and a genre of classical Japanese poetry.
The castle mentioned is likely Zeze Castle. The bridge Setanokara, see the image below.
P.S.
One always relies on others. Much of the information for this post, including the quote, comes from Gabi Greve, Darumapedia, Daruma Museum Japan.
After the rain, little Japanese umbrellas, everywhere, planted in my garden.
After completing his epic journey into Japan’s northern interior (1689), Matsuo Basho spent several years visiting old friends in Kyoto where he spent his youth, and in and around Lake Biwa for some solitude like his mentor Saiygo, and in Ueno, the place of his birth. This was the last period of his life.
Matsutake mushrooms, ah, clinging precariously to a tree
松茸や . 知らぬ 木の葉の . へばり付く matsutake ya . shiranu konoha no . hebaritsuku
Matsuo Basho, Fall 1691
Basho returned to Edo as winter came on. It was a melancholy time as his nephew who he would care for was ill.
Matsutake mushrooms favor pine trees. They are known for their thick, fibrous white flesh and earthy, spicy flavor and aroma. Matsu松 meaning pine. Basho’s surname Matsu 松尾, a pine tree at the base of the mountain. In Japan, the pine tree symbolizes many things including longevity, steadfastness, and renewal.
Parasol Mushrooms, in contrast, love the grass and the garden where mulch abounds. I’ve seen them as far south as Dallas, Texas on walks through the woods, and in Kansas in my yard and garden. Always, after it rains.
Bashō no yōna (the author of this blog) lost an oak tree a month ago. What remains is the mulch. Perhaps that is why, after it rains, tiny umbrella like mushrooms have peppered my lawn for over a month. The Latin name is Parasola plicatilis. Popular names include: Pleated Inky Cap, Parasol, and Little Japanese Umbrellas.
After it rains, Sprouting up all over, ooh! Little Japanese umbrellas
— Bashō no yōna, Summer 2024
Sprouting up all over, ooh! Little Japanese umbrellas
matsuo-basho-haiku 