HAIKU TECHNIQUES Jane Reichhold (As published in the Autumn, 2000 issue of Frogpond, Journal of the Haiku Society

of America.) In my early years of haiku writing, I easily accepted the prevalent credo being espoused on how to write haiku. This was, sometimes implied and occasionally expressed, as being: if the author's mind/heart was correctly aligned in the "proper" attitude, while experiencing a so-called "haiku moment", one merely had to report on the experience to have a darn-good haiku. One reason for rejoicing in the acceptance of this view, was that it by-passed the old 5-7-5 barrier crisis. This was certainly a plus for the whole 70s haiku scene as there seemed a danger of the entire movement bogging down in fights, arguments and broken friendships. Another advantage of this system of defining a haiku was that it bestowed near-religious

honor on the author of a passable haiku. No one knew exactly why a particular haiku was 'good' but it was clear from the ku that the author had experienced a moment of enlightenment (or satori for the Zen inspired). If the moment was holy and the form fit in with the group's philosophy publishing the ku, the haiku was said to be an excellent one. This happened more often if the person judging the ku was a good friend of the haiku's author. Another plus for this viewpoint was it allowed endless articles to be written for magazines on the Zen aspects of haiku writing, and even fuzzier articles of how to prepare for, find, recognize, and advertise one's haiku moments. Books were even compiled around this semireligious idea. However, many of us, recognized that "haiku moments" were very much like other flashes of inspiration which, when transported into other media, became paintings, stories, dreams or even new color schemes or recipes. And many others shared the frustration of having a

truly life-altering moment of insight and then never being able to write a decent haiku that expressed the wonder and majesty of that moment. They would ask, what was wrong with me? Was I not spiritually prepared enough? Was I too common? Too inattentive? Too word-numb? Maybe too many of my Christian beliefs kept me from the Zen nirvana of haiku? The truth is: probably all of the above can weaken one's ability to write good haiku. Ouch, that hurts. However, I felt rescued when I came across Aware a haiku primer written by hand and illustrated by Betty Drevniok, who was at the time she wrote the book (early 80s I am guessing as it has no date in it), president of the Haiku Society of Canada. Among the many great tips for writing haiku (and obtaining the questionable Zenniness of Zen) I came away with her precept: "Write [haiku] in three short lines using the principle of comparison, contrast, or association." On page 39 she used an expression I had been

missing in the discussion of haiku when she wrote: "This technique provides the pivot on which the reader's thought turns and expands." Technique! So there are tools one can use! I thought joyfully. And I practiced her methods with glee and relative (to me) success and increased enjoyment. Suddenly I could figure out by myself what was wrong with a haiku that failed to jell as I thought it should. I could ask myself if there was a comparison, a contrast or an association between the images and if this relationship was clear and understandable for the reader. Slowly, over the years, I found by reading the translations of the old Japanese masters and the haiku of my contemporaries whom I admired, that there were more factors than just these three on which one could build a haiku. However, there seemed a disinterest in others wanting to study these aspects which I call techniques. Perhaps this is because in the haiku scene there continues to be such a

reverence for the haiku moment and such a dislike for what are called "desk haiku". The definition of a desk haiku is one written from an idea or from simply playing around with words. If you don't experience an event with all your senses it is not valid haiku material. A ku from your mind was half-dead and unreal. An experienced writer could only smile at such naivet, but the label of "desk haiku" was the death-knell for a ku declared as such. This fear kept people new to the scene afraid to work with techniques or even the idea that techniques were needed when it came time to write down the elusive haiku moment. At the risk of leading anyone into the quasisin of writing dreaded desk haiku, I would like to discuss and illustrate some of the haiku writing techniques which I have recognized and used. In order to avoid my seeming to accuse others of using techniques, the ku quoted are all my own. The Technique of Comparison - In the words of Betty Drevniok: "In haiku the

SOMETHING and the SOMETHING ELSE are set down together in clearly stated images. Together they complete and fulfill each other as ONE PARTICULAR EVENT." She rather leaves the reader to understand that the idea of comparison is showing how two different things are similar or share similar aspects. a spring nap downstream cherry trees in bud What is expressed, but not said, is the thought that buds on a tree can be compared to flowers taking a nap. One could also ask to what other images could cherry buds be compared? A long list of items can form in one's mind and be substituted for the first line. Or one can turn the idea around and ask what in the spring landscape can be compared to a nap without naming things that close their eyes to sleep. By changing either of these images one can come up with one's own haiku while getting a new appreciation and awareness of

comparison. The Technique of Contrast - Now the job feels easier. All one has to do is to contrast images. long hard rain hanging in the willows tender new leaves The delight from this technique is the excitement that opposites creates. You have instant built-in interest in the most common haiku 'moment'. And yet most of the surprises of life are the contrasts, and therefore this technique is a major one for haiku. The Technique of Association - This can be thought of as "how different things relate or come together". The Zen of this technique is called "oneness" or showing how everything is part of everything else. You do not have to be a Buddhist to see this; simply being aware of what is, is illumination enough. ancestors

the wild plum blooms again If this is too hard to see because you do not equate your ancestors with plum trees, perhaps it is easier to understand with: moving into the sun the pony takes with him some mountain shadow Does it help for me to explain how this ku came to be written? I was watching some ponies grazing early in the morning on a meadow that was still partially covered with the shadow of the mountain. As the grazing pony moved slowly into the sunshine, I happened to be focused on the shadow and actually saw some of the mountain's shadow follow the pony to break off and become his shadow. It can also be thought that the pony eating the grass of the mountain becomes the mountain and vice versa. When the boundaries disappear between the things that separates them, it is truly a holy moment of insight and

it is no wonder that haiku writers are educated to latch on to these miracles and to preserve them in ku. The Technique of the Riddle - this is probably one of the very oldest poetical techniques. It has been guessed that early spiritual knowledge was secretly preserved and passed along through riddles. Because poetry, as it is today, is the commercialization of religious prayers, incantations, and knowledge, it is no surprise that riddles still form a serious part of poetry's transmission of ideas. One can ask: "what is still to be seen" on all four sides of the long gone shack The answer is: calla lilies Or another one would be: spirit bodies

waving from cacti plastic bags The 'trick' is to state the riddle in as puzzling terms as possible. What can one say that the reader cannot figure out the answer? The more intriguing the 'set-up' and the bigger surprise the answer is, the better the haiku seems to work. As in anything, you can overextend the joke and lose the reader completely. The answer has to make sense to work and it should be realistic. Here is a case against desk haiku. If one has seen plastic bags caught on cacti, it is simple and safe to come to the conclusion I did. If I had never seen such an incident, it could be it only happened in my imagination and in that scary territory one can lose a reader. So keep it true, keep it simple and keep it accurate and make it weird. Oh, the old masters favorite trick with riddles was the one of: is that a flower falling or is it a butterfly? or is that snow on the plum or blossoms and the all-time favorite am I a butterfly dreaming I am a man or a man

dreaming I am a butterfly. Again, if you wish to experiment (the ku may or may not be a keeper) you can ask yourself the question: if I saw snow on a branch, what else could it be? Or seeing a butterfly going by you ask yourself what else besides a butterfly could that be? The Technique of Sense-switching - This is another old-time favorite of the Japanese haiku masters, but one they have used very little and with a great deal of discretion. It is simply to speak of the sensory aspect of a thing and then change to another sensory organ. Usually it involves hearing something one sees or vice versa or to switch between seeing and tasting. home-grown lettuce the taste of well-water green The Technique of Narrowing Focus - This is something Buson used a lot because he, being an artist, was a very visual person. Basically

what you do is to start with a wide-angle lens on the world in the first line, switch to a normal lens for the second line and zoom in for a close-up in the end. It sounds simple, but when he did it he was very effective. Read some of Buson's work to see when and how he did this. the whole sky in a wide field of flowers one tulip The Technique of Metaphor - I can just hear those of you who have had some training in haiku, sucking in your breath in horror. There IS that ironclad rule that one does not use metaphor in haiku. Posh. Basho used it in his most famous "crow ku". What he was saying in other words (not haiku words) was that an autumn evening come down on one the way it feels when a crow lands on a bare branch. I never understood this hokku until one day I was in my tiny studio with the door open. I was standing so still I excited the resident crow's curiosity causing him to fly down

suddenly to land about two feet from my cheek on the tiny nearly bare pine branch. I felt the rush of darkness coming close, as close as an autumn evening and as close as a big black crow. The thud of his big feet hitting the bare branch caused the tiny ripple of anxiety one has when it gets dark so early in the autumn. In that moment I felt I knew what Basho had experienced. It is extremely hard to find a haiku good enough to place up against Basho's rightly famous one, so I'll pass giving you an example of my ku. But this is a valid technique and one that can bring you many lovely and interesting haiku. The Technique of Simile - Usually in English you know a simile is coming when you spot the words "as" and "like". Occasionally one will find in a haiku the use of a simile with these words still wrapped around it, but the Japanese have proved to us that this is totally unnecessary. From them we have learned that it is enough to put two images in juxtaposition (next to each other) to let the reader figure out

the "as" and "like" for him/herself. So basically the unspoken rule is that you can use simile (which the rule-sayers warn against) if you are smart enough to simply drop the "as" and "like". Besides, by doing this you give the reader some active part that makes him or her feel very smart when they discover the simile for him/herself. a long journey some cherry petals begin to fall The Technique of the Sketch or Shiki's Shasei - Though this technique is often given Shiki's term shasei (sketch from life) or shajitsu (reality) it had been in use since the beginning of poetry in the Orient. The poetic principle is "to depict as is". The reason he took it up as a 'cause' and thus, made it famous, was his own rebellion against the many other techniques used in haiku. Shiki was, by nature it seemed, against whatever was the status quo. If poets had over-used any idea or method his personal goal was to point

this out and suggest something else. (Which was followed until someone else got tired of it and suggested something new. This seems to be the way poetry styles go in and out of fashion.) Thus, Shiki hated word-plays, puns, riddles all the things you are learning here! He favored the quiet simplicity of just stating what he saw without anything else having to happen in the ku. He found the greatest beauty in the common sight, simply said. And 99% of his haiku were written in his style. And many people still feel he was right. And there are some moments which are perhaps best said as simply as it is possible. Yet, he himself realized, after writing very many in this style in 1893, that used too much, even his new idea can become boring. So the method is an answer, but never the complete answer of how to write a haiku. evening waves come into the cove one at a time The Technique of Double entendre (or

double meanings) - Anyone who has read translations of Japanese poetry has seen how much poets delighted in saying one thing and meaning something else. Only insiders knew the secret language and got the jokes. In some cases the pun was to cover up a sexual reference by seeming to speaking of something commonplace. There are whole lists of words with double meanings: spring rain = sexual emissions and jade mountain = the Mound of Venus, just to give you an sampling. But we have them in English also, and haiku can use them in the very same way. eyes in secret places deep in the purple middle of an iris The Technique of using Puns - Again we can only learn from the master punsters the Japanese. We have the very same things in English but we haiku writers may not be so well-versed as the Japanese are in using these because there have been periods of Western literary history where this skill has been

looked down upon. And even though the hai of haiku means "joke, or fun, or unusual" there are still writers whose faces freeze into a frown when encountering a pun in three lines. a sign at the fork in the road "fine dining" The Technique of Word-plays - Again, we have to admit the Japanese do this best. Their work is made easier by so many of their place names either having double meaning or many of their words being homonyms (sounding the same). Still (there is one meaning 'quiet' or 'continuation') we have so many words with multiple meaning there is no reason we cannot learn to explore our own language. A steady look at many of our cities' names could give new inspiration: Oak-land, Anchor Bay, Oxford, Cam-bridge and even our streets give us Meadowgate, First Street, and one I lived on Ten Mile Cutoff. moon set

now it's right how it fits Half Moon Bay The Technique of Verb /Noun Exchange This is a very gentle way of doing word play and getting double duty out of words. In English we have many words which function as both verbs and nouns. By constructing the poem carefully, one can utilize both aspects of such words as leaves, spots, flowers, blossoms, sprouts, greens, fall, spring, circles and hundreds more. You can use this technique to say things that are not allowed in haiku. For instance, one would not be admired for saying that the willow tree strings raindrops, but one can get away with making it sound as if the strings of willow are really the spring rain manifested in raindrops. This is one of those cases where the reader has to decide which permissible stance the ku has taken. spring rain the willow strings

raindrops The Technique of Close Linkage - Basically this could come as a sub-topic to association but it also works with contrast and comparison so I like to give it its own rubric. In making any connection between the two parts of a haiku, the leap can be a small and even a wellknown one. Usually beginners are easily impressed with close linkage and experiment first with this form. They understand it and feel comfortable using the technique. winter cold finding on a beach an open knife The Technique of Leap Linkage - Then as a writer's skills increase, and as he or she reads many haiku (either their own or others) such 'easy' leaps quickly fade in excitement. Being human animals we seem destined to seek the next level of difficulty and find that thrilling. So the writer begins to attempt leaps that a reader new to haiku may not follow and

therefore find the ku to espouse nonsense. The nice thing about this aspect, is when one begins to read haiku by a certain author, one will find some of the haiku simply leave the reader cold and untouched. Years later, returning to the same book, with many haiku experiences, the reader will discover the truth or poetry or beauty in a haiku that seemed dead and closed earlier. I think the important point in creating with this technique is that the writer is always totally aware of his or her 'truth'. Poets of the surrealistic often make leaps which simply seem impossible to follow (I am thinking of Paul Celan) where the reader simply has to go on faith that the author knew what he was writing about. This is rare in haiku. Usually, if you think about the ku long enough and deeply enough, one can find the author's truth. I know I have quickly read a link in a renga and thought the author was kidding me or had gone off the deep end. Sometimes it is days later when I will go, "Ah-ha!" and in that instant understand what

the ku was truly about. wildflowers the early spring sunshine in my hand The Technique of Mixing It Up - What I mean here is mixing up the action so the reader does not know if nature is doing the acting or if a human is doing it. As you know, haiku are praised for getting rid of authors, authors' opinions and authors' action. One way to sneak this in is to use the gerund (-ing added to a verb) combined with an action that seems sensible for both a human and for the nature/nature to do. Very often when I use a gerund in a haiku I am basically saying, "I am. . . " making an action but leaving unsaid the "I am". The Japanese language has allowed poets to use this tactic so long and so well that even their translators are barely aware of what is being done. It is a good way to combine humanity's action with nature in a way that minimizes the impact of the author but allows

an interaction between humanity and nature. end of winter covering the first row of lettuce seeds The Technique of Sabi - I almost hesitate to bring up this idea as a technique because the word sabi has gotten so many meanings over the innumerable years it has been in Japan, and now that it comes to the English language it is undergoing even new mutations. As fascinated as Westerners have become with the word, the Japanese have maintained for centuries that no one can really, truly comprehend what sabi really is and thus, they change its definition according to their moods. Bill Higginson, in The Haiku Handbook, calls sabi "(patina/loneliness) Beauty with a sense of loneliness in time, akin to, but deeper than, nostalgia." Suzuki maintains that sabi is "loneliness" or "solitude" but that it can also be "miserable", "insignificant", and "pitiable", "asymmetry" and "poverty". Donald Keene sees sabi as "an understatement hinting at

great depths". So you see, we are rather on our own with this! I have translated this as: sabi (SAH-BEE)- aged/loneliness - A quality of images used in poetry that expresses something aged or weathered with a hint of sadness because of being abandoned. A splitrail fence sagging with overgrown vines has sabi; a freshly painted picket fence does not." As a technique, one puts together images and verbs which create this desired atmosphere. Often in English this hallowed state is sought by using the word "old" and by writing of cemeteries and grandmas. These English tricks wear thin quickly. rocky spring lips taking a sip from a stone mouth or coming home flower by flower The Technique of Wabi - the twin brother to

sabi who has as many personas can be defined as "(WAH-BEE)-poverty- Beauty judged to be the result of living simply. Frayed and faded Levis have the wabi that bleached designer jeans can never achieve." Thus one can argue that the above haiku samples are really more wabi than sabi and suddenly one understands the big debate. However, I offer one more ku that I think is more wabi than sabi because it offers a scene of austere beauty and poignancy. parting fog on wind barren meadows birth of a lamb The Technique of Ygen - another of these Japanese states of poetry which is usually defined as "mystery" and "unknowable depth". Somehow ygen has avoided the controversy of the other two terms but since deciding which haiku exemplifies this quality is a judgmental decision, there is rarely consent over which ku has it and which one does not. In my glossary I am brave enough to

propound: "One could say a woman's face half-hidden behind a fan has ygen. The same face half-covered with pink goo while getting a facial, however, does not." But still haiku writers do use the atmosphere as defined by ygen to make their ku be a good haiku by forcing their readers to think and to delve into the everyday sacredness of common things. (In a letter from Jeanne Emrich, she suggests one can obtain ygen by having something disappear, or something appear suddenly out of nowhere, or by the use of night, fog, mist, empty streets, alleys, and houses. Using the sense-switching technique can create an air of mystery because of the information from the from the 'missing' sense.) Some English writers have tried to create ygen by using the word "old" which became so overused there was an outcry against the adjective. Others tried to reach this state by writing about ghosts or 'spooky' subjects which did not impress the Japanese at all. Jeanne's suggestions seem, to me, to bring the writer closer to this goal.

tied to the pier the fishy smells of empty boats The Technique of the Paradox - One of the aims of the playing with haiku is to confuse the reader just enough to attract interest. Using a paradox will engage interest and give the reader much to think about. Again, one cannot use nonsense but has to construct a true (connected to reality) paradox. It is not easy to come up with new ones or good ones, but when it happens, one should not be afraid of using it in a haiku. climbing the temple hill leg muscles tighten in our throats The Technique of The Improbable World This is very close to paradox but has a slight difference. Again, this is an old Japanese tool which is often used to make the poet sound simple and child-like. Often it demonstrates a distorted view of science one we 'know' is

not true, but always has the possibility of being true (as in quantum physics). evening wind colors of the day blown away or waiting room a patch of sunlight wears out the chairs The Technique of Humor - This is the dangerous stuff. Because one has no way of judging another person's tolerance for wisecracks, jokes, slurs, bathroom and bedroom references, one should enter the territory of humor as if it is strewn with landmines. And yet, if one is reading before a live audience nothing draws in the admiration and applause like some humorous haiku. Very often the humor of a haiku comes from the honest reactions of humankind. Choose your terms carefully, add to your situation with appropriate leaps, and may the haiku gods

smile on you. dried prune faces guests when they hear we have only a privy The Above as Below Technique. Seeming to be a religious precept, yet this technique works to make the tiny haiku a well-rounded thought. Simply said: the first line and the third line exhibit a connectedness or a completeness. Some say one should be able to read the first line and the third line to find it makes a complete thought. Sometimes one does not know in which order to place the images in a haiku. When the images in the first and third lines have the strongest relationship, the haiku usually feels 'complete'. For exercise, take any haiku and switch the lines around to see how this factor works or try reading the haiku without the second line. holding the day between my hands a clay pot

This ku is also using the riddle technique. In searching for these examples, I found so many more of my haiku which did not fit into any of these categories, which tells me there are surely many more techniques which are in use but are waiting for discovery, definition and naming. I stop here, hoping I have given you enough to pique your interest in the quest and new ways of exploring the miracles of haiku. Blessed be! Zen Poems and Haiku - A selection from a 'non-zennist' ! SOME CLASSICS Enlightenment is like the moon reected on the water. The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken. Although its light is wide and great,

Enlightenment is like the moon reected on the water. The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken. Although its light is wide and great, The moon is reected even in a puddle an inch wide. The whole moon and the entire sky Are reected in one dewdrop on the grass. Dogen Those who see worldly life as an obstacle to Dharma see no Dharma in everyday actions. They have not yet discovered that there are no everyday actions outside of Dharma. Dogen It is as though you have an eye That sees all forms But does not see itself. This is how your mind is. Its light penetrates everywhere And engulfs everything, So why does it not know

But does not see itself. This is how your mind is. Its light penetrates everywhere And engulfs everything, So why does it not know itself? Foyan Who is hearing? ! Your physical being doesn't ! hear, What is this Nor does the mind? void. Who is hearing Then what these sounds? does? Do not mistake Strive to nd any state for out. Self-realization, Put aside your but continue rational To ask yourself Intellect, even more Give up all intensely, techniques. What is it that Just get rid of hears? the notion of Bassui self.

Give up all techniques. Just get rid of the notion of self. Bassui

intensely, What is it that hears? Bassui

Few people believe their Inherent mind is Buddha. Most will not take this Hell is not punishment, seriously, it's training. And Shunryu Suzuki therefore ! are cramped. ! They are wrapped up The most important thing is in illusions, to find out cravings, what is the most Resentments important thing. , and otherShunryu Suzuki afictions, All because they love the

cravings, what is the most Resentments important thing. , and otherShunryu Suzuki afictions, All because they love the cave of ignorance. Fenyang Well versed in the Buddha way, If you want to be free, I go the nonGet to know your real Way self. Without It has no form, no abandoning appearance, my No root, no basis, no Ordinary abode, person's But is lively and affairs. buoyant. It responds with The conditioned versatile facility, and But its function cannot be located. Name-andform, Therefore when you look for it, All are

The conditioned versatile facility, and But its function cannot be located. Name-andform, Therefore when you look for it, All are owers in You become further from it; the sky. When you seek it, NamelessYou turn away from it and all the more. formless, - Linji I leave ! birth-anddeath. ! Layman P'ang (740-808) Where beauty is, then there is ugliness; where right is, also there is wrong. Knowledge

Nobly, the great priest deposits his daily stool in bleak winter elds Buson

where right is, also there is wrong. Knowledge and ignorance are interdepend ent; delusion and enlightenm ent condition each other. Since olden times it has been so. How could it be otherwise now? Wanting to get rid of one and grab the other

deposits his daily stool in bleak winter elds Buson ! ! Thoug hI think not To think about it, I do think about it And shed tears Thinki ng about it. Ryoka The monkey is reaching For the moon in the water. Until death overtakes him He'll never give up. If he'd let go the branch and Disappear in the deep pool, The whole world would shine With dazzling pureness. Hakuin

now? Wanting to get rid of one and grab the other is merely realizing a scene of stupidity. Even if you speak of the wonder of it all, how do you deal with each thing changing? -RyokanFood and clothes sustain Body and life; I advise you to learn Being as is.

tears Thinki ng about it. Ryoka n

world would shine With dazzling pureness. Hakuin Even though I'm in Kyoto, when the kookoo cries, I long for Kyoto. Issa

! ! A world of dew, and

Body and life; I advise you to learn Being as is. When it's time, I move my hermitage and go, And there's nothing To be left behind. Layman P'ang Look for Buddha outside your own mind, and Buddha becomes the devil. Dogen

A world of dew, and within every dewdr op a world of strugg le Issa

Just stop your wandering, Look penetrating ly into your inherent nature, And, concentrati ng your spiritual energy, Sit in zazen

and Buddha becomes the devil. Dogen The past is already past. Don't try to regain it. The present does not stay. Don't try to touch it. From moment to moment. The future has not come; Don't think about it Beforehand . Whatever comes to

Old pond, frog jumps in splash Basho ! ! ! How reluct antly the bee emerg es

ng your spiritual energy, Sit in zazen And break through. Bassui Cast off what has been realized. Turn back to the subject That realizes To the root bottom And resolutely Go on. Bassui Look directly! What is this?

Don't think about it Beforehand . Whatever comes to the eye, Leave it be. There are no commandm ents To be kept; There's no lth to be cleansed. With empty mind really Penetrated, the dharmas Have no life. When you can be like this,

reluct antly the bee emerg es from deep within the peony Basho Lightn ing: Heron' s cry Stabs the darkne ss Basho

Go on. Bassui Look directly! What is this? Look in this manner And you won't be fooled! Bassui

1. Experience Chan! ! It's not mysterious. Good and evil have no As I see it, it boils self nature; down to cause and Holy and unholy are effect. empty names; Outside the mind In front of the door is there is no Dharma the land of stillness So how can anybody and quiet; speak of a heaven Spring comes, grass beyond? grows by itself. 2. Experience Chan! Master Seung Sahn It's not a eld of However deep your learning. Knowledge of the Learning adds things scriptures,

Spring comes, grass beyond? grows by itself. 2. Experience Chan! Master Seung Sahn It's not a eld of However deep your learning. Knowledge of the Learning adds things scriptures, that can be researched It is no more than a and discussed. strand of hair The feel of In the vastness of impressions can't be space; communicated. However important Enlightenment is the appears only medium of Your worldly transmission. experience, 3. Experience Chan! It is but a drop of water in a deep It's not a lot of ravine. questions. Tokusan Too many questions is ! the Chan disease. The best way is just to ! observe the noise of If you have never the world. taken The answer to your The principles of the questions? teachings to heart, Ask your own heart. You have no basis 4. Experience Chan! For awakening to the It's not the teachings hidden path.

the world. taken The answer to your The principles of the questions? teachings to heart, Ask your own heart. You have no basis 4. Experience Chan! For awakening to the It's not the teachings hidden path. of disciples. Kuei-shan Ling-yu Such speakers are guests from outside the gate. The Chan which you are hankering to speak about Only talks about turtles turning into sh. 5. Experience Chan! It can't be described. When you describe it you miss the point. When you discover that your proofs are without substance You'll realize that Whether you are going or staying or sitting or words are nothing but lying down, dust. the whole world is

that your proofs are without substance You'll realize that Whether you are going or staying or sitting or words are nothing but lying down, dust. the whole world is 6. Experience Chan! your own self. It's experiencing your You must nd out own nature! whether the Going with the ow mountains, rivers, everywhere and grass, and forests always. exist in your own When you don't fake mind or exist outside it and waste time it. trying to rub and Analyze the ten polish it, thousand things, Your Original Self dissect them minutely, will always shine and when you take through brighter than this to the limit bright. you will come to the 7. Experience Chan! limitless, It's like harvesting when you search into treasures. it you come to the end But donate them to of search, others. where thinking goes You won't need them. no further and Suddenly everything distinctions vanish. will appear before When you smash the

treasures. it you come to the end But donate them to of search, others. where thinking goes You won't need them. no further and Suddenly everything distinctions vanish. will appear before When you smash the you, citadel of doubt, Altogether complete then the Buddha is and altogether done. simply yourself. Daikaku 8. Experience Chan! Become a follower ! who when accepted ! Learns how to give up ! his life and his death. Grasping this When mortals are carefully he comes to alive, they worry see clearly. about death. And then he laughs When they're full, they till he topples the worry about hunger. Cold Mountain Theirs is the Great ascetics. Uncertainty. 9. Experience Chan! But sages don't It'll require great consider the past. skepticism; And they don't worry But great skepticism about the future. blocks those detours Nor do they cling to on the road.

9. Experience Chan! But sages don't It'll require great consider the past. skepticism; And they don't worry But great skepticism about the future. blocks those detours Nor do they cling to on the road. the present. Jump off the lofty And from moment to peaks of mystery. moment they follow Turn your heaven and the Way. earth inside out. Bodhidharma 10. Experience Chan! ! Ignore that ! superstitious nonsense That makes some There are thousands claim that they've upon thousands of attained Chan. students Foolish beliefs are who have practised those of the not-yetmeditation and awakened. obtained its fruits. And they're the ones Do not doubt its who most need the possibilities because experience of Chan!of the simplicity of the method. 11. Experience Chan! There's neither If you can not nd the distance nor intimacy.truth right where you are, Observation is like a where else do you family treasure.

of the simplicity of the method. 11. Experience Chan! There's neither If you can not nd the distance nor intimacy.truth right where you are, Observation is like a where else do you family treasure. Whether with eyes, expect to nd it? ears, body, nose, or Dogen tongue ! It's hard to say which is the most amazing to use. 12. Experience Chan! There's no class distinction. The one who bows and the one who is bowed to are a Buddha unit. The yoke and its lash are tied to each other. Isn't this our rst principle... the one we should most observe? Master Xu Yun

All sentient beings are essentially Buddhas. As with water and ice, there is no ice without water; apart from sentient beings, there are no Buddhas. Not knowing how close the truth is, we seek it far away --what a pity! Hakuin Ekaku Zenji NOT-SO CLASSICAL Not believin g in anything I just sit, listening to my breathin g After thirty years

One step A hun dre d cric kets Jum p Jerr

Adding father's name to the family tombst one with room for my own.

breathin g After thirty years It still goes in and out. Albert Coelho When you hear your inner voice, forget it. Hyoen Sahn

cric kets Jum p Jerr yA Lev y

one with room for my own. Nichol as Virgilio

in one gust the last leaf decides: gone Robert Henry Poulin

! rst on a track night spider webs catch my face Yao Feng (Tasmania) trou bled nigh t no resti ng plac

Brown mimosa seed where blossoms once invited

Look! The beggar' s shoutin g ngers

Brown mimosa seed where blossoms once invited hummingbirds to feed. Ethel Freeman

t no resti ng plac e for my thou ghts Phil Ada ms

beggar' s shoutin g ngers nd no listener' s eye. Owen Burkha rt

loud window thud in my cupped hand the little bird dies Yao Feng (Tasman ia)

Empty morning streets Cold path to the castle Castle colder still pierre42@aol.c om

bang! robin feathers stuck to the frosty window -- just the cat's tail moves rhahn@u.washington.edu ! ! SOME OF MY OWN ZENNISH ATTEMPTS ! The cry of a child The cry of an ambulance The cry of a newborn. A dinner with friends Love, I am so tiny The Univer se so endless All my creatio n School yard with

A crosslegged monk Silent awareness A battle for peace. ! ! Yellow young spring

a newborn. ! Yellow young spring Sky full of hope Future won't come. Frenzy of insects Heat of our star The past has dissolved. Red humid forest Light rays in fog Shattering silence. Black naked trees White topping of snow A dinner with friends Love, laughter and trust Dukkha disguised. ! Grasping attachmen t, Insisting on trouble: My life as a fool. Grasping a Path, Insisting on my view: My life as a fool. Grasping,

n School yard with childre n Shamel ess screami ng and fun When did I loose that? ! ! Thunde ring silence Colorfu l darknes s Wantin g to be

Black naked trees White topping of snow A perfect year gone. Buddha is dead Not even born; Light without darkness. ! Wit h met ta to act Wit h wis do m to be

on my view: My life as a fool. Grasping, Insisting: Fool.

Colorfu l darknes s Wantin g to be free

Dust from the mirror Cleansed with much care Gone is the mirror.

All is so many All is but One None. !

Nowhe re is here Never is now

h wis do m to be The stru ggl e to end .

All is but One None. !

Nowhe re is here Never is now End of the tunnel No tunnel No me.

Who am I? Am I? Am? . !

! A tree in the wind The wind in a tree All in me.

Zen Haiku Haiku is one of the most popular and highly

regarded forms of Japanese poetry. Although the form of haiku evolved over time, in it's current form it is composed of a 17-syllable verse, broken into units of 5, 7, and 5 syllables. Most haiku describe a single image or moment, often from nature. Haiku traditionally contain a kigo, or season word, that indicates which season the haiku is set in. So for example, a blooming ower or cherry blossom would indicate Spring, snow or ice Winter, buzzing mosquitos Summer, or brown leaves Fall. In general, haiku does not use metaphor or simile. A frog is a frog, and a bird is a bird. But there are exceptions, especially among modern haiku poets. Because of the strict form, haiku can be difcult to translate. Translators must choose whether to stay true to the syllabic structure or the image and meaning of the poem. (The translations I've chosen below do the latter.)

While all haiku are not Zen, several prominent haiku poets, particularly Matsuo Basho (1644 - 1694) and Kobayashi Issa (1763 - 1828), were Zen trained. Their haiku, and others of the Edo period of Japan, often centered on Buddhist themes, and under their inuence this increasingly became true of haiku in general. One of these Buddhist themes is transience or impermanence (annica), one of Buddhism's three marks of existence, as in these two examples: Clouds appear and bring to men a chance to rest from looking at the moon. Basho A giant rey: that way, this way, that way, this -

and it passes by. Issa Another theme is stillness or silence, and especially stillness within activity or movement, as in these haiku: On a rock in the rapids sits a fallen camellia. Miura Yuzuru Deep within the stream the huge sh lie motionless facing the current. J.W. Hackett A particularly Zen theme is that of sudden awakening, of which there are two types often referred to in Zen literature - satori and kensho. Satori is typically associated with years of practice, occurring after many smaller

kenshos, or moments of awakening or epiphany. Kensho moments are often represented by a surprise or sudden movement within the haiku, as in this famous example: Old pond, frog jumps in - splash. Basho Kensho is also sometimes evoked through an explicit reference to becoming 'awake', as in this example: A pattering of rain on the new eaves brings me awake. Koji Zen and the Art of Haiku Ken Jones

What is it about haiku that imparts that mysterious little whiff of insight, so difcult to describe and yet so strangely satisfying? I would like to offer some pointers from my experience as a long term Zen Buddhist for whom the Way of haiku has become a valued part of my practice. Characteristically we endeavour to secure and console our fragile self-identity by processing, shaping and colouring the raw experience of existence. Even - or especially - in the face of discouraging external circumstances, our minds strive to maximise the 'feel good' factor both emotionally and intellectually, helped and amplied by a social culture which includes plenty of imaginative literature. The worst of this offers merely escape from who we really are; the best offers a sometimes magnicent creative and cathartic treatment of our existential evasion. However, as imaginative literature, it remains ultimately

subjective in the sense used by R. H. Blyth as "the state of mind in which a man looks at the outside world, or at himself, as he would like it to be"' The example he quotes from Byron would be hard to beat: And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave. (1) For Buddhism our root unease originates in the countless and subtle ways in which we try to evade, by action, thought and emotion, the totally open experience of just how it is and how we are. Trying to make it otherwise has been described as a life-long lawsuit against reality, which we can never win. Spirituality itself, even Zen Buddhism, may be expropriated by the needy ego as the ultimate

evasion. Here is a beautiful warning from the eighteenth century Zen Master Hakuin: At the north window, icy draughts whistle through the cracks, At the south pond, wild geese huddle in snowy reeds. Above, the mountain moon is pinched thin with cold, Freezing clouds threaten to plunge from the sky. Buddhas might descend to this world by the thousands, They couldn't add or subtract one thing. (2) Ultimately the only effective remedy is, in Blake's words, to learn to "cleanse the doors of perception" and let reality ood in. As all the spiritual traditions afrm, this brings a sense of joy and release and an ability to live more fully and freely in the world - and in the

moment. Zen is a school of Buddhism concerned with the cultivation of a profound down-to-earth awareness of this 'suchness', unmediated by doctrine or other concepts. Haiku are the most thoroughgoing expression of literary Zen. They are also one of the several meditative 'Ways' (like calligraphy and the minimal ink paintings, zenga and haiga) whose form both gives expression to insight and helps to deepen it. The 'haiku moment' is thus no less than a tiny ash of an ultimate reality which in fact is just what is under our noses. Haiku which most clearly embody 'suchness' as the ground of our being I shall, in the Blyth tradition, call 'Zen haiku' and it is with these that I am particularly concerned. Exceptionally they may be quite didactic, like this from George Swede (which sums up the argument so far): After the search for meaning bills in the mail

Empty of Self-Need It follows that haiku must spring from a mind open and unobstructed by any urge to make something of the reality that has come to the poet's attention. Those who go searching after haiku will nd them shy and few and far between. Look for them and you will not nd them.. Don't look for them, and they are not to be found. Of subjective meddling the 13th century Zen Master Dogen observed, "When the self withdraws the ten thousand things advance; when the self advances, the ten thousand things withdraw". And Basho advised: "When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breadth separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy." (3) Just washed how chill

the white leeks! In Zen parlance there is no need to "put legs on the snake" - not even poetic metaphysical ones, as does Nicholas Virgilio: Lily: out of the water out of itself Similarly, Bruce Ross identies a "tendency in the fourth generation of American haiku writers of the late seventies, eighties and early nineties unfortunately to frequently offer catchy moments of sensibility that often rely on obvious metaphoric gures. These American poets desire to create 'haiku moments'. But a subjective ego, call it sentiment or call it imagination, intrudes upon their perception of the object".(4) Typical is the poem by Steve Saneld quoted later in this paper in another context. 'How it is' doesn't come with meanings and explanations attached to give us the illusion of

a more secure grip on it. Nor does it come tricked out with distracting embellishments. Allusive brevity is one invariable characteristic of the haiku form. We have an itch to add in order - as we fondly suppose - to clarify. Too much verbiage mufes the spark: the shorter the poem the more space for the reader. The insight of the haiku moment is fresh, newminted perception, though it may be so ordinarily expressed as to risk failing the "So What?" test unless the reader's reception is similarly attuned, as with Shiki: A single butterfly fluttering and drifting in the wind If haiku were no more than a reection of how it is ("so what?") they would not engage our attention as they do. But they express how it is as experienced by a human being. Thus, in Martin Lucas's words, they are "open

metaphors" for our human condition and resonate with that condition. They offer a glancing opportunity, without the poetic prompting of another, to accept for ourselves how it is. Such pure acceptance has qualities of compassion, release, quiet joy, subtle humour. It is well known to the mystics, like Julian of Norwich: "All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well". However, as T S Eliot observed: For most of us, there is only the unattended Moment, the moment in and out of time, The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight. (5) Haiku moments offer a little bit of existential therapy shared between writer and reader, a little bit of mutual compassion. For of all literary forms haiku are, in the current telltale slang, the least 'in your face'; they have the

least 'attitude'. Indeed, they may leave us momentarily suspended in an emptiness which nevertheless feels authentic and moving, as with Shiki: The long night a light passes along the shoji (screen) At the other extreme the reader may just occasionally be prodded with a question, as in this example from Basho: In the dense mist what is being shouted between hill and boat? The sense of metaphor may be particularly strong when the poet has his own feelings in mind.. In this example, old age is deeply felt by Shiseki. He acknowledges the self-pity that comes with it, but he does not massage this feeling with any expressions of consolation: My old thighs how thin

by firelight However, these 'open metaphors' retain their power only so long as readers leave them open and do not hasten to ll them with their own meanings. R. H. Blyth warns: "Where Basho is at his greatest is where he seems most insignicant, the neck of a rey, hailstones in the sun, the chirp of an insect ... these are full of meaning, interest, value, that is, poetry, but not as symbols of the Innite, not as types of Eternity, but in themselves. Their meaning is just as direct, as clear, as unmistakable, as complete and perfect, as devoid of reference to other things, as dipping the hand suddenly into boiling water." (6) Traditionally, haiku poets have taken nature as their subject matter, as being more contemplatively accessible. Presumably human goings-on were assumed to be more likely to excite the poet's impulse to comment. But this is not necessarily so, as Jim Norton

demonstrates below. Zen is commonplace: the ordinary is extraordinary when we are jolted out of our habitual selves; there is no need to hype it up. So it is with Jim Norton in a Dublin tenement: What blue! Coughing through my dirty lace curtain and the stranger upstairs April night coughs, too But when nature turns dramatic only the best haiku poets can both express the drama and retain the haiku spirit without tipping over into subjective melodrama. In such highly tuned haiku the translator also will be put to the test. Here are two examples from Basho, translated by Lucien Stryk, (7) with all the dramatic down-to-earth energy of Zen: Mogami river, yanking Shrieking plovers the burning sky calling darkness

into the sea around Hoshizaki Cape Varieties of Awareness Undistorted by self-need, reality displays characteristics of transience and insubstantiality which, deeply experienced (as at moments of lifetime crisis) may feel very threatening. Meditation enables a gradually prepared opening to them and joyful release from the lifetime effort of denying them at a deep existential level. When "how it is" ('suchness', sono-mama) is 'empty' of the weight of self-need we feel a sense of release, of lightness of spirit. This is the karumi experienced in miniature in haiku, many of which give little intimations of this 'emptiness'. In some instances it may move us very deeply: yugen - profound awareness to which we cannot put words. In Japanese culture certain mood responses, of elusive and overlapping meaning, have been identied.

Unless appreciated in the spiritual context of Zen these easily become no more than haiku conventions or 'values', or Japanese mannerisms. "Willow pattern haiku", haiku `a la Japonaise, may result. Thus Bruce Ross refers to "the stylistically self-conscious underscoring of Zen-like experiences" to be found in many contemporary American haiku poets. (8) Sabi is an acceptance of the 'emptiness', insubstantiality and vulnerability of phenomena (including oneself). But it is an acceptance coloured with a gentle, compassionate sadness, a delicate frisson, and not of stoic indifference. In Brian Tasker's words, "Sabi is a kind of pure and sublime melancholy and detached emotion which is not received in a self-centred way but simply honoured for what it is - a symptom of the human condition ... Sabi is the existential aloneness that can only be resolved by

acknowledging its inevitability coupled with the joy and gratitude that can arise from its acceptance." (9) Consider the following haunting example from Basho (loneliness, deserted, aged, wild): The loneliness of this deserted mountain the aged farmer digging wild potatoes On more supercial view sabi can refer to anything that is old, worn, tranquil, mellow and dignied. Like the other haiku 'moods', in the absence of real insight it can all too easily lend itself to tired and well worn 'oriental' haiku. Wabi essentially denotes respect for the ordinary, the commonplace as opposed to the sensational. Simplicity, restraint, austerity are related meanings, with "rustic solitude" as a rather more mannered expression. Here is a nice contemporary example from Gary

Hotham: coffee in a papercup --a long way from home When the self withdraws its conrming sharpness and specicity of perception it leaves space for a more subtle, subdued, low key beauty to manifest. This is shibui, as in the following from Martin Lucas (silent, white, empty): First darkness of dusk silently a white owl flies in the empty lane Aware is the mood of transience, dened by Makoto Ueda as "sadness or melancholy arising from a deep, empathetic appreciation of the ephemeral beauty manifested in nature, human life, or a work of art".(10) It commonly translates as a nostalgic sadness connected with autumn, as with Marlene Mountain: Faded flowers on the bed sheet

autumn night Finally, another noteworthy haiku mood is surely that of understated humour, sometimes black or tinged with irony. It typically arises when one of our cherished delusions impacts with reality in the one haiku. Alexis Rotella has many delightful examples: Undressed today's role dangles from a metal hanger The Zen of the Cutting Line The majority of haiku achieve their main effect through a device called "the cutting line" or "eye opener". Some Zen preliminaries may help us to understand more profoundly how this device works. In order to free their students from the conventional self-assuring perceptual patterns, Zen teachers commonly resort to mutually contradictory words and phrases: iron women give birth; the sun rises at midnight, or, in this verse by the 15th c.

Master Ikkyu: Hearing a crow with no mouth cry in the darkness of the night I feel a longing for my father before he was born. (11) So characteristic of all spirituality, paradox is only bafing, only paradoxical, to a mind unable to step out of a logically structured world of this dening that. In all spiritual traditions, what is is the same as what is not; one thing is all things and all things are one thing: The infinitely small is as large as the infinitely great when boundaries and distinctions are forgotten; The infinitely large is as small as the infinitely minute when its outlines are not seen

by any eye. (12) There is all the solidity of the world of form in "a wooden hen sits on a cofn warming an egg" (Hakuin again). But it is empty of 'sense' - 'pure nonsense' - in that the self cannot conrm the self by making any sense of it. In Buddhist terminology, form is in fact 'empty' of the order, solidity and permanence we need to attribute to it. But, paradoxically, it is also more real and factitious than the many ways in which we dress it up to escape its sharp edges. Ikkyu explains: A well nobody dug filled with no water ripples and a shapeless, weightless man drinks (13)

In Buddhist terminology, the power of Zen

haiku lies in their embodiment of form-andemptiness. The best of them come to us out of the moment in an insight so right, yet so beyond our ordinary habitual perception, as to dumbfound us. We nd ourselves saying more than we mean and more than we know. Two lines set the scene and a third, cutting line throws them out of gear by switching attention to a different perception, sparking across the gap between the phrases and momentarily illuminating the whole poem in a fresh light. Our customary - and solidied perceptual associations are fractured. Self momentarily loses its foothold. Seless space (emptiness) opens for an instant of naked clarity. We have been caught off balance. Trying to gure it out is like guring out a joke: we miss the point. Occasionally the cutting line is wholly contradictory. Thus Sodo (1641-1715) says: In my hut this spring

there is nothing there is everything (14) However, haiku are usually more subtle, insinuating - and accessible - in their nonesense, as in this from Yamei: In one shrill cry the pheasant has swallowed the broad field (14) It would be possible (though probably not very useful) to attempt a classication of different uses of the cutting line. There is, for example, the double cutting line, where the second line magicks the third into being as a throwback illumination of the rst. R. H. Blyth (in a different connection) quotes Kikaku: The beggar wears Heaven and Earth as his summer clothes (14) The cutting line provides a ready, specic device in haiku making and lends itself to the

cleverness of what I call 'artful haiku' which lie at the opposite end of a continuum from 'insightful haiku'. This doesn't make them 'better' or 'worse', even as a genre, let alone individually. Most haijin probably write and enjoy both. Good 'artful haiku' can be quite clever at tweaking our fancy - and a bit more as in this one by Steve Saneld: Sleep on the couch she says cutting his fantasies in two Altogether different is the distinction I would like to make between 'broad' and 'narrow' ends of the spectrum of insightful haiku. The broader profoundly illuminate our whole human condition, and are what I have specically in mind as 'Zen haiku'; the narrower do so in a more limited and specic way. However the use of the words broad and narrow is not intended to refer to the quality of the haiku. Zen haiku are not necessarily good

haiku. Here are two examples, broad (about the shortness.., and yet... of life) and narrow (about the tedium of matrimony), from Buson and Issa respectively: In a short life Those two tired dolls an hour of leisure in the corner there - ah yes, this autumn evening they are man and wife Note that although Issa's is the narrow one it is more than merely 'artful'. The man and wife are dolls: the metaphor is open ... Finally, there is a Zen perspective on the optimum conditions for the making of haiku. Two conditions seem to be needful. First there is the priming and internalising of the form getting into haiku mood and haiku mode. Hearing or reading haiku, and particularly sharing in a group, are valuable in this respect. For presumed contemplatives, haijin have

usually been a sociable lot. Secondly, and more important, is opening to a contemplative state of mind. My own experience of solitary meditation retreats of a week or more may be of interest here. The meditation I use is that of 'bare awareness' (shikantaza), in which the mind is a mirror, not a lens. Whatever comes up is simply observed, without mental comment, and dissolves like a bubble. After some practice the mind becomes still for quite long periods. This transparency carries over from the meditation periods. Primed with 'dry' haiku (through reading) it translates into haiku 'readiness'. I am far from being either a gifted meditator or haiku poet, and it is usually not until the second or third day that haiku begin to ow freely. For company an empty chair Bruce Ross has argued that the writing of "the

fourth generation of American and Canadian haiku poets ... attests to the presiding importance of Japanese haiku values to the haiku form as a whole."(15) Some awareness of the Zen Buddhist tradition underlying those values can be helpful. This is not a matter of taking on board some oriental philosophy or modelling classic Zen haiku; quite the contrary. Zen would condemn that, again, as "adding legs to a snake". It is rather a deepening of contemplative sensibility that is at the heart of the matter ... The Wisdom of the Zen Haiku Masters July 15th, 2008 | inspiration | Posted by tejvan -

Haiku is a particular type of poem. A traditional Haiku is 3 phrases with 17 syllables; Haiku became popular in Japan, during the seventeenth century, and has recently caught the imagination of the Western World. Haiku gives the poet a unique challenge to express themselves with the minimum of language. There are different aspects of the Haiku which can be particularly instructive. Paradox The Haiku masters delight in the paradox,

mixing the mundane with the ethereal; the beautiful with the ugly. In part this reects the quirky sense of humour the poets enjoyed. This Rooster Struts along! as though he had something to do. - Anonymous But, there is also the deliberate effect of mixing sublime truths in the most ordinary of everyday objects. If a Zen master was to gain enlightenment, it was just as likely to be sweeping the oor as it was meditating in a Himalayan cave. The paradox is a reminder to see the extraordinary in the ordinary the innite in a grain of sand. Where there are people there are ies, and also there are Buddhas - Issa

Read Between The Lines. A Haiku is not a university lecture or list of 10 commandments; it is a riddle to be deciphered by the reader. The poet invites the reader to take the 17 words and create his own imagery and own understanding. The process of seeking beyond the literal words is in itself a spiritual exercise. There is a similarity to the zen koan What is the sound of one hand clapping A Haiku has the similar effect; we need to work on understanding the meaning and inspiration of the poem. It is a different experience. A ash of lightning where there were faces plumes of pampas grass. - Basho Humour A characteristic of the Haiku Master is that they never take themselves too seriously. Life

is something to be observed and enjoyed; but, there is nothing we need to take too seriously, even this business of enlightenment. From the nostril of the Great Buddha comes a swallow - Issa A thin layer of snow coats the wings of mandarin ducks such stillness! - Shiki The Divine in All. Zen Haiku masters rarely refer directly to God. In fact the Siddharta the Buddha preferred not to mention the concept of God, because he felt it was impossible to describe the nature of God. But, Zen masters are able to see the divine in all, especially living creatures

and the environment. To a Zen Master, sacredness is not something to be conned to the temple; the divine can be seen in all. Could they be hymns? Frogs chanting in the temple well. - Kansetsu Impermanence. The Haiku poets make us aware of both the Divinity all around and the impermanence of the material world. Mosquito larvae, dancing a Buddhist chant in the water by the grave. - Issa The above poem captures many of the essential elements of a Haiku poem paradox, impermance and juxtoposing unexpected associations. We! associate Mosquito larvae

with bad things, our instinctive reaction is to want to destroy them. But, look what happens in the second poem, the poet unexpectedly brings in the joyful idea of a dancing a Buddhist chant. Even the mosquitos are part of creation; they too have a role to play in life. Here the poet, tries to lift us from the realm of good and bad and make us aware of the underlying unity of all living things. The nal line continues the theme of paradox. Water signies life; grave signies death. In these 12 words we have everything life and death. But, in the middle we have the beautiful image of! dancing a Buddhist chant. The poet is saying that in the middle of life and death there is the bliss of creation; we just have to go beyond our concepts of death, good and bad. Wisdom Sometimes the poets explicitly share wisdom; wisdom through the use of analogy. Here the

concept of non attachment is beautifully explained with the simplest of examples. By the power of complete non attachment the frog oats - Jaso We could write pages and pages of prose on the issue of non-attachment, but here the poet is able to conjure up an image revealing the simplistic power of non attachment. Part 4 - Haiku and Zen Zen Buddhism has signicantly shaped the historical development of Japanese haiku. Not all the haiku poets were Zen Buddhists, but several key gures were. Basho was Zen trained, and ordained as a priest, but he did not seem to make up his mind if he was a priest or not. In one of his travel sketches he describes himself as being dressed in a priests black robe, "but neither a priest nor an ordinary man

of this world was I, for I wavered ceaselessly like a bat that passes for a bird at one time and for a mouse at another." He did not have a parish and priestly duties, but he often wore the robes. Issa lived for several years in monasteries and took his name from the Buddhist ideas of emptiness and change. "Inasmuch as life is empty as a bubble which vanishes instantly, I will henceforth call myself Haikaiji Issa," he wrote. Haikaiji means "haiku temple" and Issa means "one tea," signifying a bubble in a cup of tea. When Issa was paralysed by a stroke at the age of fty eight, and recovered, he changed his name to Soseibo, meaning "Revived priest." The ancient poets Basho most admired were two Chinese Zen eccentrics who lived on 'Cold Mountain' sometime between the sixth and ninth centuries, Han-shan and Shih-te, and a Japanese mainstream Buddhist of the twelfth

century, Priest Saigyo. One of Buddhism's 'Three Signs of Being' is that all things are subject to change. The strong emphasis on the seasons in haiku means that a sense of the changes in the natural world, paralleled in the human world, is at the core of every haiku: Hoarfrost spikes have sprung out overnight like the hairs on my chin (Koji) In Zen Buddhism there is a great enlightenment called satori, sought through many years of disciplined meditation. There are also many little ashes of enlightenment, called kensho, which are intense forms of those everyday noticings that surprise us or please us because they seem to reveal a truth, or to be exemplary, or to connect us again, momentarily, with the sense of awe. Haiku is a momentary, condensed poetic form and its

special quality is that it is perfectly adapted to give the reader that little instant of kensho insight. Basho developed the haiku form so that each haiku became a little burst of awakening. It is this that is the essence of haiku, not its number of syllables. Some haiku are explicitly about moments of kensho, and words like "awakening" are the clue: Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice (Basho, trans. Hamill) A pattering of rain on the new eaves brings me awake (Koji, trans. Chiyoko/Marsh) Zen Buddhism is centred on the practice of meditation. In meditation the trainee stills the

hectic surface activity of the mind: the constant planning, speculating, fantasising, hoping, dreading, assessing, recalling, selfcongratulation, self-doubt and so on, to which we humans are prone. When a measure of control over the runaway mind is established, a calmer space appears. ! As the trainee attends to the life-rhythms of this calm space, he or she begins to experience the things mystics of all religious traditions have always said are true of the ultimate reality: its unity, love, boundlessness. The calm space beneath thought has various names, but the sort of words that have been used traditionally for describing it are 'stillness,' 'silence,' 'emptiness,' 'nothingness,' and 'void.' ! You might imagine, from this list, that Buddhism was a form of nihilism, but that is not the case. The 'nothingness' is not barren.

Zen master Lin-chi said, 'It is vibrantly alive, yet has no root or stem. You can't gather it up, you can't scatter it to the winds. The more you search for it the farther away it gets. But don't search for it and it's right before your eyes, its miraculous sound always in your ears.' (The Zen Teachings of Master Lin-chi translated by Burton Watson, Shambhala Publications 1993 p.58). Poets are struggling to convey the inexpressible, to nd images for the 'miraculous sound' in the heart of the silence. Zen poets hear the sound of the life-force emerging from emptiness to ll everything: The skylark: Its voice alone fell, Leaving nothing behind (Ampu, trans. Blyth) The silence; The voice of the cicadas Penetrates the rocks. (Basho, trans. Blyth)

The sense of nothingness or emptiness unites everything: Fields and mountains all taken by snow; nothing remains (Joso, trans. Horioka, amended by Marsh) Meditation can be indicated by the word 'sit' or some phrase referring to stillness, but it is a stillness in the midst of the rush of active life: Deep within the stream the huge sh lie motionless facing the current (J.W. Hackett) ! On a rock in the rapids sits a fallen camellia (Miura Yuzuru, trans. Chiyoko/Marsh) The posture for meditation sitting, cross-

legged on a cushion, is a matter of balance: the gull soars on nothing but slight corrections to the tilt of its nose (George Marsh) The meditation hall, called a zendo, is the place for going from the particular to the universal: In the zendo when the coughing ceased all sound ceased (Satokawa Suisho trans. Marsh) The black robes of a crow might remind one of a priest: The crow sits on a dead branch evening of autumn (Basho, trans. Marsh) ! Why ap to town?

A country crow going to market (Basho, trans. Marsh) Lao Tsu was the original archetype of The Sage. He lived ve hundred years before Christ and wrote The Book of The Way (Tao Te Ching). So references to paths, roads, ways and so on are always resonant. Living the religious life of meditation practice has been known in the East as following 'The Way' or 'The Path' from the time of Lao Tsu, more than a thousand years before Buddhism came to China. By extension, the arts through which people express their meditative understanding are also known as The Ways: ower arranging, archery, tea ceremony, acting, dancing and poetry are among them. Since meditation is essentially something one can only do focused on the inner life, even when many people meditate together, the references often have a lonely quality - even more so in

the case of Basho, who struck out on his own poetic path: My way no-one on the road and it's autumn, getting dark (Basho, trans. Marsh) ! Beyond the crossroads deep into autumn the hillroad disappears (James Norton) The acceptance of an essential loneliness in the human condition is a characteristic of the Buddhist meditator. It is a loneliness that we recognise in others, too: The scarecrow in the distance; it walked with me as I walked (San-in) The long night

made longer by a dogs barking (Santoka, trans. Stevens) An octopus pot inside, a short-lived dream under the summer moon (Basho, trans.Ueda) To Basho the road was not just a literary or religious metaphor. He was a traveller, walking the open road on journeys the length and breadth of Japan. In the twentieth century another Zen Buddhist haiku poet followed in his footsteps. Santoka Taneda lived as a wandering mendicant monk, a 'gentleman of the road.' For him the lonely path was a daily reality: There is nothing else I can do; I walk on and on. (Santoka, trans. Stevens)

Going deeper And still deeper The green mountains. (Santoka, trans. Stevens) Wet with morning dew, I go in the direction I want. (Santoka, trans. Stevens) The road is a palpably real experience to Santoka and Basho, as well as a metaphor for one's chosen life-path. Fish do lie facing the current; gulls do soar on the wind adjusting the angle of their beaks; and snow does take the features from the landscape. Haiku imagery is always rst and foremost a real observation. It never merely illustrates an idea. It is not simile. The poems that have the most resonance and power, however, are those that are observations which have a symbolic after-taste. The symbolic dimension is an echo of the primary meaning, uniting the particular

detail which is being noticed - often natural with a human signicance. ! By George Marsh Part 8 - Interviews with Haiku masters Extracts from Lucien Stryks The Awakened Self: Encounters with Zen published by Kodansha, 1995. Waning Moon Press is grateful to Lucien Stryk for permission to quote extended extracts from his writings. Rinzai Zen Master Nakamura is interviewed by Lucien Stryk: Nakamura: There's nothing intrinsically Zen in any art, in spite of the way some seem to reect Zen principles. It is the man who brings Zen to the art he practices. Stryk: But surely some arts would not have developed as they did had it not been for Zen. Haiku, for example. Basho was profoundly

Zenist, an enlightened man, and quite possibly for that reason haiku became an important art. Nakamura: There is to be sure a strong taste of Zen in his best poems, and its true he studied Zen with the master Butcho. Perhaps he best illustrates the point I am making. He brought Zen to the art of haiku, which was wellestablished before he came onto the scene. It wasn't really there before him. Stryk: It might equally be said, would you agree, that there was not true haiku before him? Surely, from Basho on, theres something characteristically Zen-like in the form itself. The greatest haiku contain the sense of revelation we associate with Zen, and theres compression. Nakamura: Many haiku, those of its nest practitioners, have no Zen whatsoever. No, it is man who lls a poem with Zen. Haiku writer Fujiwara of the "traditional"

strict-form Ten-Ro school is interviewed by Lucien Stryk. Fujiwara: Haiku, we like to feel, is the greatest of the Zen arts. As you know, Basho, our greatest haiku writer, was a Zenist. All important haiku artists have been. Every place is full of poetry. All one has to do is go nd the poems. Thats why we can write one hundred poems in a day about a place we visit. We select an interesting and beautiful place and, on the spot, compose its poetry Were made aware, through active seeking, of the presence of poetry all around us; we begin, slowly to be sure, to see our personal world in the same spirit. I assure you the practice is based on fundamentals which lead to great discoveries. Fujiwara: A good writer ignores no aspect of contemporary life. Stryk: Machines, automobiles, highrises, that

sort of thing? Fujiwara: Why not, among many? They make our world, whether we like it or not. In TenRo we examine everything, nothing is too low or high for us.Traditional in method, we are very modern in spirit. Stryk: Then the work of Basho is archaic in language? Fujiwara: The themes are not as interesting. It excites me to see how far one can take haiku into reality very challenging to write of things never before associated with art. Stryk: How many feel as you do on that subject? Fujiwara: All good writers! The others are for the most part poor imitators of Basho and Buson, using their language, images, and I suspect they know it. Disgraceful, yet they cant help it

In haiku there is a weeding out of all that would clutter, muddy, confuse, - leading to great incisiveness, clear purpose. What we are looking for, guided by Zen, is revelation. Small as it is, the haiku is a repository of great wisdom, has been now for centuries. Haiku writer Uchijima of the "free verse" So-Un school is interviewed by Lucien Stryk. Stryk: The So-Un school is perhaps the most unusual in the history of the art. In some quarters its little short of notorious! Uchijima: Yes, the rst So-Un writes were clearly inuenced by the the writers of free verse, but, if anything, their innovations were more daring. Never in three hundred years had anyone dared depart from strict haiku form. Stryk: You mean the abandoning of the seventeen-syllable limitation? Uchijima: That was the most obvious break

with the past, but not the only. The idea behind all of So-Uns departures from the norm was precisely that they had become the norm. Our rst writers wanted to restore haikus vigour: the art was in a bad way little originality, less depth. They wanted to return to the spirit of Basho. Were still trying to do just that. Stryk: Were the rst So-Un poets Zenists? Uchijima: Yes, above all they wanted their works to have Zen spirit. Stryk: How would you sum up the ideals of So-Un? Uchijima: To put it simply, signicance. Stryk: Signicance? You mean seriousness of theme? Uchijima: That and depth of treatment, whatever the theme. I tell my students haiku is not a game. We arent a mutual admiration

society I expect my work to be judged sternly. Better to struggle with a sick jackass than carry the wood by yourself.! Zen Proverb A samurai once asked Zen Master Hakuin where he would go after he died. Hakuin answered: How am I supposed to know? How do you not know? Youre a Zen master! exclaimed the samurai. Yes, but not a dead one, Hakuin answered. Student says: I am very discouraged what should I do? Master says: Encourage others Zen Proverb

Zen and the Art of Haiku By Anna Poplawska Tis better to be brief than tedious. -- Shakespeare In March the Jung Institute in Evanston invited David Rosen, MD, a Jungian analyst from Texas A & M University, to present a program entitled, Haiku, Zen and Jungs Psychology. Dr. Rosen considers haiku a spiritual art form that promotes deep spiritual healing among its practitioners (haiku composers) and readers. The art of writing haiku began with Japanese Zen monks; now, however, the form has spread all over the world. In Japan itself, it has become a folk art and a cultural icon. Most Japanese have written haiku, and in a culture more open to creative expression than our own, there are generally at least a few published in every Japanese newspaper.

Traditionally haiku are short poems of three lines, with ve syllables in the rst line, seven in the second and ve in the third. Due to language differences, haiku written in English, using this same syllable count, often include more information than would be possible in Japanese. Thus, contemporary American poets are free to write shorter haiku with one to three lines and up to 17 syllables. The shortness of these poems is a reection of Zen philosophy, which, like yoga, emphasizes being in the moment. Unlike other poetry, haiku generally do not use metaphor or obscure imagery, nor do they reect the feelings or inner life of the poet--at least in an obvious way. It is rather an expression of egolessness in which the poet turns outward to fully experience and capture the essence of being in a particular moment at a particular place.

Old pond A frog jumps in The sound of water. ! ! ! ! !

Most of us have seen this haiku by Basho (16441694). Its probably the most famous haiku ever written. What we werent told by our high school or grade school English teachers is that haiku come out of the spiritual life of the writer, and the best ones speak to the spiritual life of the reader. Dr. Rosen explained that the old pond represents a state of oneness with nature and a mind that has become still, egoless. Then the frog jumps in and the sound of water breaking the silence represents the something happening, satori, the moment of enlightenment. The haiku makes no reference to a past or a future or to a real or imagined self. It describes something that is very ordinary. Yet in the process of capturing it, the ordinary is transformed into something extraordinary. The poet and the object have become one. The spiritually healing effect of haiku derives from their ability to take us out of ourselves.

For example, consider another Basho haiku: On a leaess branch, A crow comes to rest Autumn nightfall. Dr. Rosen explained that if we are busy, if we are lost in our own thoughts, worrying about problems or planning tomorrows activities, we wont even notice the crow on the branch. On the other hand, if we are alone and wandering in nature, our mind becomes free to contemplate and to be more deeply present in the moment. Haiku are born out of this experience. Traditional haiku were written about nature, but modern practitioners dont always adhere to this. It isnt necessary to understand haiku or interpret them. Nor is it clear that all haiku can be interpreted. Rather, as readers, we are invited to share the experience of being in the moment with the poet. Through this, we learn to appreciate the beauty inherent in our own lives.

After all, What is life but a collection of very ordinary moments? asked Dr. Rosen. He then shared one of his own moments of transcendence: A eld of deep grass, Its vibrant eruption Of orange-red poppies. One of the things that we gain from reading haiku--or any poetry--is a recognition of the universality of experience. This in itself is healing. Often when we have an experience, we think we are the only ones who feel this way. When we are lonely, its easy to think that other people have more friends or better friends. When we feel compassion, its easy to look around and see how the world is organized and think that other people dont care the way we do. When we sit down to write a haiku, a poem or a story, we are convinced that there is something wrong with us when we cant nd the right words. But

then, we come across a haiku such as this one by Hokushi (16671718), and it sets us free from those feelings of inadequacy: I write, erase, rewrite, Erase again, and then A poppy blooms. We recognize that even Zen monks who wrote 300 years ago had trouble getting it right. This recognition enables us to accept our common humanity--one of the steps on the road to transcendence. We then sit down to write our own haiku, understanding that we are really no different, no better or worse than Hokushi or Basho. We are merely living in a different century. Haiku is a form that is deceptively simple. The apparent simplicity is part of the attraction many feel to writing them. We dont feel intimidated. We dont feel like we have to twist our brain cells into a metaphorical lotus posture to come up with complex, highfalutin

commentary on life. The recognition that writing haiku is something we can do is also a part of the healing effect. The simplicity of haiku is also what gives them the exibility to be integrated into other related forms. For instance, haiku poets might also write haibun. These are prose essays that might describe a situation in which healing is called for or the experience that led up to the writing of the haiku, and the haiku themselves are incorporated into the body of the essay. A haiga is a work of art that is meant to be hung on a wall. The haiku is written out in calligraphy and a Japanese brush-painted image is used to illustrate it. Those who feel they need more syllables to express themselves might try writing tanka, which allow 31 syllables. A tradition among prisoners sentenced to death is to be allowed to choose their last meal. A tradition among Zen monks is to write

a last haiku when they know that they are about to pass out of this life. Some of these haiku have been collected into the book Japanese Death Poems by Yoel Hoffman. It includes this poem by Gozan, written on December 17, 1789, at the age of 71: The snow of yesterday That fell like cherry petals Is water once again. Asked to what extent Zen Buddhism continues to inuence contemporary practitioners, Charlie Trumbull, president of the American Haiku Society, explained, There are people who want to forget about Zen. They say that its an American form now, and we ought to let go of the Japanese aspects. But Im not one of them. Zen itself is kind of spongy and difcult to dene, because the moment you think youve succeeded its not Zen anymore, so you really need to read the haiku themselves to see. I think that the more Zen

you nd in a haiku, the more successful its likely to be. Because if its not Zen, then its probably intellectualization and wordplay, which are denitely not a part of haiku. He gave the example of this well-known Zen-like haiku by Jack Cain (1969): an empty elevator opens closes Dr. David Rosen is the author of Tao of Jung, Tao of Elvis and Transforming Depression, and co-author with Joel Weishaus of The Healing Spirit of Haiku.