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Before he was Basho
Born outside of Kyoto, Matsuo
Kinsaku was the son of a low-
ranking Samurai. Little is known
of his early years. However, after
writing verse as a child, Matsuo
moved to Edo (present-day
Tokyo) where he worked towards
establishing himself as a writer.
He quickly became a central
figure in the burgeoning literary
scene of Edo, writing numerous
hundred-verse renkus (with
another poet), presiding over
haiku contests and producing
anthologies of verse.
By the age of 34 Matsuo was
recognized as a master and a
circle of poets began to form
around him. Ironically, it was
at this time Matsuo began
to recede from the scene. He
moved to modest dwellings —
a gamekeepers hut — outside
of town. It was there that he
received an unexpected gift that
changed him: One of his students
gave him a banana tree, or basho.
The banana tree is a broad-leaved
plant that tends to dwarf other
plants around it. It also was an
exotic tree, uncommon to Japan.
Perhaps for these reasons, from
that point on, Matsuo (who had
used other pen names before)
became known simply as Basho.
Every hut he inhabited the rest of
his life included a basho tree and
he often traveled carrying one
with him.
Basho’s studies began to
widen, encompassing much
Chinese literature. He also
shaved his head and began work
as a lay-monk. He developed
a love for solitude and it was
then that his true poetic form
began to present itself. He
began to combine his influences,
particularly the traditional forms
of Japanese poetry with Zen-
inspired aesthetics.
Much is known of his life as
a poet as his followers took care
to record as much about Basho
as they could. They sensed his
mastery. And in the last nine
years of his life he experienced
his most fertile period as a poet.
During this period, he also
began his period of life on the
road. He gave up virtually all
his possessions and took to the
countryside of Japan. He kept
records of his travels in what he
called his “sketchbooks”. These
included everything from direct
recordings of the day’s events, to
haiku composed along the way,
to fictionalized stories that he
thought of as he traveled.
Basho achieved a realization
during his travels, a satori where
he sensed muga, which is the
elimination of the self and the
absorption of the self into what
one is writing about. Of course,
the master himself put it best.
One of his disciples, Doho,
wrote: “The master said, ‘Learn
about a pine tree from a pine tree,
and about a bamboo stalk from a
bamboo stalk.’”
Basho taught that the poet
should always detach the mind
from the self and enter the object,
“sharing its delicate life and
feelings.”
Each time Basho set off on a
pilgrimage he would sell all he
had, fully expecting that each trip
would be his last. He referred
to it as setting off into eternity.
But each time he returned
safely, with sketchbooks full
of newly composed haiku and
travel stories. And each time he
returned his disciples would
provide him with a home that
included basho trees planted in
the garden.
In 1694, Basho truly set off into
eternity, this time on a trip to
Japan’s southwestern provinces.
He grew gravely ill shortly into
his trip and died of dysentery
at the ripe old age of 50. He
was buried in a temple at Otsu
overlooking the lake he loved to
gaze at, Lake Biwa.
This was his final haiku,
written for the friends he was
staying with at the time of his
death:
Sick on a journey-
Over parched fields
Dreams wander on
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