WEBVTT

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Hello friends in Boston.

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I'm Janine Beichman.

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I'm so glad to be here today and
so grateful to Keith Vincent for

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making it possible for me to participate
from such a long distance by video.

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However I have to confess that I've never
given a presentation by video before so

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I am the tiniest bit nervous
in any case let's go.

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The spiritual life of an octopus,
a woman back from Flower viewing and

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undressing in the privacy of her bedroom,

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the pale almost unearthly cries
of wild ducks at twilight.

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What could they possibly have in
common not much one would think but

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strangely enough there is room for

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them all in the haiku the shortest
form of poetry in the world.

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Here they are.

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Octopus pots--brief dreams
beneath the summer moon.

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I slip off my flowery kimono,
uncurl rainbows of laces.

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The sea grows dark,
the wild ducks' cries faintly white.

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Common every day things all of them but
within it ethereal almost surreal quality.

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The first poem is by Matsuo Bashō,

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the greatest haiku poet of all--as
I'm sure everyone here knows.

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Octopus pots were ceramic pots that take
advantage of the propensity of octopuses

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for hiding in nicks and crannies.

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The fishermen lower the pots to
the bottom of the sea during the day and

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then pull them up shortly before dawn.

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In the darkness of the pot, as it rests on
the floor of the sea, the octopus settles

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in for the night--innocently dreaming or
so the poet imagines.

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At dawn when it is holed
up it's brief dream for

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summer nights assure it will be over.

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Our life,
its life is no more than a dream but

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it has been touched by the moon
symbol of enlightenment and eternity.

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I will come back to this poem again but

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for now let's move on to the second
one which is by Sugita Hisajo,

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one of the major haiku poets of
the twentieth century, and a woman.

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I slip off my flowery kimono,
uncurl rainbows of laces.

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Back from flower viewing
the woman undoes her kimono,

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which is patterned with flowers for
the season.

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As everyone here again probably knows,
kimonos have no zippers or

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buttons but
are held in place by fabric cords.

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Beneath the kimono itself is the under
kimono, and beneath that a simple shift so

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the woman in a formal kimono was all
wrapped up in cords and strings and

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laces of cotton and silk in a variety
of colors and shapes like a package.

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As she slowly unwraps
herself the cords and

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ties open--trail full--making
a rainbow of colors.

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When this poem was first published in
1919, almost one hundred years ago,

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it was interpreted as a simple
celebration of uniquely female

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experience although there were some
muttering about its so-called narcissism.

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The sensuality is more unabashedly
celebrated today but the courts and

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laces are also read as symbols of
the social restraints that bound women so

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tightly when the poem was written.

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To my twenty first century ears
a phrase from a poem by the poet called

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Sapphire describes
Hisajo's poem perfectly.

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"Pain pulled through the eye
of beauty" Sapphire wrote.

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That's exactly what this poem is.

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The third poem is by Basho again.

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Night is coming over the sea and the cries
of the wild ducks calling back and

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forth somehow seem to take on body and
color,

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pale against the darkness,
mingling with the last left over light.

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The synesthesia or
the mingling of senses in this poem

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appears in a number of
Basho's other poems as well.

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Parenthetically, let me add that the idea
to use six lines in the translation

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is mine not--doesn't come from
Basho's original poem and of course

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all the translations used here today are
my own except where noted in two cases.

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Haiku has other tones than the slightly
surreal symbolic one of these three poems.

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One that we are familiar with that we may
even think of as quintessentially haiku

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like is the down to earth
tone of the next three poems.

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Here we have Matsuo Basho again,
then Yosa Buso, then Kobayashi Issa.

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Autumn's nearly gone--how does
my neighbor make his living?

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The pleasure of crossing
a summer stream sandals in hand.

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Snow thawed,
suddenly the village fills with children.

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And then there are poems like the next
two, also seemingly very simple but rather

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than being about happy topics like beauty
or pleasure they are about pain and death.

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Kobayashi Issa,
on the death of his infant daughter:

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The world of dew is a world of dew and
yet...

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and yet...

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Masaoka Shiki, on his death bed:

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How much life is left to
me--brief these summer nights.

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Unlike the previous poems,
these autobiographical poems by Issa and

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Shiki are so personal,
that knowing who wrote them and

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a little about the circumstances
adds a great deal to the poem.

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But sometimes we don't need to add the
poets name because he does it himself as

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here where Issa, who always
identified with the downtrodden and

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oppressed, introduces
himself to a small frog.

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"Skinny little frog don't
give in--here is Issa".

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So now that I've touched on the four
greats of haiku--Basho, Buson, Issa, and

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Shiki--let's move on to the form
itself and its origins.

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What we now call haiku was not originally
the independent form that it is today

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it originally appeared either within works
of prose like Basho's famous travel diary,

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"The narrow road to the north", or
as the first link in the chain of linked

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verses called haikai no renga or
informal linked verse.

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Many of the verses that
are now famous as haiku,

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were originally the first
link in a linked verse chain.

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Yosa Buson's, "Mustard-seed flowers,

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moon in the east ,sun in
the West" is one example.

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Here it is in its original context
followed by the second verse

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composed by Buson's disciple and
friend Chiyoda.

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Mustard-seed flowers...

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moon in the east, sun in the west.

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Far off at the mountain's foot
,herons fade into the mist.

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Buson's poem is a description
of an early spring evening and

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that season sunset and
moonrise coincide and almost coincide and

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the bright yellow of the mustard
seed flowers lights up the fields.

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Buson describes the scene as though he
were standing somewhere outside the field,

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watching the moon rise in the east and
opposite it the sunset in the West.

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Chiyoda, his eyes led
by a flock of herons or

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perhaps one heron, extends the line of
sight towards a mountain in the distance.

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One modern reader,
the poet and critic commented,

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"Read together it is as if one's
eyes were sweeping over a pastoral

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landscape of the late eighteenth
century in panoramic fashion".

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It was Matsuo Basho and his followers
who had brought in formal linked

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verse to a peak of artistic perfection
in the seventeenth century before Buson,

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and by the late Edo period linked
verse had become extremely popular.

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This led paradoxically to a watering
down of standards, and in general

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the debasement of the art, which combined
with the vogue for all things Western in

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the early Meiji period threatened for
a time to kill off not only linked verse,

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but also that first verse haiku, which
had achieved semi independence by then.

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It was this dismal fate from which the
passion determination and brilliance of

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Matsuoka Shiki -- his birthday we
are celebrating today -- saved it.

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So why was Shiki so
passionate about haiku?

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What was it about haiku and what was it
about him that brought them together for

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their fateful encounter?

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Shiki chronicled the beginning of
his own love affair with Haiku

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with disarming simplicity and humor
in his sick bed diary: A Drop of Ink.

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Looking back on his college days when he
moved out of the dormitory to a house

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where he lived alone he describes
how his obsession with Haiku led

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to his flunking out of school.

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His desk was usually cluttered
with Haiku books and novels but

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when an exam loomed loomed he would
neaten it up and set out his notes.

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But then, as he writes: "When I
sat down quietly and saw it so

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bare and neat I felt a nameless pleasure.

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"As soon as I felt so pleasant and
cheerful a Haiku would flash into my

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mind." When I opened my notebook
a seven hundred syllable verse

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would emerge before I could read a page."
"I couldn't write it down since I had

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put my poetry notebook and
even my stationery away so

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I would write it on the lampshade."
"Verse after verse came forth,

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entranced I abandoned the examination
to cover the lampshade with writing."

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"I was in such a state that as soon
as I tried to stop writing haiku and

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prepare for an examination, verses
would flash through my mind in droves,

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examinations came to me nothing but
a flood of poetry." "Bewitched

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by the goddess of haiku nothing
could save me." "I failed the final

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examinations of eighteen ninety two and
withdrew from school once and for all".

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Partly then it was the ease of writing
haiku that made it attractive but

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it was also the fact that for some reason
haiku was a particularly congenial way for

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Shiki to express his sheer
pleasure at being alive.

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As Shiki got more into the form
he began making some rules for

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himself and
then teaching them to other people.

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The most important one was dedicated
observation of one's surroundings.

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He made this into a strict discipline

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the most fundamental exercise
in the poet's training.

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In eighteen ninety nine and
his instructions to the beginning poets

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under his care he wrote this:
"You must not stop when

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you have managed to extract one or
two poems from some broad view."

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"Next you must look down at your feet and
write about what you see--there the grass,

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the flowers in bloom." "If you write
about each, you will have ten or

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twenty poems without moving from where
you are." "Take your materials from what

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is around you--if you see a dandelion,
write about that: if there is mist,

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write about the mist." "The materials for
poems are all about you in abundance".

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In these vivid and
encouraging instructions Shiki

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emphasizes looking at nature
in quite a matter of fact way.

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In a different essay however he showed
that you can observe nature by listening

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as well as looking simply by closing
your eyes and listening intently.

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In the back story for Basho's famous
poem about the frog: "old pond,

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a frog hops in the waters sound",

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he imagined Basho alone in his
cottage at a creative impasse.

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Bored and dissatisfied with
the poetic styles current at the time

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he is brooding over how to create his
own distinctive poems or as we would put

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it he's trying to think about how
he can find his voice as the poet.

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"Lost in his thoughts" writes Shiki,
"[Basho] felt as though a dense

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fog had fallen, and simply sat there
in a trance, neither asleep nor

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awake." "At the moment when all nature was
quiet and all his daydreams had faded out

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he heard the sound of a frog jumping
into the old pond outside his window." "

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He himself did not murmur them nor
did anyone speak but

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the lines, 'A frog hops in:
the water's sound' reached his

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ears." "As though awakening from
a dream he inclined his head for

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a moment and then raised it and
a broad smile broke out upon his face".

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In other words he knew where
he was going from there.

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To sum up at the basis of the famous
frog haiku in Shiki's view was

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observation of an unusually intense
sort really concentrating on

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what is around you really being there
in the moment not simply looking or

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listening but being wholly present.

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This is what we now call mindfulness and

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for Shiki it was the cornerstone
of haiku composition.

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Shiki's signature method,
the sketch from life,

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Bushasei, rests upon this
kind of intense observation.

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When practice devotedly it led to
something more than reflecting reality

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it drew the practitioner into
a kind of quiet creative ecstasy,

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which Shiki recorded himself.

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As Shiki put it in "Haiku Wastebasket":
"The writer takes his raw

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materials from nature, then refines
them and makes them part of his own

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imagination." "In this sense one
may call him a second Creator".

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In his diary, "A Sixfoot Sickbed",
Shiki recorded a moment when he actually

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came to feel that he knew what it was
like to be the creator of the world,

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the medium is visual not verbal but
the idea is the same: "I had

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a flowering branch placed beside my
pillow." "As I faithfully sketch it,

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I feel I'm gradually coming to understand
the secrets of Creation..." "One

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of the joys of sketching from life lies in
pondering how to obtain a slightly darker

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red or a rather more yellowish one."
"When the gods first dyed the flowers

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did they too lose themselves
in musings like this?".

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So haiku brought Shiki happiness
more than any other activity did

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because in it he used first
mindful observation, and

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second his imagination, and
at times he achieved moments of ecstasy.

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Mindfulness and
imagination were linked not separate.

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How does this apply to other poets
specifically to Shiki's views of

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Yosa Buson, who was rediscovered by Shiki?

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Shiki pointed to two things especially
in Buson: one was Buson's gift for

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precise observation and
the other was his use of imagination.

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In such poems as these,

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Buson observed small precise
details of natural flora and fauna.

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"The peonies petals scatter pile of two
then three." "Struck by a raindrop,

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snail closes up." "Some
sandals walked on flowers,

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I see-- That morning lazybones!".

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As for poems of imagination these
were two examples: "Harvest

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Moon-- a rabbit crossing Suwa Lake."
"Give me lodging he cries,

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flinging down his
sword--what a blizzard!".

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In "Harvest Moon", one needs to think
about the light of a full moon and

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how it would make the lake look,
the white wavelets that would be there and

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which could look like a white
rabbit cross hopping across Lake.

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The White Rabbit who of course is
the rabbit in the moon come down to earth.

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"Give me lodging",
is like a line in a story:

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a samurai comes rushing in from
a frigid snowy night begging for

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lodging, throwing down his sword to
show he has no intention to harm anyone.

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As for Basho, Shiki revered Basho for
qualities opposite to those for

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which he admired Buson.

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The most important was Basho's mastery of
the tone of "sublimity and grandeur" to

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use Shiki's words, the macroscopic
scale of some of his poems as in

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this famous poem "Stormy seas--stretching
over to Sado the Milky Way".

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Shiki thought this was a realistic
description of looking out from the coast

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of Niigata to the island of Sado said
home of so many medieval exiles,

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but many years after Shiki died,
the diary of Bahso's travel companion Sora

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was discovered and there was found that
Sora had recorded that on the night

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of the poem it was actually raining and
Sado was invisible because of the clouds.

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Shiki was wrong in thinking that this
was a poem of natural observations yet

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it still fulfills his own
dictum that observation and

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imagination should go hand in hand.

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How did this interplay of mindfulness and
imagination play out in these own poetry?

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For an idea let's look at Shiki's famous
poem on the coxcombs in his garden.

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"Coxcomb flowers coxcomb flowers
must be fourteen maybe fifteen".

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Coxcomb flowers are bright red, rather
tall and their petals are very thick.

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Shiki titled the poem looking
out at the garden--on first

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reading it seems no more than
a casual comment to himself or

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to someone sitting nearby as he lies
on his sick bed looking outside.

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But if one visualizes the mortally ill
person that he was speaking the poem in

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a quiet voice to someone very nearby and
intimate it suddenly expands.

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Now the flowers with their
magnificent powerful red and

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00:19:20.709 --> 00:19:24.598
strong thick forms impress
him with their vitality but

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at the same time there are they are his
own opposite emphasizing his own decay.

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In Haiku we may say the reader,
having imagined this,

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possesses the power of life and
death over the poem.

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I have always thought that this was one of
the few possible interpretations possible

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but recently thanks to Keith Vincent
who introduced it in his Shiki series

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I learnt that Ogama Koto had proposed
a completely different interpretation.

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Shiki argues Oka is remembering
a time from the year before

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when a typhoon destroyed the flowers.

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Before the storm there had been
fourteen or fifteen of them and

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he misses them now but only Joshi of all
the people of the poem party on that day,

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the day Shiki wrote the poem had also
been there when the typhoon struck, so

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the poem was a sort of
quiet memory shared with

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with Kyoshi-- a remark that expressed
his feeling of friendship and love.

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Based on this interpretation Keith
offers a totally different translation

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big red coxcombs' stalks fourteen or
fifteen of them, do you remember?

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The question is do we have to choose one
or the other of the two interpretations?

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I would say no.

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I want to plot it like a fan with
the poem itself as the pivot.

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And different interpretations radiating
from there like spokes on the fan and

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of course each interpretation has in
turn at least one possible translation.

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The Coxcomb poem is an extreme
example of how much

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the interpretation of a haiku can vary
depending on what the reader brings to it.

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In terms of mindfulness and
imagination you could say that Shiki has

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supplied the mindfulness, the intense
observation of the flower, but the reader

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supplies most of the imagination,
aided by the headnote and in Oka and

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Keith's interpretation-translation by
Shiki's prose essays about the coxcombs.

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That's about it for
imagination and observation or

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mindfulness and
I want to move on now to the second

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pair that I spoke of in my abstract
to lightness and stickiness.

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First lightness by which I mean a certain
casual in a certain light heartedness

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a kind of brightness.

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Lightness is inherent in haikai linked
verse, the first session on record took

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place in 1206 as a way for some poets
to relax and kick up their heels

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by composing informal linked verse
after a strenuous court walk a session.

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Even after haiku became its own
independent form it kept that lightness

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but at the same time it acquired
something I call stickiness.

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By this I mean something about
the poem that hangs on and

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doesn't let you go so that you keep
coming back to it in your mind.

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Other people might call this profundity
but I use stickiness to emphasize the feel

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of it how it sticks to your mind even your
body is not an intellectual thing but

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a whole body thing as the poem
inscribed to self in your mind and

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body maybe even burrows into your life.

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In his poem "Japan",

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Billy Collins former poet laureate of
the United States, riffs on a haiku by

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Buson in a way that evokes this strange
combination of lightness and stickiness.

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Here is the haiku by Buson: "Perched on
a temple bell, asleep-- a butterfly".

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And here is the translation, that there
is convincing evidence Collins used,

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on the one, or the convincing evidence
that Collins knew the poem: "On

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the one-ton temple bell a moon-moth,
folded into sleep, sits still.".

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This of course is by ex
Jake Kennedy not by me.

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In either translation as in the original,
we have a tiny insect on a large bell.

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This is a light subject--there's something
sweet in charming about this innocent

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creature resting on the huge bell which
could begin to ring at any minute and

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the same time there is
a sense of suspense.

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When will the bell ring and
upset the delicate balance of this moment?

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Will the butterfly leave before then or
not?

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So what seems a casual
observation actually

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catches a fragile moment of
stillness between two actions.

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Collins describes himself walking through
the House saying the haiku's quote a few

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words over and over like eating the same
small perfect grape again and again.

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But the haiku's images keep expanding
in his mind as he recites it

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00:24:02.298 --> 00:24:06.948
by the time you get to the last stanzas of
his longish poem there is nothing small or

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perfect about the original haiku.

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The bell is the world, the moth is
life--that moment of balance between two

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actions has been magnified
a million times.

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00:24:16.859 --> 00:24:22.128
These are the last stanzas of his poem:
"when I say it at the window the bell

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is the world and I am the mall resting
there." "When I say it into the mirror,

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00:24:27.189 --> 00:24:32.679
I am the heavy bell and the moth is
life with its papery wings." "And later

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00:24:32.679 --> 00:24:38.929
when I say to you in the dark, you are
the bell ,and I am the tongue of the bell

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00:24:38.929 --> 00:24:44.228
ringing you." "And the moth has flown,

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00:24:44.228 --> 00:24:48.939
from its line, and moves like
a hinge in the air above our bed".

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00:24:50.429 --> 00:24:54.999
I think Collins explains stickiness
about as well as anyone could.

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Now we come to generosity and why I
want to call the haiku a generous form.

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Let me explain, the multiple readings that

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Collins describes of Buson's poem
are not confusing, they are enriching.

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Like a plume of Suzuki grass swaying
in the wind he does not waver but

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simply moves to and
fro choosing now one now another.

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Haiku allows this freedom,

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in fact encourages it,
largely because of its minimalism.

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I stress the minimalism part here
because I don't want to be too wonky but

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haiku's close relationship to classical
literature is another reason for

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00:25:34.619 --> 00:25:36.451
its poly polyvocalism.

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00:25:36.451 --> 00:25:41.059
Haiku's suggestiveness and
elusiveness, it's permissiveness

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if we may call it that, have an effect
on readers and writers of haiku.

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00:25:46.269 --> 00:25:51.019
The plenitude of possible interpretations
none of which cancel each other out makes

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one feel for a time anyway that, dare I
say it, the universe itself is generous.

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Even if Shiki did not practice
the kind of close readings that we do

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I think he felt this quality in haiku.

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In line with my emphasis on multi
interpretations I want to leave you with

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one more reading of the octopus poem,
the first poem I talked about.

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Here it is again.

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00:26:17.238 --> 00:26:22.999
"Octopus pots--brief dreams
beneath the summer moon.".

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00:26:24.249 --> 00:26:28.254
When I was a child living on the shores
of a small harbor in Connecticut,

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lobstermen used to set their traps
in the waters off our house and

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00:26:32.669 --> 00:26:37.609
in return for letting us for letting them
use our driveway to park their truck

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00:26:37.609 --> 00:26:41.628
they would give us the lobsters that were
missing claws, which they could not sell.

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00:26:42.728 --> 00:26:46.959
Many years later when I first read
Basho's poem about the octopus's,

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I imagine the octopus pot, which I
had never seen as a lobster pot, and

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every time I read the poem I thought
of a place where I had grown up.

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The poem's lightness is in the unsteady
comparison of human beings to the octopus,

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which is slightly ridiculous.

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00:27:03.238 --> 00:27:05.429
But its stickiness is there too,

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that comparison that you can't get out
of your mind and it never goes away.

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00:27:09.729 --> 00:27:12.319
Somehow your mind going back and
forth to and

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00:27:12.319 --> 00:27:16.019
fro between the octopus
drifting in its underwater pot,

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00:27:16.019 --> 00:27:20.569
the moon that shines down for the bright
brief night on the dreams within the pot

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00:27:20.569 --> 00:27:24.129
and shines down too on our own lives,
which are also dreams.

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How are we any different from the octopus?

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00:27:28.579 --> 00:27:33.704
We aren't in but in Basho's poem
we meet the octopus and it is us.

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Basho's haiku on the octopus can
survive my double exposure reading,

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00:27:39.318 --> 00:27:44.829
in fact thrives on it, becomes for me at
least a bigger poem a more memorable one.

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00:27:44.829 --> 00:27:50.589
Just because the octopus in my imagination
mingle with the actual lobsters I saw and

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00:27:50.589 --> 00:27:55.089
sometimes ate as a child my
early reading or misreading,

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00:27:55.089 --> 00:27:59.818
if that's what it was, is folded
into my later reading of the poem.

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Effortlessly the poem expands to
include: me and my childhood home,

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00:28:04.367 --> 00:28:08.558
to include Basho,

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00:28:08.558 --> 00:28:12.738
to include that octopus in the inland
sea hundreds of years ago,

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00:28:12.738 --> 00:28:16.579
not to mention the moon,
enlightenment, eternity.

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00:28:16.579 --> 00:28:20.819
That too, all these things together,
is what I mean and

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00:28:20.819 --> 00:28:25.088
all these things able to exist together
is what I mean by the generosity.

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00:28:26.389 --> 00:28:30.229
Having come this far in my thoughts
I suddenly remembered a line

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00:28:30.229 --> 00:28:34.729
from Walt Whitman in his magisterial poem,
"Song with Myself",

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00:28:34.729 --> 00:28:39.634
which seemed to express what the goddess
of haiku could say if she could

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00:28:39.634 --> 00:28:44.429
speak: "Do I contradict
myself--very well then I

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00:28:44.429 --> 00:28:49.749
contradict myself, I am large,
I contain multitudes.".

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00:28:51.369 --> 00:28:54.338
I began with three very different subjects

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all of whom fit surprisingly
enough into the same haiku world.

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00:28:58.791 --> 00:29:03.059
I end here with two unlikely creatures,

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00:29:03.059 --> 00:29:08.518
Walt Whitman and the Goddess of haiku,
walking side by side.

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00:29:08.518 --> 00:29:13.508
Who would have thought the good old Walt
with his long lines in Promethean poems

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00:29:13.508 --> 00:29:19.809
could have anything in common with
the minimalist haiku but he does he does.

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00:29:20.948 --> 00:29:26.089
And if we listen well to both Walt and
the Goddess I think we may even hear,

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00:29:26.089 --> 00:29:30.059
to quote J.C.
Varia the power of our diversity.

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00:29:31.829 --> 00:29:34.179
Thank you everyone for listening and

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00:29:34.179 --> 00:29:38.369
I hope that these rather scattered
remarks will become fodder for

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some of the discussions that will
go on later in the symposium.

