Skin and Bones

"Shrines"

Seeing Southern California Through Basho's Journey

Each stage of Basho's journey took him to shrines and historic sites. What "shrines" and historic sites might qualify as goals for a Southern California walking journey? Here are some, probably quite obvious to anyone familiar with the region, that occur without research to me. In no particular order:

Mission San Juan Capistrano
Union Station, Los Angeles
Slushy Meadows, San Bernardino Mountains
Japanese Garden, Huntington Museum
Estudillo House, San Diego
Garden and pool, Edward-Dean Museum, Cherry Valley
Children's Forest, San Bernardino Mountains
Aqua Mansa cemetery, Rialto
Palomar Observatory
Death Valley

What places occur to you?

Southern Californians Who Walked

Seeing Southern California Through Basho's Journey

Let's start by applying Basho to Southern California in a simple and straightforward manner. We will identify persons who walked on a moral, spiritual, or political journey in Southern California. We should know who these individuals were by name; they should have written or otherwise provided a historical or physical record, because they wanted an audience to know and learn about their journey. They do not have to have lived their entire lives in Southern California, but they should have walked on foot a significant moral journey here. We have used the past tense, but by no means should we assume all interesting personalities are historical; given Southern California's outdoor ethic, many such individuals are active today. Later, we can look in their writings and into their paths for memorials of their journeys.

Here are names that leap out of Southern California history:

Father Junipero Serra
Charles Fletcher Lummis
George Whorton James
Abbot Kinney
George Chaffey
Willy Boy
Robinson Jeffers
George S. Patton, Jr.
Edmund Jaeger

Possibilities:

John Muir
Mary Austin

I will add names to this list as I discover them through research. On the above list, Edmund Jaeger is from Riverside and a desert naturalist. George Chaffey helped develop Ontario, but extensively surveyed and travelled throughout the Imperial Valley. George Patton Jr., from Pasadena, was associated with the desert in training world war two tank corps. Muir was primarily associated with the High Sierra, but did hike and explore the San Gabriel and San Bernardino ranges. I know little about San Diego and I am eager to have suggestions, in addition to Father Serra, for that region. I invite you to nominate such persons of whom you know, who would fit our criteria. Just post a comment this article.

Basho (5) The Contemplative Landscape

Groping His Way Through Suffering to Enlightenment

Basho was a follower of Zen, a small sect of Buddhism. In terms of historical genealogy, Zen was a school within the Ch'an School or Meditation School, which came to China from India in the 6th century AD. Zen became popular in Japan in the 12th century AD. The Ch'an School was itself situated within the Mahayana School, one of the two great doctrinal divisions of Buddhism. The Mahayana School placed missionary work at the center of Buddhism, calling for Buddhists to go out into the world and convert non-Buddhists to their salvationist philosophy. As a sect, Zen renounced rational understanding of doctrine as a way to free one's self from error and pain. In Zen, the Buddhist is led to sudden insight (or realization) by contemplation, especially of nature.

Here is a long passage illustrating the Zen doctrine about nature by the Chinese philosopher, Tao Sheng (fl. 400 AD), an early advocate of ideas later identified with the Ch'an School.

"The Inner Order of Things is that of Nature. To get in mystical union with Nature is Illumination. Now, that order is free from distinctive features; Illumination, however, implies change. ... The basis of existence is unchanging, unruffled, like the surface of a pond, as long as it is not stirred by unceasing reflections of outside objects. Error has ruffled its surface and thus we have lost mastery over our fate. We grope along for a way; when we have found it we desist from erroneous moves. Returning to the original perfect state, we wonder why we ever started on the journey. For we started from the goal.... But when I studied the tendencies of life, I understook that Reality is not reflected in the images of what surrounds us here, but real is what existed before this began to exist.

"If he [Buddha] is not called he does not appear. Not that he is not ready to appear, nay--Beings , by their indolence, cut themselves off from his presence and make it impossible for him to establish contact. The Buddha is like the sun; when he is high in the sky, all kinds of articles are reflected in the pond. The reflections and forms are shaped by the articles themselves, not by the sun. And there must be a clear pond, or else the Buddha cannot appear."*

Contemplation of nature as an way to enlightenment was not unique to Zen, but was generally shared within Buddhism. Here is a hymn to nature (set in India) from Psalms of the Brethren and Sisters, an early Buddhist scripture.

"Those upland glades delightful to the soul,
Where the kareri [musk rose tree] spreads its wildering wreaths,
Where sound the trumpet-calls of elephants:
Those are the braes [hillsides, views] wherein my soul delights.
Those rocky heights with hue of dark blue clouds,
Where lies embosomed many a shining tarn
Of crystal-clear, cool waters, and whose slopes
the "herds of Indra" [rain clouds] cover and bedeck:
Those are the braes wherein my soul delights. ...

Here is enough for me who fain would dwell
in meditation rapt,mindful, and tense.
Here is enough for me, who fain would seek
The highest good, a brother filled with zeal. ..."**

We can now characterize Basho's journey to the northern provinces in terms of being a Buddhist journey. His task, as a Buddhist, was to reject the phenomenal world and free himself from bodily suffering, with the goal of reaching Enlightenment. This required him to travel. While travelling, he should try to purify himself while teaching the doctrines of Buddha. His journey should take him into nature. He was expected to lose his way. He would suffer from bad weather - rain and cold; then he would find his way to a beautiful view of nature in ideal climatic conditions for contemplating the Inner Unity of Things. This was called, "groping his way."

All of these elements of the traditional Buddhist journey were present in Basho's travel. His route was confusing and occasionally so dangerous that the path could be lost: "The moor be all a tangle of paths and a stranger could easily go astray." (P. 35.) "A path disappeared up a valley amidst a dark forest of pines and cryptomerias." (P. 37.) "We asked a number of people which plant was the katsumi, but no one seemed to know." (P. 42.) "The whereabouts of many famous places is now obscure." (P. 50.) "Not knowing where we were, we lost our way and eventually arrives at a port town ..." (P. 55.) "The path was hard to follow so he recomended that we hire a guide." (P. 59.) "The river was swollen with the rains and our journey was a perilous one." (P. 63.) "There was a curious fascination about groping our way in the dark, merely imagining the beauties that lay before us,..." (P. 69.) "Today we passed the most perilous places in all the North. The precarious path led us over boulders at the foot of a sheer cliff against which huge waves break." (P. 72.) " 'We do not know the way,' " she said. 'We are helpless and afraid.' " (P. 73.) "... I did not set out until after I had eaten my evening meal, and my steps faltered as I made my way along the road in the dusk." (P. 81.)

He suffered from the bad weather. "... though it was early summer, the air was cold." (P. 37.) "That night there was was thunder and a heavy downpour, and the roof leaked just above the place where we were lying. What with the fleas and mosquitoes, sleep was impossible. On top of that, my old complaint started up again, and I really thought I was about to breathe my last." (P. 45.) "When we reached the summit, we were thoroughly chilled and could hardly breathe." (P. 65.)

After walking long and confusing paths, he arrived at beautiful views of nature that brought tranquillity and purity through contemplation of the presence of the Inner Order of things. "Early the next morning, we visited Shiogama Shrine, ... The shrine was at the top of a long flight of stone steps, and its vermilion lacquered fence was brilliant in the morning sunlight. How wonderful it is in this land of ours, I thought, that even in remote and unfrequented places such as this, the divine power of the gods is omnipresent." (P. 52.) "It has been said too many times already, but Matsushima is indeed the most beautiful place in all Japan! ... Ah! who could possibly do justice with his brush to this wondrous divine work of the Creator of the Universe or presume to describe it adequately in words!" (P. 53.)

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Page references form Britton, A Haiku Journey (Kodansha International, 1974).

* "Tao Sheng on Nirvana and the Buddha's Way," pp. 226-227, The Teachings of the Compassionate Buddha, edited by E.A. Burtt (The New American Library, 1955).

** "Songs of the Wayfarers," from "Psalms of the Brethren and Sisters," pp. 75-76, ibid.

Basho (4) Political Poetry

Promoting a Political-Cultural Renaissance

Traveling around Japan, Basho wanted to meet his poetic disciples and other poets, visit landmarks made famous in poetry, and celebrate his poetic predecessors. He was accompanied by a friend and poet, Sora, who also kept a travel diary and contributed poetry. Early in his journey, on the occasion of visiting a famous shrine, Basho composed a haiku that synthesized his allegiances to Buddhism, Tokugawa rule, national unity, and poetry (p. 33).

O holy, hallowed shrine!
How green all the fresh young leaves
In thy bright sun shine!

We can put the synthesis together in the following way. In the passage in which this poem appears, Basho had just praised Tokugawa rule as the sun. The name of the temple at Mt. Nikko meant "sun" and "light". The season of the year was spring. Basho himself sponsored a new form of haiku. It was a cultural springtime in Japan - a new beginning in politics, religion, and poetry. Basho's purpose was to promote the new cultural era.

On his travels, he met or referenced the poets*: Saigyo, Taira-no-Kanemori, Noin, Minamoto Yorimasa, Tokyu, Fujiwara-no-Sanekata, Kyohaku, Kaemon, Sodo, Hara Anteki, Zushi Sakichi (a disciple), Gyoson, Issho (a disciple), Teishitsu, Rotsu (a disciple). This was quite a literary retinue. Basho cited them as proof, so to speak, of the poetic renaissance now dawning in Japan.

When visiting Oishida, he had the opportunity to explain his new form of haiku to the villagers. One purpose of his travel was clear (p. 62).

The seed of the old-fashioned haikai linked verse had once been sown here [Oishida], and the people still practiced that style of verse, in love with it and unable to forget the days of its flowering. Their muse was as rustic as the sound of a reed pipe, and they trod the path of poetry with faltering step, hesitating at the crossroads, not knowing which way to take--the old or the new. They needed someone to guide them, so I left them a set of linked verse.

Who would have thought that on this, my own poetic pilgrimage, I would also be spreading abroad the Basho style!

Of course, humility masks his purpose.

I do not know nearly enough to offer a technical analysis of the relationship between poetic form and content and Basho's political loyalties and cultural ambitions. His general agenda, as I have discussed, seems clear enough on the surface of his narrative.

We have one more theme in Basho's travels to discuss - landscape; then we can ask how we might interpret Basho's narrative as a template for understanding Southern California.

* Again, I apologize for not using accents for the English characters.

Basho (3) Fears and Sadness

Far Frontier

The title of Basho's journal appears in the journal's text. In a passage describing the arrival of Basho and his companion at a memorial stone at the village of Ichikawa, about 400 miles north of Tokyo, Basho wrote:

"Using Kaemon's drawings as our guide, we found ourselves on a road called Oku-no-Hosomichi, 'The Narrow Road to a Far Province,' which wound along the foot of some hills.(P. 49.)"

A passage follows about the Tsubo Stone:

"The Tsubo Stone stands on the site of Taga Castle in the village of Ichikawa. The stone is over six feet high and about three feet wide. It was covered with moss, and the inscription was difficult to read. After giving the mileage of the provincial boundaries, it stated: "This castle was built in the First Year of Jinki [724] by General Azuma-Udo, Lord of Ono, who was sent to the Northern Provinces by his Majesty. It was repaired in the Six Year of Tempyo-hoji [762] by Imperial Councillor, General Asakari, Lord of Emi, Governor of the Northeastern Provinces. The first day of the Fifth Moon.(Pp. 49-50.)"

I have seen different translations of the title of Basho's published journal. Instead of "Far Province," other translators have used "Deep North" and "Far Frontier." At least to an English reader (unfamiliar with much of the literature and traditions referenced by Basho), the notion of a frontier better conveys the description (and inscription) of the Tsubo Stone. Japan was once an empire only in name. Beyond the closely held imperial region around Tokyo, feudal controls fell apart and lawlessness (from an imperial point of view) frequently prevailed. The lands beyond the boundary of law were frontiers, familiar to English readers from the English history (Scotland) and the American West (the territories).

Basho was walking the historical northern boundaries dividing imperial law and order from frontier violence. As he reached each day's destination, he was reminded of the military struggles associated with it and the honorable deaths of warriors. These historical memories subliminally affect his psychology, for he worried about misadventure in mountains and feared some of his guides [" 'Something untoward always happens on this route,' said our guide with relief as he took his leave. 'I was indeed fortunate to have brought you through safely.' "(P. 60.)]

He made seven memorial references in the first half of the journal to military history:

"When I heard it was this very shrine whose deity was invoked by Yoichi of Nasu when he cried, 'Hachiman, O Guardian God of my native land!' as he aimed his desperate arrow at the fan suspended from the tossing enemy boat, my heart stirred within me."(P. 36.)

"One ancient hero, writes Kiyosuke, straightened his helmet as he passed this barrier and donned new robes."(P. 40.)

"It was upon this hill that the famous warriors' castle once stood. We were directed to the foot of the hill, where the sight of the foundation stones of the Great Gate moved us deeply....One did not have to travel to far-off China to see the 'Weeping Tomb,' for here, before this very stone, who could refrain from shedding tears?"(P.44)

" 'Where is the grave of the tenth-century poet, General of the Imperial Guard, Fujiwara-no-Sanekata?' we asked ... There we would find the road god's shrine before which Sanekata failed to dismount, and the grave where he was buried after being fatally thrown from his horse in consequence."(P. 46.)

[Of the Tsubo Stone, portions of the text about which I previously quoted, Basho wrote:] "This monument was made a thousand years ago and is a very real and vivid link with the past. Seeing it is one of the things that has made my trip worthwhile and one of the happiest moments of my life. Forgetting all the trials of the journey, I wept for sheer joy."(P. 50.)

"Yasuhira's stronghold stood beyond the Koromo Barrier in a strategic position to guard the entrance to Nambo Province and defend it against the Ainu tribesmen of the north."(P.56.)

"Chuzon-ji's two main halls, which I had heard about for so many years with wonder, were both open to public view. In the temple's Sutra Hall were the statues of the three great frontier generals, and in the Hall of Light were enshrined their coffins and the Buddhist images sacred to their spirits."(P. 57.)

When these references are put together, it is clear what Basho was doing. He was taking a tourist's tour of scenes of struggle in the establishment of imperial rule. He may be compared to an American tourist visiting Civil War battlefields and battlefield museums.

Basho repeatedly inculcated a ritualistic experience. He exposed himself to the horrors of the historical scene, complete with memories of victories and defeats. He was close enough to danger to feel it - perhaps a shudder or chill of fear - but safe. This exposure induced emotional turmoil - sadness often mentioned. Then he turned back, to view from behind the waterfall, to reference one of his primary metaphors, the expanse of territory now under the rule emanating from the Imperial Capital. This gesture brings relief, with the understanding that military might had brought civil order and moral right into alignment.

Basho (2) Behind the Waterfall

Reading Basho's Narrow Road to a Far Province (1694).

One of Basho's metaphors concerns a waterfall. On the fourth day of his journey, Basho visited Mt. Nikko, where he praised - as we discussed in the previous article - the Tokugawa reign for spreading security and peace throughout Japan. The waterfall was famous for the view provided from behind, looking out through the curtain of falling water. Here is Basho's description.

A mile or so up the mountain was a waterfall. The water seemed to take a flying leap and drop a hundred feet from the top of the cave into a green pool surrounded by a thousand rocks. One was supposed to sidle into the cave and enjoy the falls from behind, hence its name Urami-no-Taki, "the Waterfall Viewed from Behind."

There we did begin,
Cloistered in that waterfall,
Our summer discipline.

The waterfall offers several religous and political metaphors upon which Basho draws thematically throughout his story. First, viewing the waterfall from behind epitomized Buddhist doctrine. According to the Buddha, human life is suffering; but the suffering can be escaped by abandoning sensual and material desires. The waterfall symbolizes the ever-changing stream of phenomenological experience derived from the incessant activity of our bodily senses and physical needs. To begin our journey to peace, we must go behind the stream of experience. Since the waterfall is a veil, the imagery references a fundamental quest for the Buddhist: Go behind the veil.

Basho's haiku expresses another Buddhist theme. Buddhism was a missionary religion, which involves going out into the world. It also valued monastic withdrawal from the world. The monasteries were cloisters where disciples learned a strict routine of prayer, hence, discipline. The monasteries sought and represented the high value purity of not desiring anything, separating from worldly obsessions.

The waterfall also provided a political metaphor. By unifying Japan, the Tokugawa reign enabled travellers, such as Basho, to pass through the boundaries and barriers that had previously divided Japan into its feudal territories. Those boundaries were symbols, like the waterfall, of the suffering and transitory cravings created by zealous pursuit of worldly goods, i.e., feudal quest for power that divided the nation. When the traveller went beyond the old boundary, he could turn around and look back through it. The view back would be analogous to viewing the waterfall from behind.

Crossing the boundary and looking back through it becomes Basho's template for organizing ideas, values, and historical knowledge. The template unifies behavior, spiritual values, and political allegiances in a ritualized gesture of going through a limit and turning around to look back over the path and boundary. It implicitly glorifies Tokugawa rule, which made such travel and gestures possible at all. The gesture is fundamental to Basho's journey as a political apologia.

Basho (1) Journey As Politics

Political Enlightenment

I have long loved the prose-poem, Narrow Road to A Far Province (1694)*, by the Japanese master of haiku poetry, Basho. When in college, I read collections of translated haiku, in which Basho was well represented; but it was not until I moved to Southern California that I read his great travel story.

Of course, most of Basho's dense narrative and little gems of poetry are lost to me, since I must read them in English translation, with little knowledge of Japanese history and poetry. What I could get out of the tale, nonetheless, stimulated in me a fanciful notion. Could I read Southern California, uniting pilgrimage, our history, and regional art, through Basho's tale? What would Southern California, as a historical civilization, look like if I tried to view it through the template of Basho's literary scheme? Would this exercise be simply and completely artificial? Basho's story as literature seemingly would not be translatable or transferable to Southern California, the antipode of Basho's world. After all, of all literary forms, poetry, relying on the spoken language, translates most poorly.

Let's see what template is available in Basho's tale of his journey. English sources tell us little about the poet. Basho (1644-1694) was originally a samurai warrior who fought for a feudal lord. His lord died in 1666. Basho renounced his warrior status and moved to Edo (Tokyo), the capital city, to devote himself to poetry and Buddhism. Undoubtedly this happened, but notice that it is parallel to the story of the Buddha himself. Buddha was born into the warrior caste. He eventually renounced warfare and his status to devote himself to his religio-philosophical teachings. Basho was therefore fitting himself into a religious literary convention.

We should also notice the timing of Basho's decision to abandon his samurai sword. His decision came at the end of a long feudal period (to use the European term) in Japanese history, in which the island was divided up among warring lords. The family of Ieyasu Tokugawa eventually (1600) subdued rival kingdoms. Ieyasu Tokugawa was appointed (1603) shogun by the emperor (a titular ruler), with responsibility to maintain peace in the nation. Within twenty years, the power of the remaining feudal lords was completely broken. The Tokugawa period thus initiated an era of national unity and civil peace. Relinquishing his sword symbolized Basho's subservience to the new national power.

Basho certainly understood what it meant to be in a new political order. Is it possible that Basho's poetry was not simply a contribution to Japan's literary tradition, but also a political statement? I have not read many literary histories of Basho's Narrow Road to A Far Province. The histories I have read ignore the political point of Basho's journey, his poetry, and his tale; but Basho did not try to hide his political point.

Early in his journey, he visited Mount Nikko, the site of a famous temple. He was filled with awe by the mountain beauty and its religious center. He wrote:

In olden times, the name of this mountain was written "Ni-ko," using the Chinese characters for "two" and "wild," but when Saint Kukai built a temple here, he changed the characters to "Nik-ko," meaning "sun" and "light." He must have foreseen what was to come a thousand years later, for now the august light of the Tokugawa rule illumines the whole firmament, and its beneficent rays reach into every corner of the land so that all the people may live in security and peace.[*p. 33]

Among other matters, Tokugawa rule meant that a religious pilgrim could safely journey to any shrine anywhere on the island. Free worship of Buddhism became a benefit of the new political order and its exercise in turn supported national political power. I read Basho's tale as a masked political apologia. As we shall see in Basho's discussion of "behind the falling water," in the next article, Basho veiled his political purpose behind descriptions that are metaphors.

As a political apologia, Narrow Road to a Far Province has much to say to any political society - and certainly Southern California is that - apart from its difficult-to-translate poems. Maybe it would not be so far-fetched to read our region through Basho's prose story of poetry and pilgrimage.

* A Haiku Journey: Basho's "Narrow Road to a Far Province," translated and introduced by Dorothy Britton, revised edition ([1974]Toyko and New York: Kodansha International, 1980). Non-English characters are printed in English form; apologies.