By Dan King
Analysis of Zen Buddhism ideas in Japanese art is tricky business. By over-analysis, you are destroying the Zenness of the art form. Part of Zen in art is taking the responsibility of interpretation away from the artist and put
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Portrait of  by Hokusai |
Any look at Zen and the art of haiku must first examine Zen Buddhism in Japan. Japanese Zen Buddhism has three primary characteristics:
- Trying to be perfect will create suffering
- Accept change -- nature changes and is constantly in motion
- Don’t get attached to goals
There is a Zen story from China that describes the difficulty of describing Zen and therefore, Zen art, in words. A Zen monk met three traveling Buddhist monks on a bridge crossing a river. One of the traveling monks asked the Zen monk, "How deep is the river of Zen?" The Zen monk replied, "Find out for yourself," offering to throw him over the bridge and into the river. The two other monks interceded and stopped the Zen monk from tossing the traveling monk over the side of the bridge. (Suzuki, 5) The idea is that Zen is not necessarily opposed to words, but that words can be used to conceptualize, and Zen opposes conceptualization.
The Japanese took to Zen Buddhism when it was introduced from China late in the 12th Century because of its subtlety and meditative qualities. Since Zen can’t be conceptualized, much of the Zen influence in Japan is displayed through their art forms. Many of these art forms flourished during the Tokugawa period, when Japan turned to isolationism. It’s interesting to note the difference between Zen Buddhism in China and Japan. In China, Zen got mixed with Taoism, Confucian and even Western spirituality to become a spiritual teaching, while in Japan, Zen became a cultural phenomenon, integrating with many aspects of Japanese culture, but none more significantly than Japanese art. Japan encouraged Zen art forms such as sumie (brush painting,) Noh drama, ikebana (flower arraignment,) roji (tea gardens,) the martial arts and haiku poetry.
Matsuo 
, who lived in 17th Century Japan and revolutionized the art of haiku, wrote one of the most famous poems:
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It is such a simple poem, yet it touches all of the five senses to various degrees. Reading the poem, you can:
- See the ripples on the calm pond
- Hear the sound of the frogs hitting the water
- Feel the warmth in the summer air
- Smell the moss on the old pond
- Taste the humidity and the salt from your own sweat on the warm summer day.
It is through the simplicity of the poem that the reader is left to imagine the frog(s) jumping into the pond -- using all five senses to come up with their own feeling.
Daisetz T. Suzuki claims that this poem is a story of time and eternity. He writes, "The old pond corresponds to ‘An eternity of endless space’ while the frog jumping in and causing the water to utter a sound is equivalent to ‘a day of wind and moon.’ Can there be a more beautiful experience than to catch ageless silence breaking for the first time into song?" (Wu, 221)
But that is only Suzuki’s interpretation. Since haiku is only a picture, and pictures should be interpreted with the viewer’s feelings and experiences, others could get a completely different interpretation of the poem.
When I first read this haiku I reflected on my own experience many years ago that was eerily similar to this poem. I was at one time a golfer. I was a very goal driven golfer, always trying to improve, but losing much of the joy of golf I had when I was younger. If my golf didn’t reach some pre-determined expectations I would leave the golf course unhappy, almost regretful that I even played that day. More often than not golf ceased being a game and started to feel like a job. I’d often heard an old saying attributed to the early 20th Century golfer, Walter Hagen, "Don't hurry. Don't worry. You're only here in a short visit so don't forget to stop and smell the flowers." I never understood the concept. I loved to play fast and I was a champion worrier. Besides I never really believed flowers belonged on a golf course.
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| No. 17 at Stevinson Ranch -- Hawk Perch |
One hot summer day I was out playing with some companions on a golf course out in the valley. I had been playing well but had butchered the 13th hole, making me feel like the playing of the previous 12 holes had been a waste of my time. On the 13th hole I hit a ball toward a water hazard, but miraculously the ball took two skips across the water and finished on the other side of the hazard. As I walked around this pond I’d constantly hear the small frogs jumping into the pond ahead of my steps. I never saw the frogs; I’d only hear the splash and see the ripples. For some reason, at that moment I realized how lucky I was to be out in nature, smelling the old pond, hearing the sound of the water and seeing the ripples on the surface. I assumed it struck me because of our different views of the pond -- myself seeing it as a hazard to be avoided, they're seeing it as a refuge, a place of safety. The old pond was no longer just a water hazard, trying to grab my golf ball; it was now a refuge to hundreds of small frogs. I realized I didn’t need to be so goal orientated and I could love golf because of its imperfections. While golfing I needed to get back in touch with the beautiful surroundings and all those that saw the environment of the course as something other than an opponent to be conquered.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but these were very Zen ideas I came to entirely by accident that warm summer day, and my method of golf has become more Zen like with each passing season. I now rarely take many implements to golf, enjoy the search for lost balls as much as the game, and always "stop to smell the flowers."
That was my experience with ’s famous poem. When I read this poem that life changing experience on that summer day came flooding back to me. It isn’t anything I could share with other readers, they need to relate it to their own experience. It’s strange that my frog experience also included frogs and an old pond, but for others it might not be frogs, perhaps it would be some other creature and some other experience. Both and Hagen did get to the essence of Zen that we need to appreciate the small things and leave the bigger picture to care for itself.
There is another haiku, humorously written by Sengai a half century after that is the frog’s soliloquy to :
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