Something Fishy about Haiku
________________________
Jane Reichhold
Today a neighbor came by bringing us some fresh fish he had caught on
his most recent boat trip. As we thanked him, he spread his arms saying,
"They are not from me; they only come through me." At that moment I
realized a similarity between fish and haiku.
Nowadays, if Mom
doesn't ever serve fish for dinner at least the kids get a taste of
haiku in grade school. For most of us, our first introduction came from
reading translations from the Japanese which is a bit like comparing
sushi to frozen fish sticks. Even with the knowledge of the exotic, most
poets remain solidly with the meat and potatoes of English literature.
It often isn't until we get older that we accept the simple goodness and
benefits of fish, adding them to the menu a little more often; maybe
even buying a book.
Having acquired a taste for fish, having
learned how to cook and serve them, one is better able to read and
appreciate the short, succinct form of haiku. Like fishing, haiku
writing can be done with minimal equipment. A pin or a pen, a scrap of
paper or willow rod can suffice, but it is tempting to go all out;
buying a rod and reel, tackle box full of lures (even studying Zen to
visit a monastery or take a trip to Japan). With that comes the fancy
brush pen and chops, the blank-page books bound in leather. If one goes
in for deep sea fishing or the commercial aspects, a computer and laser
printer are soon on the list of must have.
Like fishing, to
catch haiku you have to go where they are. Unlike fish, haiku are
everywhere. Still, you have to know the secret places out in plain sight
where they hide and how to get there quickly and quietly. Wearing old
comfortable clothes (usually thought of as "mind set" or a meditative
state, which is easier to get into than waders) we look around just
where we are. It does little good to only read of fishing off the coast
of Japan when sitting beside the lake by our own front door.It does help
to know which fish are edible and not. There are two ways of finding
out this information. We can either eat everything we catch or publish
what feels right, or send it off to editors for comment. Or we can read
books containing others' experiences while making up our minds about
what kind of fish to go for. Reading what the Old Masters of Japan
caught and ate, can give one incentive to appreciate even the smallest
sunfish, to pan-fry up a catch for a delicate feast.
As the
fisherman said, the haiku are not ours, but come through us. How we take
care of the ones we do keep is up to us. Do we gut them right away,
getting rid of the extra ands and me's and prepositions? Do we put them
immediately on ice by writing them down on something that won't go
through the laundry or end up in the wastepaper basket? It is also up to
us whether we eat all the fish ourselves or if we clean them up, label
them, and send them off to a magazine to share with others. If we catch a
really special one, we can enter it in the country fair or haiku
contest.
Some people simply flour and fry their fish, believing
that this one way is the only way to express a haiku moment. Others
study cookbooks and create dill sauces to blend the favors of a
sequence, barbecue recipes that smoke the fish and create mood haiku,
fish soup renga or hors d' oeuvre of one-word haiku. Other folks get
involved in arranging the serving platters. Long discussions have ensued
over whether lines should be centered, indented, all in one, three, in
caps or lower case, with or without parsley garnish. It usually comes
down to the fact that we become attached to one way of fixing our catch
and, unless we've been inspired by the taste of other's, tend to keep
serving them up in the same way which later is hailed as one's
individual voice.
For the dedicated fisherperson (a lot of
women write haiku, too) there are several magazines to which we can
subscribe. These are especially treasured in the off-months when one
can't get away long enough to drop a line into the pool of
unconsciousness, when all the ideas have dried up or are frozen over.
Reading of the success of others is often just the right incentive to
give us courage to get out there to try out a new lure or seek out a new
fishing hole.
Out on the public pier, the old guys kindly put
up with the youngsters who are constantly asking why they use that
weight line or why they whip their rod like than when that is hardly
what they are thinking about anymore. They've learned to smile gently
when beginners get tangled up their lines remembering their enthusiasm
not so long ago. Once we've caught all the fish our friends and family
can enjoy and still we are packing the notebook, there comes the time to
decide whether to go commercial with what had started out to be fun
hobby. This step demands decisions about how much can I afford to invest
this venture, will I make a living at it? Fishing: maybe <197>
haiku: hardly. Or do I do it because I love it? There are rewards other
than financial; ask the trout fisherman. At first it will cost more than
it brings in; the rule of most businesses. And, unless the name is
Ginsberg or Snyder, it will probably remain this way.
However,
in this way you meet a lot of interesting people, many who become great
friends, and what a thrill it is when the local restaurant, with a blare
of trumpets, serves your fish on their menu. The local paper may even
review your book.
Fortunately for haiku writers, their catch
doesn't get smelly if it gets mislaid in the trunk of the car and taking
a live fish off a hook is certainly different from scratching words on
paper but the thrill is very similar.
Books and notebooks are a
pleasant way to savor the thrill of the moment of pulling in the big
one, which not all that different from hanging the stuffed trophy fish
over the fireplace in the den. If we compare spending days on heaving
seas to fish or strolling on the beach writing haiku; it is very easy
for me to decide where my interest lies. Still I do love a fish dinner
and I hope my neighbor enjoys my latest poems.
________________________________________________________________________
OCEAN SANCTUARY
Poems of the sea gathered as a submission for someone wanting to do a book about the North Coast of California.
SMOOTHED BY SEAS
A NEARLY ROUND ROCK
POINTS HOMEWARD
SUNDAY MORNING
ALL THE WAVES IN WHITE
KNEELING ON THE BEACH
A WALL OF WATER
CURVES AND CRASHES
A WHALE
SURF ROLLS
POWER IN THE SAND
LOW-FLYING BIRDS
WHITE SURF
WANTING TO KEEP THE OCEAN FREE
OF OIL WELLS
AS PEOPLE CRY
THE OCEAN ROARS
"NO OIL WELLS!"
IN AND OUT
OF THE RIVER'S MOUTH
A TONGUE OF SEA
WHITE WITH FOAM
THE OCEAN ENTERS
THE RIVER'S MOUTH
ARCHING INTO THE SKY
THE WAVE LEAVES
MORE BLUE
A FULL MOON
RESTING ON HOAR-FROST MEADOWS
TUNDRA SWANS
ANCIENT CYPRESS
LEANING OVER THE LIGHT
AT SUNRISE
RIVER VALLEY
LETTING THE SUNRISE
INTO THE SEA
MORNING
A TOUCH OF SEA WAVES
THE MOON MELTS
Swaran Singh The extended simile has been very carefully done here. If I were in teaching any longer, I could use it as an example of figurative writing.
Gabi Greve Basho who, when asked for a death haiku by his friends (according to Harold Henderson) "refused, on the ground that
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