A reflection by brother Toby
When my children were quite young we started reading haiku. From time to time we would sit around writing poems, more or less following the guidelines of seventeen syllables, three lines, reflecting the seasons and trying to avoid the temptation to be clever. One day David, my then young son, was struggling with the use of a pine tree in a haiku. I remembered the great poet Basho’s (1644-1694) advice.
If you want to know about the pine tree - go to the pine tree!
And that is what we did. David’s ideas about “pine” changed as he pulled back the branches and stuck his face near the trunk of a specific tree. This was the beginning of our “haiku walks.” We quietly stroll outside looking for little moments which could be the basis of a poem. It is rare that any of us actually write a poem. The walks become valuable experiences in themselves - as if we are reading haiku in nature.
We begin by walking quietly into the garden or a meadow behind the house. When one of us finds something interesting he or she will, in very few words, point it out. It is exciting to go over familiar ground and find something unexpected. We have see, really seen, frosty spider webs reflecting the sunlight, the first squash blossoms unfolding, plum petals dropping on the amazed cat, bees on the rosemary, tall trees going in and out of view in the mist, a little bird on a frozen woodpile, orange butterflies circling the chapel, and many, many ordinary things in an extraordinary way.
We come back from a haiku walk loaded with tales and an occasional poem, to share with others. We also come back from these walks refreshed and more confident about living on this planet. The kids probably do not need that renewal and trust as much as I do but we can all broaden our out look by looking down.
“Here in my old house,” as the poet Issa wrote, “I see the face of God/in the face of a snail.”
To learn more about haiku go to HAIKU WRITING.
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