Notes on Chiyo-ni from Three Simple Lines: A Writer’s Pilgrimage into the Heart and Homeland of Haiku By Natalie Goldberg

Natalie Goldberg is known for her exemplary book, Writing down the Bones. A haiku (short form of poetry born in Japan) and Buddhism practitioner, Natalie’s language is layered with kindness. She travels to Osaka, Japan, to meet with the greats of Haiku: Basho, Shiki, Buson and Issa -  15th-18th century haiku masters whose graves and stories await Natalie. 

Along with the four great Haiku masters, Natalie also explores the lesser known woman haiku writer, Chiyo-ni. Here are a few notes from this book, which moved me.

I have a vague memory that, years ago, right before I left for Japan for the first time in 1998, I bought a book called Chiyo-ni: Woman Haiku Master, edited by Patricia Donegan and Yoshie Ishibashi. But I dashed off on my travels and never read it.

I open it now and see that the two editors signed it and even added an inscription: “For Natalie. In appreciation of a fellow writer.” I turn the page, read further: “Chiyo-ni was born in 1703, seven years after Basho’s death. For decades she was considered equal to and the counterpart of Basho. More importantly, she was known and respected because she lived the Way of Haiku: aware and open to every moment.”

She was born in the small town of Matto, far in the north, with harsh winters that attuned her to seasonal changes. A Buddhist temple was nearby, with the ringing bells always in her ears. She wrote her first haiku at 6 and 7 years old. Stopping in the midst of play in a rice field, she gazed up at the birds in the autumn sky:

the first wild geese
coming
still coming

She was recognized for her early talent, and she had the opportunity to study with haiku masters. One of them, Shiko, stayed the night at her house, and in the morning he asked her to write a haiku on the iris:

Spring
remains
in the iris

Shiko also wrote one for Chiyo-ni as he looked at the flower arrangement in the family alcove:

no regret
to use the hibiscus’s shadow
as a rain shelter

Though Shiko and Chiyo-ni met only that one time, they wrote letters to each other. She often asked him to comment on and improve her haiku. When he died, she wrote:

sad, so sad
to miss the plum flower
before it fell

She became famous for her haiku—and her beauty. Yet Buson, who began the Basho revival during Chiyo-ni’s lifetime, denied her, calling her work “woman’s haiku, weak and emotional.”

Eventually, though, Buson couldn’t ignore her. He even asked her to write the introduction to his poetry collection, which was a great honor.

It is not clear that Chiyo-ni ever married, though some of her haiku show experience with romance and sensuality:

what shadow
can the star lovers meet in
before the moon disappears

till his hat
fades into a butterfly
I yearned for him

woman’s desire
deeply rooted—
the wild violets

eventually
whose skin will they touch—
rouge flowers

change of kimono:
showing only her back
to the blossom’s fragrance

She continued to study with other haiku masters. Though she was well-known, she stayed humble, often asking younger poets, even twenty years younger, for their critiques.

At one meeting of haiku poets in Kyoto, where she was the only woman in attendance, she surprised everyone by writing the best haiku about the full moon—conveying the impression of a full moon without mentioning it:

this evening!
since the crescent moon
I’ve been waiting

When she was in her thirties, a succession of tragedies wiped out her family, leaving her alone to manage their scroll-making business. Because of this, she couldn’t fully devote herself to writing haiku again until she was 50.

At 52 she became a nun, but she did not live in a temple, as conventional nuns did. She lived at home but with the status of a nun, which gave her a certain freedom—and the rare privilege as a single woman to travel, meet male poets, and not be restricted by the normal social codes imposed on women.

She wrote her best haiku during this time. She wrote with prostitutes; created collaborative art with samurai; and wrote haiku as gifts for foreign visitors. Much of her work celebrates everyday life outside the temple—yet she never lost sight of what is sometimes called sad beauty: the understanding and acceptance of impermanence, that everything is transient.

clear water:
no front
no back

anyway
leave it to the wind—
pampas grass

She often painted illustrations of her haiku on the same sheets of paper, in a practice known as haiga, or haiku painting. In addition, she painted portraits, including one of Chigetsu, the most prominent woman disciple of Basho and a haijin—a master haiku poet living the Way of Haiku.

Artwork: Utagawa Kunisada / Toyokuni III, Legends of Women of All Ages: Portrait Of Chiyo-ni (1863), Oban, from Toshidama Gallery.

 
Courtesy: Tricycle dot org