Frog jumps in
The sound of water
THIS IS ONE of the most famous haiku by Matsuo Baso. It has that special flavor that only awakened people are aware of. Its beauty is not only aesthetic but existential. Its fragrance is that of Buddhahood.
Tao simply means that which is, with no qualification, with no adjective. Tao means: just so.
The old pond
Frog jumps in
The sound of water
Haiku is not ordinary poetry. The ordinary poetry is of imagination. The ordinary poetry is a creation of the mind. Haiku simply reflects that which is. Consciousness becomes a mirror and reflects that which confronts it. The mirror remains untouched by what it reflects. An ugly person passes before I mirror -- the mirror does not become ugly, the mirror remains in its sameness. A beautiful person passes by, the mirror does not become beautiful either. And when there is nobody to reflect, the mirror is still the same. Reflecting, not reflecting, reflecting good, reflecting bad, the mirror remains virgin.
So is the consciousness of one who has awakened.
Baso was a disciple of the Zen Master, Buko. The time this incredibly beautiful haiku was born, he was living in a small hut by the side of an old pond. One day, after a brief rain, Master Buko visited Baso and asked, "How is your understanding these days?"
Remember, the Master has not asked, "How is your knowledge?" He has asked, "How is your understanding?"
Understanding is totally different from knowledge. Knowledge is borrowed, understanding is one's own. Knowledge comes from without, understanding wells up within. Knowledge is ugly, because it is secondhand. And knowledge can never become part of your being. It will remain alien, it will remain foreign, it cannot get roots into you. Understanding grows out of you, it is your own flowering. It is authentically yours, hence it has beauty, and it liberates.
Truth can never be borrowed from anybody, and the borrowed truth is no longer truth. A borrowed truth is already a lie. The moment truth is said, it becomes a lie. Truth has to be experienced, not to be heard, not to be read. Truth is not just going to be a part of your accumulation, part of your memory. Truth has to be existential: each pore of your being should feel it. Yes, it has to be a feeling. Each breath should be full of it. It should pulsate in you, it should circulate in you like your blood. When truth is understood, you become it.
Hence the Master Buko asked his disciple, "Baso, how is your understanding these days?" And don't forget those two beautiful words, 'these days'.
Truth is always growing. Truth is a movement. It is not static, it is dynamic. It is a dance. It is like growing trees and flowing rivers and moving stars. Truth is never, at any point, a static phenomenon. It is not stasis; it is utterly dynamic, it is movement. To be alive it has to be moving.
Only death is static, only death is stagnant. Hence the people who are dead may look alive on the surface, but if their truth is no longer growing they are dead. Their soul is no longer growing. Truth is not an idea but your very being, your very soul.
Hence the Master asked, "How is your understanding THESE days?" He is not asking about the past. Knowledge is always about the past, imagination is always about the future. He is asking about the present, he is asking about the immediate.
Baso responded,
Rain has passed
Green moss moistened.
Just a few moments before, it was raining: the rain has passed, green moss moistened. It is good, but not VERY good. It is already past. It is no longer immediate. It is a memory already, it is no longer experiencing. Buko was not contented -- the answer was good but not great. And a Master is never contented unless the answer is absolute, unless the answer is really as it should be -- and certainly not with the potential of a man like Baso.
Now nobody knows about Buko, his Master. He is known only because of Baso. The disciple had infinite potential; the Master cannot be contented so easily. Remember it! -- the more potential you have, the more you will be put to hard tasks. The Master will be severe with you. He is going to be very hard on you.
The answer was good if it had come from somebody of lesser potential than Baso; the Master might have nodded his head in consent -- but not to Baso. Even a few minutes' gap is gap enough. The rain is no more there, the clouds have dispersed, it is already sunny, the sun is shining all around, on the old pond, on the hut....
He said, "Say something more!"
And when the Master says, "Say something more," he does not mean talk a little more about it. He does not mean 'more' in a quantitative sense. He means: say something deeper, say something more intense, say something more existential. say something more, qualitatively!
At that instant Baso heard the plop of a frog jumping into the pond.
He said,
Frog jumps in
The sound of water
Now, this is Tao: the immediate, that which is, alive, throbbing, this very moment. Tao knows no past, no future. Tao knows only one kind of time, that is present. Tao knows only herenow. Just let your mind disappear and then there is no past and no future. Past and future are mind creations. In reality, there is only present. And when there is no past, no future, how can you even call it present? -- because present has meaning only in reference to past and future.
