Great Fool: Zen Master Ryōkan; Poems, Letters, and Other Writings

A Poetics of Mendicancy: Nondualist Philosophy and Ryōkan’s Figurative Strategies

23 A Poetics of Mendicancy Nondualist Philosophy and Ryòkan’s Figurative Strategies Ryûichi Abé Who says that my poems are poems? My poems aren’t poems at all When you understand That my poems really aren’t poems Then we can talk poetry together Ryòkan “Text means Tissue,” writes Roland Barthes, “but whereas hitherto we have always taken this tissue as a product, a ready-made veil, behind which lies, more or less hidden, meaning (truth), we are now emphasizing, in the tissue, the generative idea that the text is made, is worked out in a perpetual interweaving.”1 Barthes’ proposal to understand text as the topos of incessant semantic production—rather than as the representation of fixed meanings outside of it—speaks eloquently of the seminal shift of emphasis in contemporary philosophical and literary theories in their approach to studying text. Such a reminder, however, seems unnecessary for Ryòkan, who, more than a century earlier than Barthes, articulated as follows the essentials of waka, the traditional Japanese poetry composed in the native kana syllabary , consisting of forty-eight characters. Weaving the countless Varying tinges of texture Are the forty-eight phonetic letters Weaving them with their voices And echoes, the warp and woof2 The ever-changing shades of color in his poetry have captivated its readers, who return to it time and again, discovering something new with each rereading. It is probably because of the poet’s emphasis on such dynamic, generative aspects of poetic composition over conventional rhetorical regulations that his poems have been eagerly studied 24 ESSAYS and eulogized by many of the twentieth-century poets who have radically transformed the Japanese poetic tradition: Masaoka Shiki (1867– 1902), Itò Sachio (1864–1913), Saitò Mokichi (1882–1953), Hagiwara Sakutarò (1886–1942), and Aizu Yaichi (1881–1956), to name only a few. In one of his collected essays, the prominent Japanese critic Karaki Junzò relates that, following the death of his famed mentor, the Kyoto school philosopher Tanabe Hajime (1885–1962), he discovered in a drawer of his late teacher’s desk sheets of paper on which Tanabe had copied out thirty times a poem composed by Ryòkan.3 Each character of the poem, each stroke of the characters, Karaki recalls, was inscribed by Tanabe with the utmost care as if to emulate Ryòkan’s original style of calligraphy. As Karaki’s experience shows, Ryòkan is also highly acclaimed for his mastery of calligraphy. Already during his lifetime Ryòkan’s brushwork, as much as his poetry, was widely admired. Even ordinary villagers pursued Ryòkan to obtain his calligraphy;4 among the literati, Ryòkan’s repute spread beyond his own locale to the capital of Edo;5 and counterfeits of his works even began to circulate among connoisseurs.6 It appears, however, that Ryòkan himself did not enjoy his fame either as a calligrapher or as a poet. Kera Yoshishige (1810–1859), the village chief of Makigahana, who in his childhood had been one of Ryòkan’s regular playing companions on his daily begging rounds, reports: “When anyone asked the Master for a sample of his calligraphy, the Master would say: ‘After I practice and become good at it, I’ll write something for you.’ At other times, in the grip of inspiration, he would toss off one sheet of calligraphy after another. He never complained about the quality of his materials. The Master would write his poems from memory, and that’s why there were sometimes missing characters and some small variations in wording , so that there is no definitive version of his poems.”7 In a poem comically titled “Inspiration,” Ryòkan complains: Shaving my head, becoming a monk I spent years on the road pushing aside wild grasses peering hard into the wind Now, everywhere I go people just hand me paper and brush: “Do some calligraphy!” “Write me a poem!”8 Suzuki Bundai, a Confucian teacher who was a friend of Ryòkan’s and himself a poet, recalled in 1849: “He [Ryòkan] once said, ‘There A Poetics of Mendicancy 25 are three things I detest: professional calligraphers’ calligraphy; professional poets’ poems; and professional cooks’ food.’”9 Bundai’s statement suggests that Ryòkan did not wish to be recognized merely as a calligrapher or a poet. Just as Ryòkan is unique among eminent poets, his poems are renowned for...