Savannah Block
Pre-College English
Hour 2
December 2, 2008
Matsuo Basho: National Geographic Article Response
In this day and age, it is very difficult to find simple things “enough.” I believe Howard
Norman is attempting to convey this daily struggle (finding our unostentatiousness moments) through
On the Poet’s Trail. He continues this description, providing us that Matsuo Basho’s most famous
work おくのほそ道, or “Narrow Road to a Far Province” is still alive in the hearts of Japanese
linguists and scholars today. Basho's younger years are an indication for a rough, or more
appropriately, lack there of, a childhood. Turning to literature and poems, Basho was able to find his
center. Norman is well aware of how difficult the twenty first century is. Not many people have the
opportunity to lose themselves in an activity that they find both relaxing and enjoyable. Norman
reiterates Basho's desire to participate in such extensive hiking trips:
“Basho lived a turbulent life in a changing Japan—his melancholy was an intensifying element in
much of his writing and an important part of what, in the end, propelled him on his journeys.”
Without the hardships Basho lived through as a child, there would be no drive for him to walk
these journeys. People that know what it is like to live a non-glitzy/non-glam life appreciate the littler
things in life that much more. They know what it is like to work for their measly income. They, most
importantly, understand how to value what they have. Seeing as majority of the United States (and
people reading Nat Geo) fall into middle-class, these people will be able to relate to Basho.
Maybe I am too much of a child of my time, but in my opinion, I do not think I could ever look
at nature one sixteenth the way Matsuo Basho did. Nature and I have never had the tightest
relationship to tell you the truth. With that said, my eyes are not blind to how beautiful the trees can be
(especially with all this wonderful snow!) My favorite excerpt from the reading had to be a quote from
Helen Tanizaki:
“He’s like a quirky philosopher tour-guide who pretty much leaves readers alone to experience
traveling in those remote places for themselves. Rather than trying to account for things, he just feels
the obligation to take note of them, a vast striving for connection.”
From what I learned in the reading, Tanizaki has hit the nail on the head, describing Basho as
one that does indeed take note of the beauties of nature, (although, such observations are more than
likely biased. He is after all a nature man.) but not to the extreme. Basho sounded like the type of guy
that would let you make your own assumptions. If you do not find what he finds beautiful, he would
not force his beliefs down your throat. I believe this behavior is exactly what makes the “Master of
Haiku” so appealing. People appreciate others that appreciate. I certainly do.

Block 2
In this photo, taken by Michael Yamashita, my awe and stupor is not caused by the butterfly
itself, but that another human being can look at this creature and be filled with the exuberance and
gratification that Matsuo was most likely accustom to feeling. Being an avid photographer myself,
capturing nature in its most raw form is not the easiest to master. Looking at the photograph, I take the
dimensions of a picture into consideration, along with the resolution. With this high of definition, my
thoughts wonder about the camera itself. My brain works backwards in that fashion, not entirely
focusing to what the actual picture is, but what comes from the camera itself. Aside from the techical
photography jargon, the photo as a whole is a very beautiful subject. From how dainty the butterfly
looks, to the deep blue-violet color of the flower, such a picture oozes elegance. The question, “How
many photos did Yamashita take of this butterfly.” suddenly popped into my head. Following was the
attempting to grasp that Basho could simply look at this butterfly for a second, and its memory could
very well be remembered forever.