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When your consciousness has become ripe in true zazen-pure like clear water, like a serene mountain lake, not moved by any wind-then anything may serve as a medium for realization.
Matsuo Basho
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Matsuo Basho
Age: 50 †
Born: 1644
Born: January 1
Died: 1694
Died: November 28
Artist
Poet
Writer
Vaxjo
Matsuo Basho
Bashō
Bashô
Basho
Matsuo Bashou
True
Serve
Become
Mountain
Serene
Anything
Moved
Lake
May
Pure
Ripe
Like
Wind
Lakes
Consciousness
Medium
Clear
Mediums
Water
Realization
More quotes by Matsuo Basho
Clapping my hands with the echoes the summer moon begins to dawn.
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The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
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Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
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My body, now close to fifty years of age, has become an old tree that bears bitter peaches, a snail which has lost its shell, a bagworm separated from its bag it drifts with the winds and clouds that know no destination. Morning and night I have eaten traveler's fare, and have held out for alms a pilgrim's wallet.
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The desire to break the silence with constant human noise is, I believe, precisely an avoidance of the sacred terror of that divine encounter.
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A flute with no holes is not a flute.
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All my friends / viewing the moon – / an ugly bunch.
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Come, butterfly It's late- We've miles to go together.
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The basis of art is change in the universe.
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The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
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When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
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A weathered skeleton in windy fields of memory, piercing like a knife.
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Sabi is the color of haikai. It is different from tranquility. For example, if an old man dresses up in armor and helmet and goes to the battlefield, or in colorful brocade kimono, attending (his lord) at a banquet, [sabi] is like this old figure.
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Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.
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A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
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When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
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Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
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The fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, I shall be unhappy without loneliness, shows that he made loneliness his master.
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Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
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Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise. Seek what they sought.
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