There was once a great Japanese poet named Basho. He was a very bright young man, and as a serious Buddhist he had studied many sutras. He thought that he understood Buddhism. One day he paid a visit to Zen Master Takuan. They talked for a long time. The master would say something and Basho would respond at length, quoting from the most profound and difficult sutras. Finally, the master said, "You are a great Buddhist, a great man. You understand everything. But in all the time we have been talking, you have only used the words of the Buddha or of eminent teachers. I do not want to hear other people's words. I want to hear your own words, the words of your true self. Quickly now -- give me one sentence of your own." Basho was speechless. His mind raced. "What can I say? My own words -- what can they be?" One minute passed, then two, then ten. Then the master said, "I thought you understood Buddhism. Why can't you answer me?" Basho's face turned red. His mind stopped short. It could not move left or right, forward or back. It was up against an impenetrable wall. Then, only vast emptiness.
Suddenly there was a sound in the monastery garden. Basho turned to the master and said,
Still pond
a frog jumps in
the splash
The master laughed out loud and said, "Well now! These are the words of your true self;" Basho laughed too. He had attained enlightenment.
Later on, he went to Matsushima, one of the most beautiful places in Japan, where a poetry contest was being held. Poets from all over the country were there; Everyone wrote in praise of the extraordinary loveliness of the countryside, the majestic snow-capped peaks of Mt. Fuji, the brilliant mirror surface of the lake, the sailboats flying across the water like great white birds, etc., etc. Basho's winning poem was this:
O Matsushima!
O Matsushima!
O Matsushima!
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