The Sound of Stillness: When Silence Speaks the Loudest
In a world that rarely pauses, Basho’s timeless haiku reminds us that even in stillness, there is a sound that carves deep into our being.
Stillness
Matsou Basho
stillness—
the cicada’s cry
drills into the rocks
Reflection:
In just a few syllables, Basho delivers a universe. The poem opens with stillness—an invitation into quietude, perhaps even peace. But quickly, that stillness is pierced by the persistent cry of the cicada, not soft or subtle, but so powerful it seems to drill into rocks. Here, silence isn’t an absence of sound but a canvas that magnifies every sensation. The cicada becomes a metaphor for time, memory, or even sorrow—relentless and sharp, echoing into the heart of our still moments. What we often call silence is rarely truly silent; it is filled with echoes of life, emotion, and presence. Basho’s poem doesn’t let us rest in stillness—it asks us to feel what lies beneath it.
Questions for Deeper Reflection:
- What emotions or memories does the image of the cicada’s cry evoke in your own moments of stillness?
- How does your experience of silence change when it is interrupted by nature or emotion?
- In what ways can something persistent—like the cry of a cicada—serve as a guide or a teacher in your life?