Transcripts
1. Class Intro & Welcome: The spring sky so clear that you feel you are seeing
into tomorrow. Summer grasses, all
that remains of great soldiers, imperial dreams. Now the swing is still, a suspended tire centers
the autumn moon. Simply I'm here,
simply snow falls. Our lives are made
of poetic moments. The question is, are we
awake to this poetry? My name is Dandan Liu and I am an Emmy Award
winning filmmaker, top teacher here on Skillshare and guide
for intentional living. Poetry forms the beating
heart of everything I create. One of its forms
in particular has a special place in
my heart, The Haiku. You probably learned in
grade school that a haiku is a three line poem to the
575 syllable structure. If you're interested
in writing poetry and maybe feeling a little
intimidated by it all, I think haiku is a
great place to start. It's simple, accessible,
and it trains you to build the foundational skills to write other more elaborate
forms of poetry. Haikus can hold so much depth. For seasoned writers or poets, haikus form a beautiful
opportunity for you to experiments and sharpen
your writer's knife. Haiku is a refuge when
the world seems chaotic, when you're feeling
lost, frightened, and nothing is clear. When I write haiku, I slow down and savor the
miracle of being alive. I feel like I'm
dancing with moments, not of time but of timelessness. In this class,
we'll be looking at exactly what makes a haiku, we'll looking at
all the depths and dimensions a haiku can
hold and transform, and we will learn how
to write our own haiku. The poet, Billy
Collins, once wrote. Today, I pass the time
reading a favorite Haiku, saying the words over and over. If feels like eating
the same small, perfect grapes again and again. Let's eat the small
perfect grapes together. I'll meet you in
the first lesson.
2. Class Assignment: Your class assignment is to share haiku on
the project's page featuring the season in
which you are currently in. Then share it on my Instagram
tagging me @dandanliustudio so I can share it
with my community. I'm running a special
competition now where I will be giving one annual Skillshare
membership to the winner if you post
by February 14, 2023 at 11:00 PM PST. Have fun and best wishes.
3. Journey Into the Spirit of Haiku: [MUSIC] Before we get
into the nuts and bolts of this poetic form, I'd first like to bring you
on a journey into the spirit of haiku for you to listen
to it's beating heart. I'm going to read some
of my most cherished haiku's which span a
wide and deep spectrum. I ask that you now
carve the space inside of you to
receive these poems. Haiku are short, so if
you're not paying attention, you're going to miss out on
the miracle hidden inside. To do this, it's very simple. Close your eyes and bring
your mind back to your body. Take a few deep breaths. [MUSIC] Peeling a pear, a trickle of sweet
juice along the blade. A train crashes past a butterfly still as stone on
the humid earth. [MUSIC] Calligraphy of geese against the sky
the moon seals it. [MUSIC] Hospital quiet I enter alone at twilight. The scent of lilacs. Woman's desire deeply
rooted, the wild violets. [MUSIC] Smooth cemetery stone, I run my fingers
over her lifetime. [MUSIC] News of his passing I walk my feet
through morning dew. [MUSIC] The boy on the swing surrounded by war
rubble does not swing at all. [MUSIC] Could this melody be sung in other
countries by other birds? [MUSIC] How did you feel when
you heard these poems? Did you notice how with
just a few words you really felt the full
emotion of the moment? The full emotion that would have been diluted with more words. If you'd like to read
this haikus again, I have included a
document called The Haiku Handbook inside
the Resources section with these poems
and their authors. I hope you can now see how
haiku can hold so much. It doesn't just
present what's pretty unpleasant as it's
usually associated with. But it can also hold the
pain, the deep, complex, contradictory emotions
that are hard for us to say but grace are
human experience.
4. Haiku Structure & Essential Elements: Now that you have felt
the spirit of haiku, let's talk about its structure. A haiku in its most
traditional form consists of three elements. The first element is
a 5-7-5 syllables, three-line structure. You probably learned
this in grade school. In its most traditional form, haiku is a three-line poem. The first line has words that
add up to five syllables. The second line has words that
add up to seven syllables. The third line has words that
add up to five syllables. For example, my
dear old village, every memory of home
pierces like a thorn. Now when it comes to syllables, a lot of people ask me, do I count certain consonants
like Ss for plural words? There's no agreement on
this in the haiku world so my answer is to
not worry about it. The spirit of your poem is
more important than the form which I will talk more
about in the next lesson. Later, we'll also use
examples of how modern haiku writers really
break the rules. The second element for
haiku is a season word, also known as kigo in Japanese. A season word is a word that is traditionally associated
with a season. Here are some examples
of season words. These anchor the
haiku and orient us to the time and space of the
moment you're writing about. What's cool is that they are
passed down the generations. In fact, there are compilations of season words available. You can find a free one online, which I will link in a document
called the Haiku Handbook attached in the class
resources section. The third element of haiku
is the most mysterious one. The poet, Billy Collins calls this element a little
flash of illumination. It's a twist, what the
Japanese call haiku humor. Note that humor doesn't
necessarily mean funny. It's more of a direction
that wasn't expected. A surprise, or what
Alan Ginsburg calls a leap in the mind. It's a pivot that makes the poem more than the sum of its parts. Let's look at some
examples of this twist. Ancient meteor on
reaching the atmosphere makes light of itself
by Clark Strand. In this example, the twist
comes in the last line, makes light of itself. It's a play on the word light. Besides the light that's
made in contrast to darkness you also have this light that's in contrast
with heaviness. Here you have this meteor that's been traveling
for thousands of years and when it reaches
its destination, it's not a heavy occurrence, but a light one. Here's another example. The boy on the swing surrounded by war rabble does not swing
at all, by Vicky Wilson. There's nothing funny here. In fact, it's a very sad scene. But what the Japanese mean by haiku humor here is the twist. When you read the first
line of this haiku, you think it's going
to be a happy story. A swing is usually
a joyful thing. It's the first time young kids
discover unbridled motion. But then this haiku overturns this joyful expectation
with this war scene. Here's another example. This is a particularly
touching haiku for me because it is one written
from a Japanese poet, Buson, to honor his mentor and friend Bosho
after his passing. How beautiful is that writing a haiku dedicated to your
friend or your loved one? With the soundlessness of
winter rain on mosses, vanished days are remembered. Now, this doesn't match the 5-7-5 syllable
structure with its English translation
from the Japanese but it does
illustrate the twist. You have soundlessness
and vanished days, both empty elements. Yet through these empty
elements, things are preserved. Here's another
multi-layered example. In the summer sky, a cloud with its mouth open eats a smaller cloud,
by Billy Collins. This is a great example
of how a haiku can have multiple layers of meaning
tucked into its tiny body. Here, Billy is alluding to our Darwinian
struggle in life. He's saying how even in the sky, the big fish eats
the little fish. But here's another
twist, clouds. They are insubstantial
and light. So can our struggles in the
human realm be light as well? As the last example, here's one that always
lands deeply for me. News of his passing, I walk my feet through
morning dew, by Frank Hooven. Morning dew is something
that signifies freshness, a new beginning and yet
here he is contrasting that with news of someone's death. This contrast is what
creates this twist. I love this poem because
you can really feel the tactile sensation
of cold liquid wetness on your feet when
reading this poem. In summary, a traditional
haiku has three elements. A 5-7-5 syllable
three-line structure, a season word known as kigo, and a twist or pivot that causes a leap of the
mind for the reader.
5. Break Rules: Modern Haiku : [MUSIC] Now that we have learned what makes traditional haiku, I wanted to give you
some examples of more modern haiku
that break the rules. In fact, Clark Strand, a contemporary haiku poet said, "Haiku is whatever you
can get away with, with 17 syllables." As before, if your mind has
drifted off somewhere else, bring it back into
this fat moment. Close your eyes and bring
your mind back to your body. Take a few deep breaths. [MUSIC] Blossom to blossom. A bee tips the
fate of the world. [MUSIC] A year at most, we pretend to watch
the hummingbirds. [MUSIC] Nevertheless, fall colors. [MUSIC] Spring thaw, what I meant to tell her. [MUSIC] The heft of a cast iron skillet. Autumn deepens. [MUSIC] You can also find these poems in the haiku handbook in
the resources section. As you've just heard, all of these poems do not follow the traditional three-line
or 5-7-5 syllable structure. But they still produced
a leap of the mind. I hope these examples give
you a sense of permission that, yes, you can
break the rules if you feel like that
serves your haiku best.
6. Embrace the Spirit of Writing Haiku: [MUSIC] Now we're
going to transition from reading haiku
to writing haiku. But before we dive into the nuts and bolts of the
writing process, I wanted to talk about
the most important part, the spirit of writing haiku. When it comes to the
spirit of writing Haiku, in my opinion, there are four important
guiding principles. The first is releasing
the present moment. As you can already tell, writing haiku
requires mindfulness and is very much rooted
in the present moment, yet it's not an attachment
to the present, but a letting go of it. Haiku does not capture the
moment, but releases it. Haiku is not a moment of time, but a moment of timelessness. If you can embrace the spirit, you'll write much
more powerful haiku. Number 2, show, don't tell. It's not talking about a thing, but entering it and showing
the person what you found. Number 3, embrace play. Writing haiku is
all about playing. Contemporary haiku writer,
Clark Strand said, "This process is like
rolling the dice." You can write multiple versions. In fact, that's encouraged. The important thing
is to have fun to be in a loose and relaxed
state when you're writing. Don't take it too seriously. You don't want to box
yourself in with the haiku. We want to see it as
an invitation for you to just improvise and play. Number 4, grounding
as a route of haiku. When writing haiku, take a leap, but only when you
have grounding. This means being rooted
in the present moment. Writing with your entire body, not just with your head. Feel the pen gliding
across the smooth paper while feeling your
belly rising up and down from your breaths. Haiku is a form of meditation, so allow it to transform
you as you write.
7. Write Haiku in 6 Steps: There are infinite
ways to write haiku but it does help to
have a starting point. Here is my process
which I hope can be a handy guide for you as
you take this fun plunge. The first step is to let go. Haiku is really about receiving whatever moment is
before you fully. You cannot receive
if your cup is already full of expectations, preconceived notions, or
your unfinished to-do list. Before you begin, it does help to empty
yourself of yourself so haiku can write
itself in you. The way you do this is
with a simple meditation. Now, if you're like, gosh, I
have tried meditation before and I'm not good at it, it's not for me, don't worry, you can do this. You were probably taught one of the common myths of meditation, which prevent a
lot of people from connecting with the true
essence of this practice. If you're more
interested in this, you can dive deeper into my
meditation one-on-one class. For now, I've included
a lesson with a short guided
meditation you can play before you put
your pen to paper. Step number 2, when you feel routed
back into yourself, take a seat and
soften your gaze, adopt a wider view
of perception. Most of the time, we don't really notice
what's around us because we're stuck
in our thoughts or just out of habit
noticing the familiar. Haiku is all about
noticing the subtle. Like when a sparrow
sinks for a second before it opens its wings, open your perception
to the subtlety and the hidden magic around you, will reveal itself. Step number 3, start writing when
you feel an inner tug or small whisper of curiosity. This bark is not
something to look for or aim for but to
wait for and receive, when it comes, trust that feeling
and go with it. See it as an invitation. Step number 4, write down every
line that comes. There may be more than one
choice that sounds right, put them all down,
roll that dice, if your inner critic pops
up and says something like, this sucks, just gently
think it and let it go. Know the inner critic is a
normal part of the game. Continue rolling the dice
and enjoy the process. Step number 5, revise. Make it crystal clear, remove anything not needed. Did you use the best word
to catch the moment? Do you feel the moment
when you read it? Is something missing? Here is an example of how one word can make
all the difference. Imagine having no home, all you have is one suitcase
and a crushed daisy. Version 2, imagine no home, all you have is one suitcase and a crushed daisy
by Brenda Jacobsen. In the first version, the word having, I feel it's unnecessary, especially since
you have the word have in the second line. The word having also makes it feel like you're
talking about a person. In the second version, by removing this word, it feels like you're
talking about a people. Here's another example, this one from my own collection. A little backstory. I grew up in Europe and America, the daughter of
Chinese immigrants. My grandparents lived in China. This meant that we
only visited them once every four or five years. When my grandparents were
really slowing down, I remember feeling
this deep sadness and pain sitting silently in
the airport taxi that would kick off our journey back to
the West very well knowing that this was likely
to be the last time I'd see my grandparents. I wrote this haiku
as a way to hold and express this emotion that
will live in me forever. Airport taxi leaves, the rearview mirror wipes
tears of my grandma. We all have felt the
deep sadness that comes when meeting someone we
cherish for the last time and I hope this haiku showed you how this poetic form
can create a bridge between us and show
our common humanity. Here were some
previous versions. I ultimately settled
on this version because it showed that
twist most clearly. I like how I showed
you it was raining as the back window
windshield wipers were on. Besides wiping raindrops, the
back windshield wipers were also wiping the tears falling
down my grandma's face, which I could clearly see
in the rearview mirror. Step number 6, share. Haikus were meant for sharing. In fact in Japan, haikus began as games
between groups of people or one person would
write a haiku, which would be the prompt
for another person to write their
verse and so forth. This chain would continue
for hours and even days. To carry on this tradition, after you write a haiku, please share your favorites
on the class projects page and a few lines on how
this process went for you. Then share it on my Instagram
tagging me @dandanliustudio so I can share it
with my community. I cannot wait to
see what you write.
8. Guided Writing Warm-up Meditation: I'm so excited for you
to begin writing haiku. Before you put pen
to paper though, let's take a few
moments to re-center and open ourselves to
receive this process. Doing this will align you
with the spirit of haiku. First, sit in a
comfortable position, close your eyes and take a
few deep breaths gifting yourself with this
fresh stream of oxygen that carries your stress away. Feel your feet firmly
planted on the ground, which pushes you
up with support. Feel your body in its entirety. Allow your shoulders
to just drop and your arms to
sink down heavy. Allow your jaw to soften, all the tiny muscles
in your face to relax. Any tension in your
wrists, let it evaporate. Continue to breathe, letting go of your stress, feeling like you're coming
back home to this present. When you're ready, you
may open your eyes and begin the writing process. Have fun.
9. How to Tell if Your Haiku is Good: [MUSIC] As subjective as
the realm of poetry is, there is good haiku that
stands the test of time and bad haiku that are
quickly forgotten. How do you know if you've
written a good haiku? I love what Allen Ginsberg says. He says, "the only real
measure of a haiku is upon hearing one, your mind experiences a
small sensation of space, which is nothing less than God". Basho, known as the
father of haiku said that a good haiku
works on two axes. The horizontal one
is the present, then there is the vertical
one, which is the past. For me, the best way to
know if your haiku is good is to share and receive
the feedback of others. Do they experience
the leap of the mind? Does your haiku cut through
their thinking minds and touch something in them? Maybe even shatter
something within them.
10. Class Wrap-Up & Parting Thoughts: Congratulations for
finishing this class. I hope that you now see
haiku with new eyes and have enjoyed learning how this tiny form can
contain multitudes. I hope that this has given you a new connection to
the present moment and a new way of expressing whatever may be too big to hold. If you enjoyed this class, I invite you to check out my other classes on
my instructor page and sign up for my newsletter where I share
curated inspiration, behind the scenes, updates, and more high-value resources on the art of authentic living. I'm going to wrap up this
class with a parting haiku. Eating grapes like one word, another word, and still another. Thank you so much for
taking this journey with me and I'm wishing you all the
best for your haiku writing. Until next time. [MUSIC]
11. My Teahouse of Wonder: If you enjoyed this class, I invite you to leave a review and sign up for my newsletter. This is not your ordinary
newsletter, but instead, a virtual tea house
of wonders where I share curated inspiration
behind the scenes, updates, and more
high-value resources on the art of authentic,
creative living. It is my most intimate space to spoil my readers with delight. Sign up to receive on my course
instructor page. [MUSIC]
Dandan Liu, Filmmaker | Contemplative Creative
