History of the Buddha: Part 2

Last time on the History of the Buddha:

"Gosh, my mother said having a baby was painful and hard, this must have the been the most peaceful birth ever."

"We'll call him Siddhartha."

"A king! I feel it too! He'll be a great king of kings, like this Jesus guy I'm always hearing about."

"He will be a king, and like all great kings, the best way to prepare him for a successful rule over his people is to shelter him completely from them."

"Father, ya know, life here in the palace is pretty bitchin' and all that, but what is it like outside?"

"Ok son, I'll tell you what is out there. Outside the palace are old people and sick people and poor people and the worst, the worst are the dead people. These are the types of things that cause existential crises. It's just better to never think of these things."

"The man is no more. He has ceased to be. He's expired and gone to meet his maker. He's a stiff, bereft of life, he rests in peace. His metabolic processes are now history. He's off the twig. He's kicked the bucket, he's shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisibile! This is an ex-person!"

"Oh dear!" He said aloud. "Is this what my father meant when said I'd have an existential crisis?"

And now, the story continues...


"Father, I need to leave the palace...for good."

"Oh son, why did you go outside? I can see from your face that you're going through an existential crisis, just as I had worried."

"Yes father, and the only cure is suffering and poverty. I can't live with such rich comfort, knowing that others are so poor."

"Son, that's not the answer. You should be happy that you are one of the fortunate ones. You have money, palaces, a beautiful wife, a child. So many people don't have what you have, and you're willing to give it up like them?"

"I am no more worthy of this life than anyone else."

"I can't stop you from leaving, you're a grown man of 29 years, but I wish you'd reconsider. I'd miss you."

"I have to do this father. It's the only way I can get rid of the suffering I feel."

So Siddhartha went to his tailor, replaced his fancy lycra clothes for a burlap sack and left all of his possessions, family and life in the palace. Not more than a minute after leaving, he met a familiar face.

"Oh Shiva help me! It's you again."

"Yes poor man, it is me, Siddhartha."

"What are you wearing?"

"It is called burlap; it's quite itchy, but I've never felt more comfortable in my life."

"Where is your lacra?"

"I left my lyra at home."

"Why on Earth did you do that?"

"I have decided to become poor, like you!"

"Why the hell would you like to be poor."

"Because it's not fair that I was rich, while you are poor."

"Are you daft? How does becoming poor change anything? Are you such an asshole that you think you need repentance for being rich? This is not going to give you the release you're searching for. What you'll need is repentance for casting aside the things so many want."

"It doesn't matter what you say, this is what I have to do."

"At least you standing up for the stupid things you believe."

"I have a question for you. May I join you and learn the secrets of being poor?"

"There are no secrets to being poor. If you're poor, you either survive or die. Simple."

"But I don't know how to survive. I need a tutor."

"I don't like you."

"Why don't you like me?"

"Because you're a naive, rich, annoying man-child...just to name three."

"Well, I'm no longer rich and you have the power to rid me of my naivete." Siddhartha paused a moment. "Am I really that annoying?"

The man thought for a while, with Siddhartha staring dough-eyed. "Fine, I'll let you tag around."

"What is your name?"

"Raviv."

"It's a great pleasure to meet you Raviv. So, how do we get food?"

"Get used to being hungry."

"So, what do we do for the day?"

"Live."

"Do you wanna play a game?"

"You ask a lot of questions?"

"I need a lot of answers."

"Your vocabulary shows you are far from the answers you seek."

And so, Siddhartha went into the tutelage of Raviv, where he learned many lessons of a lifestyle that was so different from the one of his past. He learned to forage int he garbage for good food, how to sleep comfortably outside with merely his burlap sack, how to train a monkey to dance for money, and how to elicit pity money from tourists. Never once did he join Raviv in stealing, a despicable act in his eyes. Even though he found this new life to be a new adventure, it wasn't hard. It especially wasn't giving him the release he so desired. That hole was still in his heart.

One day during an exceptionally poor day of begging, Raviv grew quite frustrated.

"Damn ascetics! They're begging us out of our business today."

"Ascetics?"

"Those bastards in the robes. They fancy themselves holy men, but they're just the same as you or me, they only add a pretentious goal to their poverty."

"Really?"

"Pretty dumb."

"No, maybe that's what I need, a solid goal for my poverty."

"Oh god, I knew this would happen, the second I start liking you, you realize how unfulfilling this life is. Do me a favor, if you leave me, go back to your old life, being an ascetic is not the answer."

"How do I find these men?"

"Just follow your nose, you'll find them."

"Right when he said that, an oppressive odor welcomed them as three long-haired, dirty men in robes rounded the corner, carrying a metal can with a thin layer of coins."

"How can I become an ascetic?" Siddhartha asked the men.

"You merely have to follow us and abandon all your possessions and ties to the people you love."

So, he removed his burlap sack, thanked Raviv for all he taught him and became an ascetic.

Siddhartha found a particular knack for being a man in robe. Meditation soothed his soul, having nothing freed his heart of much of his suffering. Soon his beard and hair grew long, his robe grew dirty and years passed before he knew it. His introspection tempered his quick tongue. With his kind eyes and simple wisdom he developed, all who passed him gave alms. He touched all he met.

After a particularly good day, the leader of the group approached Siddhartha. "Siddhartha, I am growing old, too old for the life of a pilgrim. Out of everyone here, you seem to have learned the most. Your wisdom defies your age. Though you are the youngest and have been with me the shortest amount of time, I feel you should become the leader when I pass."

Siddhartha soaked in his words, closed his eyes for five minutes before speaking. His patience kept him from quick decisions, quick responses. Finally, he opened his eyes, turned to his mentor and began to speak. "Baba, I am flattered by your decision. I feel I have learned much from you, more than one should learn in a lifetime. To hear that you feel I am worthy to be a teacher shows I have but little more to learn from you, and when you pass, your wisdom will only exist in your followers, in me. However, as of late, I feel that there is more to learn, another step. How can I learn more in the context of this group if I continue along the same path? The life of an ascetic has taught me much, but we are still bound to the same needs as everyone else. Plus, to live, we much beg, taking alms and food from those who need it. Do we deserve to benefit from the toils of others, just because we wear robes and travel the country?"

"Siddhartha, will there ever be an end to your quest for detachment? Your decision is wise and your are right. Perhaps your wisdom surpasses even me."

Siddhartha smiled, stood up and walked into the woods to find the next step of his growth. He abandonded beggin from others, only eating what he found in the forest. Slowly, he lowered his intake of food until he was eating merely a single nut and a single leaf. Why hsould he deprive the other animals of precious food, just because he was human? He grew thinner and thinner, only having enough energy to meditate. Then one day, he went to bathe and collapsed,too weak to return to land.

Luckily, a fisherman found him, saved his life. He spent a month, nurturing the emaciated Siddhartha back to health with milk and rice pudding. When he finally regained lucidity, Siddhartha realized that the fisherman was none other than Raviv.

"Raviv!"

"Siddhartha, I knew it was you. What were you doing, starving yourself like that?"

"I rejected all things, even food."

"Well that's just stupid!"

Siddhartha did not linger upon regaining his health. Never in his life did he see a man happier than Raviv as a fisherman. He realized that this life he had only narrowly survived had brought him no closer to his release, it hindered it. He envied the modest lifestyle of his friend and found a beautiful pipal tree under which to meditate on his new knowledge. After 49 days, he found the peace for which he was searching. He awoke enlightened. He awoke the Buddha.