“Yes?” I quickly replied.
“He’s dead.”
“WHAT? Alara Kalama is dead? When?”
“Seven days ago.”
“But this is terrible, Alara Kalama was to have been my first student!”
“Yes, well, as I said, he’s dead.” The god stared at me with a dull look on his long face for a moment, then turned and strolled away. I stood there after he left, trying to decide who to teach now. Then it hit me: “My other old teacher, Ramaputta!” I cried aloud. “Like Alara Kalama, Ramaputta is a wise and thoughtful man. He sees things clearly. He will certainly understand my teachings. Ramaputta is the perfect person!” Filled with renewed excitement, I started towards where Ramaputta lived, but after a few steps that same lank-haired young god appeared before me again.
“Excuse me, sir.”
“What is it now?”
“Your other old teacher, Ramaputta?”
“Yes, yes?”
“He’s dead too.”
“What?? When?”
“Um … last night, I think?”
“Ramaputta died last night ?? Of what?”
“I don’t know that, sir, I just know that he’s dead.”
“But this is terrible. I was on my way to teach him!”
“Yes, well, as I said, he’s dead. Anyway, goodbye, sir.” (MV 1:6; AP 1:163–72)
The young god slouched away and I stood there, once again uncertain. “Now who should I teach?” I asked myself. “Alara Kalama and Ramaputta are both dead. Who else is there?” I stroked my chin for a long moment, then suddenly knew the answer. “Of course!” I thought. “Kondanna and the other ascetics! I have spent a great deal of time with them over the past few years. They are the perfect ones to start with!”
The last time I’d seen Kondanna and the other ascetics had been several months earlier, not long after I’d eaten the rice porridge Sujata had given me. They had openly scorned me at that time. Now, as I strode back towards them, they instantly started mocking me. “Look who’s here, friends, it’s none other than Prince Siddhartha.”
“Looking for some milk and honey, Prince Siddhartha?”
“Looking for a cushion to sit on?”
“Looking for—?”
Suddenly they all stopped and fell silent, stunned by the radiance of my visage. Almost as if against their own wills, the ascetics all leapt to their feet and bowed deeply to me. “Friend,” several of them murmured. “Friend.” (ASV 15:108; MV 1:6) I stopped and looked at them, steely-eyed. “First of all, do not call me ‘friend’ again,” I said. “I am now a Perfectly Enlightened Being, a Buddha, and I am here to teach you.”
Kondanna shook his head, incredulous. “On what basis do you claim to have achieved such god-like status, Gotama?” he stammered.
“I have awakened, Kondanna. I have found the solution to suffering. And while I do not care for myself whether you treat me with the proper respect, for I have transcended ego, it is not, in a larger sense, permissible to refer to a Buddha as ‘friend.’” (AP 1:167–73; DP 153–54)
“What should we call you then?”
“You may call me ‘Tathagata.’”
“ … Perfect One?”
“Correct. You may also call me ‘Exalted One,’ ‘Insightful One’ or ‘Gifted One.’ ‘The Essence of Perfection’ is acceptable too, as is ‘Leader of the Caravan,’ ‘Taster of Truth’ and ‘Lord of the World.’” (ASV 16:70–74)
The ascetics stared at me, dumbfounded. “Many great and venerable thinkers have come before you, Gotama. None of them has ever claimed the kind of supreme enlightenment you are claiming,” one said. “On what basis do you do so when you are still so young?”
“Tell me, bikkhu,” I shot back, “do you doubt fire when it is young?” They all stared at me, startled by my astonishing question. “Monks,” I continued, looking them in the eye one by one, “have you ever heard me speak this way before?” (Samy. 3:1)
“No, Gotama,” they all murmured. “Never.”
“I tell you that I have understood the nature of Absolute Reality and I am here to teach it to you if you wish to learn. Do you wish to learn?”
One by one, each of them slowly nodded.
“Excellent,” I said, then spread my arms widely and called out in a loud, clear voice: “The Great Wheel of Truth will now begin to turn!”
10
The following day the ascetics sat before me. “To begin with, bikkhus, there are the Four Noble Truths. Noble Truth Number One: Life is pain.”
I saw slight disappointment in their eyes: “We obviously already knew that, Gotama,” I could imagine they were thinking.
“Noble Truth Number Two:” I continued. “All suffering comes from desire.” I saw more disappointment in their eyes. “We understood that already too, Gotama. That’s why we’re starving ourselves out here, because we’re trying to overcome our desires.”
“Noble Truth Number Three:” I went on, lowering my voice solemnly. “The suffering that stems from desire can be ended.”
Oh, that one got their attention. Kondanna suddenly sat forward and stared at me intently. “But how, Tathagata?”
“That, Kondanna, is Noble Truth Number Four. Are you ready to hear it?”
“Yes, of course!”
“Noble Truth Number Four: All that is required to end desire …” I paused meaningfully: “Is the following eight things.” (SY 45:8)
“I’m sorry … Did you not just say there were Four Noble Truths, Tathagata?”
“I did, Kondanna.”
“Is it not eleven now?”
“No, Kondanna, it is four. It is simply that Noble Truth Number Four has eight parts to it, that’s all.”
“It kind of is eleven then,” I heard another ascetic mutter under his breath.
“No, bikkhu, it is NOT eleven,” I replied sharply. “It is four. Noble Truth Number Four has eight parts to it but that does not change the fact that there are Four Noble Truths.”
“What are the eight parts to Noble Truth Number Four, Tathagata?” Kondanna asked.
“Thank you for asking, Kondanna. The answer is simple. In order to fulfill Noble Truth Number Four and overcome desire, one must do the following eight things: (1) Have the right views; (2) Have the right intentions; (3) Speak the right words; (4) Perform the right actions; (5) Do the right work; (6) Make the right effort; (7) Have the right state of mind and (8) Practice the right concentration.”
There was a lengthy pause, then one of the ascetics said in a small voice, “That actually sounds rather difficult, Tathagata.”
“No, it is quite easy, you will see.”
Kondanna, who had been staring thoughtfully at the ground, suddenly looked up at me, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “Are you suggesting, Tathagata, that by following the eight steps of Noble Truth Number Four we might, in time, actually overcome desire?”
“That is exactly what I am suggesting, Kondanna.”
Kondanna continued, his eyes wide and amazed. “And that by overcoming desire, we might achieve nirvana?”
“Kondanna has understood, bikkhus,” I announced. “Kondanna has understood.” (After that day, I gave Kondanna the nickname “Anna Kondanna,” which means “Kondanna has understood.” It was literal, I grant you, but it was definitely accurate.) At the moment of Kondanna’s spiritual awakening, the gods cheered happily. “The dharma wheel has been set in motion and cannot be stopped by anyone on earth!” they all shouted in celebration. It was apparently quite exciting. (DCP 420–24)
The following day, we regathered. “I spoke to you yesterday of the Noble Eightfold Path, bikkhus. Today I will more fully explain it. Some questions for you: When the Tathagata says ‘Right View,’ what does he mean by that? Answer: When the Tathagata says ‘Right View,’ what he means is knowledge of his words. What does the Tathagata mean by ‘Right Intention’? ‘Right Intention’ is the intention to follow the Tathagata’s words. What does he mean by ‘Right Speech’? ‘Right Speech’ mea
ns not denying the truth of the Tathagata’s words.”
“Does every step on the Eightfold Path involve nothing more than obeying your words, Tathagata?”
“No, Vappa, the Eightfold Path is far larger and more profound than that. Regarding Right Speech, for instance, it also means don’t speak of trivial things, like clothing or criminals; it means be, you know, lovable. (DG 22; MJ 41) Moving on, step number four on the Noble Eightfold Path is Right Action. There are five specific components to Right Action.”
“Aren’t we sort of up to sixteen now?” I heard one of the ascetics whisper, but I ignored that. “The first rule of Right Action is to not have sex. Sex is very bad, bikkhus, terrible really. It is embarrassing and messy, but more than that sex leads to children who are nothing but fetters placed upon you.”
“But … if there is no sex at all, Tathagata, would not human life come to an end?”
“Indeed it would, Mahanama, and that is the very outcome we wish for (ASV 11:59; SY 35:28), a perfect empty planet, barren of all life! Another rule regarding Right Action: Avoid singing, dancing and putting on theatrical productions. (ANG 8:41) Moving on, step number five on the Noble Eightfold Path is Right Effort. Right Effort mainly involves crushing, yes, CRUSHING, the sexual desires within yourself. Step Number Six is Right Work.”
“What is Right Work, Tathagata?”
“For us, bikkhus, it is begging.”
“For food, Tathagata?”
“Yes, begging for food. For other people, ‘householders,’ let us call them, Right Work means refraining from any job that involves weapons. No job involving knives, for instance, is permissible.”
“What about knives that are used to slice food, Tathagata?”
“Those knives are fine.”
“But couldn’t a food-cutting knife also be used as a weapon, Tathagata?”
“Look, knives that are sharp enough to cut food but not sharp enough to be weapons, alright?” I paused, looked at the ascetics meaningfully. “Now we reach the two final, yet most important steps of the Noble Eightfold Path, bikkhus. Step number seven is Right Mindfulness.”
“What does it mean, Tathagata?”
“It means to be aware, Assaji. When you are sitting, be aware that you are sitting. When you are walking, be aware that you are walking. When you are defecating, be aware that you are defecating. (DG 22; PP; SP) (By the way, don’t defecate standing up; it’s a terrible idea for obvious reasons.) (TV) Lastly, step number eight is Right Concentration. This means, bikkhus, that in order to proceed spiritually, you must learn something very basic—how to breathe.”
The monks glanced at each other, unsure. “Do we not breathe all the time, Tathagata?” one said. “Yes, are we not breathing right now?” another added.
“Not in the way I am talking about, bikkhus. You must not merely ‘breathe,’ you see, but be aware of your breathing.” I closed my eyes and demonstrated for them, taking long, deep breaths, then slowly breathing them out. “Breathing in, I think to myself, ‘I breathe in, I KNOW I am breathing in.’ Breathing OUT, I think to myself, ‘I breathe out, I KNOW I am breathing out.’” I changed the rhythm of my breathing. “Breathing in short, I think to myself, ‘I am breathing in short.’ Breathing out short, I think to myself, ‘I am breathing out short.’ My entire body is breathing in and I think to myself, ‘My entire body is breathing in.’ Loooong breath in … loooong breath out …” (SY 54:13)
“It just looks like he’s breathing,” I heard someone whisper.
I opened my eyes, looked directly at the monks. “You are not where the Buddha is at this point, bikkhus. Start where you are, enter the stream, try not to be a degenerate, and in time, and yes, it might be hundreds of billions of years, but in time, you may become an arahant like me and go blissfully extinct.” (ASV 16:43)
11
The following day, we reconvened.
“You have heard me say again and again that life is nothing but pain, bikkhus (ANG 7:70; AP; MV 1:6), but what exactly do I mean by that? I will explain. Starting at the beginning, you spend your first days trapped in your mother’s womb—it is fetid and filthy in there. Your excrement floats around you. You try to scream but instead accidentally swallow your own excrement. Consider the loneliness you feel in the womb, bikkhus, the bitter and horrible friendlessness. You are alone, trapped in this miserable sewer with no one to help you. This is how your life begins.” (ASV 14:32)
I let these words sink in for a moment, then nodded and continued. “Now you are born, bikkhus. Imagine the stark terror of it, crushed between two walls. ‘Noooooooo,’ you scream, crying out in agony as you enter this brutal world, hot tears streaming down your red, burning cheeks. You don’t want this. You don’t WANT to exist, but you have no choice. The lucky baby, bikkhus, is the one who is stillborn, or perhaps severely retarded and thus unable to understand how vile human existence really is.” (VK; TGG; DP 11:147–151)
I began to walk among the monks. “Now you grow older, bikkhus, you begin to walk and talk, to feed yourself. You begin to forget how horrible life was in the womb, how terrifying it was to be born, how humiliating it was to be a baby and constantly be defecating in your pants. ‘Maybe my life will be good,’ you begin to think to yourself. ‘Maybe everything will turn out alright.’ But you are wrong; your life will NOT turn out alright. Now you get sick. You cannot eat, you can barely breathe, perhaps you defecate in your pants again. ‘Won’t someone please help me?’ you think to yourself. But no one will help you and do you know why, because no one can help you. You begin to waste away, bikkhus, to deteriorate. ‘I had things I wanted to do,’ you whimper pathetically, ‘but now all I do is suffer.’”
“But perhaps you get better, eh, bikkhus? Perhaps you survive your illness, perhaps you thrive and make your way in the world! ‘Now I will be truly happy,’ you cry determinedly. But you are wrong once again, you will not be ‘happy,’ you will NEVER be happy, and do you know why not? Because no matter how your life goes, you will lose things. (DCP) An example: Let us say that you have a pet monkey whom you love. Let us say that your pet monkey is a charming little rascal, a delightful little scamp who gives you endless happiness. Excellent—but tell me, what do you think will happen when your charming little monkey friend dies, as he inevitably will? You will instantly wish he had never lived—that is what will happen. Another example: Let us say that you have a blanket you love. Do you think the blanket will protect you from suffering? Yes, Vappa?”
“I think it will, if it is cold, Tathagata.”
“Ah, but what if it is hot, Vappa?”
“Why would you put a blanket over yourself if it was hot, Tathagata?”
“I wouldn’t, Vappa, why would you?”
“I wouldn’t, it would be pointless.”
“Precisely and, you see, we are right back where we started! The presence of the blanket will not ease your suffering but the loss of the blanket will increase your suffering.”
“Are you saying that we should go without blankets then, Tathagata?”
“No, Vappa, without a blanket you will be cold, wishing you had your blanket.”
“So … what are you saying the correct path is then, Tathagata?”
“The correct path, Vappa, is to have your blanket but not to care about it.” (ASV 11:42; ATT 1:2)
As Vappa nodded vaguely, I continued. “But perhaps you will be the lucky one once again, eh, bikkhu? Perhaps you will not lose things, perhaps your karma will be that good, everything will go well for you, you won’t get sick at all, you will live a long, healthy and successful life, congratulations! But guess what, bikkhus? You will still inevitably get old. Before long your beautiful young body will become withered, bent and unspeakably ugly. ‘I cannot see anymore,’ you will cry. ‘I cannot walk, I cannot control my bowels! I am nothing but a worthless drain on the world, no one loves me, not even my own children (the ones who aren’t dead, that is, because most of your children will definitely die). All of my friends are dead—I am l
onely and terrified and won’t someone please help me?’ But once again, no one will help you because no one can help you.”
I paused meaningfully, then lowered my voice to something just above a whisper. “And then, bikkhus, after all your endless misery, comes the most terrible part of all: Death. In the end, after a lifetime of sickness, unhappiness and loss, your final reward will be that your body, which has been a sewer all your life, filled with shit, piss, pus and puke, will now become a rancid sewer. (MJ 10; OJO, Humans; SZJ 35; SP; ANG 3:35) That, bikkhus, is the true nature of human life.”
There was silence for a long moment, before one of the monks, Assaji, asked in a small voice, “Is there not some joy in life too, Tathagata?”
“Joy is ephemeral, Assaji. Only pain is permanent”
“But does joy not even exist, Tathagata?”
“It does not exist, Assaji, and here is why: Even those things which you think of as ‘enjoyable’ inevitably cause pain when you lose them. No, bikkhus, the one reality, the only reality, is pain. Understand that and you can, in time, escape it. Fail to understand that and the following things will inevitably, yes inevitably, happen to you: Pain—poverty—broken bones—insanity—legal problems—dead family—burned-down house—Hell. (DP 10) The choice is your, bikkhus.”
12
Throughout the early months of my teaching, as my sangha was growing, Mara would periodically show up to pester me. “You will never escape me, monk,” he would jeer at me. “Go away, Mara,” I would instantly respond. “I am telling you that you will never escape me, monk,” he would bluster. “And I am telling you to go away, devil!” Mara would stare at me unblinkingly for a few seconds, seemingly surprised by my treatment of him. “The Buddha knows me,” I sometimes saw in his eyes before he skulked away. Then, not long afterwards, he’d be back. “You are bound by my shackles and you shall not escape me, monk!” he would shriek. “Go away, Mara,” I would respond, and that would lead to that same exact look: “The Buddha knows me,” followed by that same exact deflated trudge away. One time I really let Mara have it: “You’re like a crab with all its legs pulled off,” I told him. “You’re just a body, unable to move or help itself in any way, honestly. You’re a pathetic travesty.” (SY 4:1–24; MV 7:15) Lower lip trembling, Mara turned on his heel and speed-walked away.
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