The Temptation of the Buddha: A Fictional Study in the History of Religion and of Aesthetics

by Sonny Saul

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN:

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  “There can be no schools.

  There are only painters.”

  Gustave Courbet

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  Gotama, at this period, is described as a “bountiful man” who “wears a yellow robe and wanders homeless.”

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  One Day, Many Years Later

  The simile of a calf, which enjoys its life with its mother and then stays on with her after the nurturing time has passed, has been used to illustrate the effect that the Buddha had upon many of those he encountered.

  It seems reasonable and it’s easy to imagine that, at first, in those very early days, most ‘Buddhists’ lived in remote areas—forming occasional, novel social groups apart from the greater society. Though accounts vary, Buddha was said to be, at times, in the company of over a hundred people; men, women, and children of all ages. Eventually little village groups—of up to several hundred, or even a thousand grew up in which the practice of ‘Buddhism’ could be facilitated.

  Gotama at this period is described as a “bountiful man” who “wears a yellow robe and wanders homeless”. One account reads that during the rainy seasons it became his habit to withdraw to one location, the town of Shrvasti. This retreat was known as vassa. In the other seasons, when no rain fell, Gotama traveled, teaching about the way he had discovered.

  It’s easy to imagine him sometimes returning to visit his Shakya home in the foothills of the Himalayas, then walking south, to visit such cities as Kushinava and Vaishal. crossing the Ganges at the port of Patalipurta on his way to Rajagriha, where, it has been reported, he would spend at least a month in the bamboo groves outside the city, always sleeping outside, and spending time each day begging food in the country lanes.

  From Rajagrika, likely the Buddha moved on to Varanasi where I imagine him, in his later years, with many hundreds of people accompanying him on pilgrimages to the Deer Park. They must have traveled in the dead of night—because of the sun’s heat—and slept all day.

  In the early twentieth century Rabindranath Tagore wrote, “In India we still cherish in our memory the tradition of the forest colonies of great teachers. Those places were neither schools nor monasteries, in the modern sense of the world. They consisted of homes where, with their families, lived men whose object was to see the world in God and to realize their own life in him.”

  The forest, near the village, was like a happy retreat, cool and silent, with flowers and birds… with bowers and huts. To help imagine Gotama and Desire in such surroundings, I want to describe another imaginary painting by a great artist. This time I think it is the Dutchman Pieter Breughel the Elder (1525 -1569) who might have best interpreted Tagore’s “forest colonies”, depicting Gotama and Desire with oil paints on canvas..

  … a dramatic landscape extending through vast distances… low hills bulge out of the earth… a lingering monsoon cloud puffed up out of nowhere momentarily obscures the sun casting shadows with patterns of contrasting colors. Upon closer examination, to which we are subtly drawn through subsidiary well-integrated color rhythms, the picture is revealed to be teeming with human activity.

  The many figures, which at first sight seem to be scattered at random all over the lower part of the picture, gradually reveal themselves as the units in a varied and effective space-composition.

  The ‘subject’ becomes discernible only when we read the title of the painting: “Buddha and Desire Preaching”. Only then, do we begin to look for, and find them, in the lower foreground. We discover them in the context of a level fruited land, well watered with numerous streams, and animated by a sampling of what, when we look closely, represents an endless profusion of activity. A herd of buffaloes, rustling through the grasses, is driven out to graze. Beneath spindly eucalyptus trees, hand-carts loaded with vegetables trundle toward market on a small dirt road. Visible along this road—further away from town are men … carrying… what? Perhaps alms, or maybe supplies. I see some are carrying flowers. Apart, off the road, in a grove of bamboo trees, which form a visual base for further varied and active movement, some men are sitting alone, some in small groups. When I notice their begging bowls I remember the ‘forest colony’ suggested by Tagore. But the eye is subtly led back to the sal trees and you realize, by the light, that it’s morning… Attention rests (visually) while the mind enjoys contrast between a keen interest in identifying and studying the figures and in seeing them merge into a background to which much greater space is allotted.

  Entering the picture we can discern the social organization. A routine has evolved. In calm, warm, well-shaded groves, group recitation is taking place. The conventional melodic lines, well known cadences and repetitions produce the sonorous, harmonious effect conducive to an elevated serenity. Peasants, Brahmin’s, merchants, warriors, women, children and elderly alike have gathered.

  It is the hour for their morning walk. Buddha is a little heavier now and accustomed to wearing ceremonial robes. He is without a turban. He holds Desire’s hand. Her long hair, not grayed, is wound closely around her head, up and off the shoulders and neck. She wears a colorful wide cotton sari, which is likewise gracefully wrapped around her body with the loose end thrown over her shoulder.

  “Imagine,” Desire begins talking right away, “a man wandering in a jungle. Suppose he finds an ancient path, one trodden upon by men of some earlier age, and following it, discovers a dwelling place, surrounded by a park. There are even several lotus pools. Refreshing and beautiful, it’s a thoroughly delightful place and it is completely uninhabited. Suppose that man were to go back home and announce his discovery to his family and friends, and propose that they should all go there to live…. well, that’s the case with Gotama. He has found an inner dwelling; a place in fact inhabited by Buddha’s of a bygone age.”

  Indicating with his arms the earth and the expanse of sky, Gotama said, “I used to think—‘how grand must one become when fully awakened!’ and, ‘How admirable is he who devotes himself so fully to spiritual activity that he no longer thinks of himself!’ But… how mistaken I was! I don’t like being called Buddha! It is a singular sensation to hear one’s self praised. Positions of honor, and this has always been said, enslave gods and men. I can only attempt to regard such occasions as admonitions…”

  “Listen to this.” Gotama said quickly, diverting the topic from himself… “I want to tell you a story. I heard it from my first guru—an old man and a mad one for certain. So unlike anything I had been taught, this lesson set me thinking in some new ways and I have never forgotten what he said.

  “‘It’s like this,’ he told me, ‘Inside us, it is as if we have an ox. Now this ox can obey orders from outside, but the mind is too weak generally to do anything inside. So, however we train or educate the mind, the ox since it is largely untamed and untrained will only know the grossest commands. That’s why,’ he explained, ‘it is easy to decide something but then have trouble carrying out one’s resolve.”

  “‘Meanwhile,’ he told me, ‘don’t forget about the driver, and all that belongs to the driver… He can’t drag his cart along without the ox.’ Well, listen! He yelled at me, ‘You’re the ox, and it’s the ox who must change.’”

  “While I was trying to follow all this and to comprehend the meanings, the old man rushed right on to tell me that the cart was important too. He shouted it, ‘Its existence has been ignored,’ he said. ‘but it’s a real part of the team. It has its own life, which is the basis of our life. It thinks, is hungry, has desires, work. It too should be educated, trained. Originally the cart was built for a different road. The mechanical parts were built for that road. But the road has changed. It is difficult now to escape a breakdown.’”

  “That’s just as he told me! Just the way he told it!” Gotama broke off with loud laughter.

  Desire was smiling. Looking around she saw the bemused and puzzled looks on the faces around her. She said, “If it weren’t lau
ghed at, it wouldn’t be ‘Buddhism’.”

  “So, in the old man’s story, what then is the self. He would not explain it, but… consider, it can be neither ox, driver, nor cart, neither thought, mind, nor body. These are, each, conditions which the self must submit to; fetters, clouds by which it is darkened, so as to lose the sense of its substantial oneness.”

  Desire was smiling. Looking around she saw the bemused and puzzled looks on the faces around her. She said, “If it weren’t laughed at, it wouldn’t be ‘Buddhism’.”

  The lore of Buddhism is rich in ‘conversations’. Zen Buddhism especially takes up this genre to great effect. Authenticity is not of concern. Somewhat like collective dreaming or collective novel writing, conversations have suggested themselves and remained in the literature. I wish to add just a few. This next involves a wandering ‘truth seeker’ who has just joined the group. We can imagine him emerging from Bruegel’s painting.

  With just a bit of cloth tied around his waist, an emaciated fellow whose age is difficult to determine his face being crossed with dirt as well as wrinkles and his matted hair, being of indeterminate color and tied in a top knot comes up and addresses Gotama and Desire.

  This is their first conversation. The dirty fellow introduces himself like this, “Right away, when I heard about you, I felt that I ought to meet you and possibly, be instructed. To this end I have worn out a pair of sandals, and I am glad to find you. Though I have not been here long, already I feel that something is very different. I have not observed customs I expected to find and some social arrangements I have observed surprise me. Men and women are eating, talking, relaxing together. It appears that you are living in easy abundance, in pleasant company.”

  Desire answered, smiling ironically, “Oh come on, shall be like a line of blind men—each holding onto and being guided by the one ahead of him?”

  She had heard this comment before. “Asceticism” she explained, “especially extreme asceticism, is never natural. It is always a reaction. It doesn’t, it cannot represent Truth in its original aspect.”

  Gotama followed her, “When enjoyment loses its direct touch with life, growing fantastic in a world of elaboration, then comes the call for renunciation, which rejects even happiness itself as a snare.”

  Desire’s voice rose where his fell. “Yes… You may have already experienced for yourself that it’s easy enough to slice off one’s flesh or even to give up one’s life altogether for the sake of what one supposes to be a ‘spiritual perfection’. In fact, doesn’t one make similar sacrifices when one desires fame or fortune in a worldly way?”

  Gotama said, “Knotting the hair, shaving the head, sprinkling ashes over the naked body, fine robes, a great house, riches… The hermit and the man of the world likewise indulge or are slaves to their vanities, their passions. ”

  Desire added, “And also, for the same reasons, are respected by others.”

  Gotama said, “I have often compared our life in the world to a lotus plant that is living in the water. Our petals do not become soaked.” Gotama and Desire took each other’s hands and Gotama went on, “Before I came to this understanding I was like a person caught in a room who wants to get out, but doesn’t know how. I tried the window, but it was too high. I tried the door, but it was too narrow. If only I had turned around, I would have seen that the door was right there and open all the time.”

  Desire suggested, “Since it is ignorance that is at the root of trouble… following old customs, obeying rules won’t help.” When she paused Gotama began, “Only having direct and authentic experiences yourself helps. ”

  “Before I came to this understanding I was like a person caught in a room who wants to get out, but doesn’t know how. I tried the window, but it was too high. I tried the door, but it was too narrow. If only I had turned around, I would have seen that the door was right there and open all the time.”

  Their voices continued as if in song, or like a musical duet with the hands crossing on the piano. Desire began a phrase, “So, we have a saying, ‘Whoever wishes may live in a village’…” Gotama followed her lead, “‘Whoever wishes may live in a forest.’ And so, … in answer to your question… we have no compulsions.”

  Desire; “To be attached to one thing, say a certain opinion or practice and to look down upon other ones as inferior—this is called ‘a fetter’. It is like being chained.”

  Gotama; “We certainly are not teaching that there is one thing that is the truth and everything else is false.”

  Desire; “Why drag in truth anyway? Just be ordinary.”

  Gotama; “For us, the way is keeping in good health, an ordinary life.”

  Desire; “That is our ‘practice’. ”

  Gotama; “Original mind is like the empty sky.”

  Desire and Gotama put their arms around each other and bow together to their guest as they finish this long passage.

  Another imaginary conversation occurred later, when the cooler breezes of the late afternoon encouraged another walk. Gotama and Desire had left the group and set out along an acacia shaded path. One of the company, a tall, older man, well, but modestly, dressed, in good health and with a friendly way about him, begged their indulgence.

  “We knew one another a long time ago, when we were young men. You and I were disciples of the same old guru.” he said. “We soon became friendly and discovered that we had each abandoned comfortable lives for many of the same reasons. Do you remember me?”

  “My friend, I certainly do.” Siddhartha said. “As I recall those problems that gnawed within us like worms and gave neither of us any rest.”

  “It didn’t take you very long to realize that you could not get what you needed with this guru. You left, and not long after, so did I. By that time I had lost hope of discovering anything real concerning those matters which made me join the forest school in the first place.” Siddhartha’s old friend said.

  “Years later, by chance, we met a second time. It was just after you and Desire had begun to teach together. You and I sat together and had a good talk one afternoon. Do you remember?”

  Desire embraced him. “It was you”, he said to her, “who kept after me, wanting me to give my own answers. We had been talking about death, and about reincarnation. I could not comprehend or accept your lack of interest in this topic, Gotama. Well, Desire, you asked my own opinion about the reasons for birth and death. I’ll remind you that I did not know very well what to reply. Although I had thought long about it, and had diligently studied the Vedas, I could not give a decent answer.”

  “Gotama, you insisted that you had nothing to impart on this question yourself, and that if you tried to give an answer I might have an occasion to make it an object of ridicule and that, anyway, whatever you might say would be your own answer that it would not be mine.”

  “This conversation affected me deeply. I began to think freshly about many things. I admit to you, that I realized that I had been looking for all the wrong things in all the wrong directions. For the first time in years I recalled, vividly, the life I lived before entering the forest. Right then I decided that I would return home to the family that I had abandoned and to try to live, as best I could, the life to which I was born.”

  “Well you know it is not so easy to go back home. Many things besides myself had changed. My father was now very old, and much weakened. I was glad to be able to devote attention to his household. This is how it happened. One afternoon… it was nearly a year after our conversation… I was sweeping the walk of my father’s house when a pebble which my broom had sent flying struck some bamboo. The unexpected sound it produced suddenly, in a flash elevated my mind. Immediately all my discouragement vanished before a feeling of happiness. All anxiety, all doubt was dispelled. The misgivings that had been harassing me a moment before concerning my course of life, and of the possibility of realizing truth, or even of truth itself, were suddenly banished as if by magic. My joy became boundless.”

  “Desi
re, the question that you had asked me, which I continued to hold in my mind, became transparent. With that sensation, the sound of a pebble knocking against some bamboo, came all the others connected with it which had been waiting in their proper place, a series, lost and forgotten until this sudden happening imperiously commanded them to come forth. The frivolous, somehow unavoidable way in which I had come upon the sensation guaranteed the truth, the reality which that sensation had revived… and of the mental images released… and the new viewpoint I came to!

  “I understood that I would not have had this experience if you had been unkind enough to explain all things to me. You were like perfect gurus.”

  Gotama, also smiling, but with deep feeling, said “I am glad we did not ruin things for you, but we deserve no credit here. You somehow expected… the unexpected… what you could not have hoped for… or it would have remained undetectable.”

  Desire, beaming, said, “Your story demonstrates the truth that any teaching, spiritual training included, should be a means to an end—a way towards a direct experience… like the one that you have had.”

  “Imagine a raft that is used to get across a river. If good teaching can be compared to anything, it is like that. Would anyone think it was wise to keep sitting on this raft after the passage had been accomplished?”

  “Gotama and I—since we last met have begun to build what we consider to be a solid raft. We call it the “Noble Eightfold Path”. It can get us across. It can help to get us over the difficulties because it leaves them no room.”

  “Gotama said, “Desire and I, in our formal teaching, say that before one can embark upon the raft, one must understand the Four Noble Truths.”