Introduction
The word ‘Buddha’ means awakened one, or enlightened one. Anyone who achieves enlightenment is thus a Buddha. It is held within Buddhism that there have been many enlightened figures, many buddhas. But generally speaking, Buddhism is still centred around one enlightened figure in particular – Gautama Buddha – whose life story and teachings are regarded as providing illumination and needed guidance on the path to enlightenment. While the figure of Gautama Buddha is indeed central within Buddhism, Buddhism does not depend on Gautama Buddha as, say, Christianity does on the figure of Jesus Christ, for Gautama is still one buddha among many.1 Indeed, as the path towards enlightenment requires overcoming attachment to self and personality – something which will later be discussed in detail – placing exaggerated importance on the person of the Buddha, with a veneration
1 Peter Harvey states, “As ‘Buddha’ does not refer to a unique individual, Buddhism is less focused on the person of its founder than is, for example, Christianity.” Harvey (1990), p. 1.
that manifests as attachment to the personality of the Buddha, would be an obstacle on the path towards enlightenment. Notwithstanding, the life of Gautama Buddha is regarded as vital for the example it conveys and the lessons it imparts for following the path to enlightenment.
What we know of the life of Gautama Buddha is largely a matter of legend. Scriptures providing details of his life were written after he died, and a canonical account of the Buddha’s life was developed in the first two centuries after his death. Also, the information we have of the Buddha’s life, including scriptural accounts, has been handed down through many a telling and retelling. This is the basis we have for an understanding of his life, but it is often difficult to separate what is fact from what is myth. It is clear that much has been embellished and mythologized in the accounts of the Buddha’s life. As Thomas states,
“The only firm ground from which we can start is not history, but the fact that a legend in a definite form existed in the first and second cen-turies after the Buddha’s death.”1 There is good historical evidence that the Buddha was a real figure, but again some aspects of his life have been added upon or embellished, and this varies depending upon the source. Nevertheless, despite variation, a fairly canonical account of the life story of the Buddha does exist. While historical accuracy may not be available, the ability of the Buddha’s life story to convey key principles of Buddhism – its pedagogic value – remains. This is a story of enlighten-ment, and an education in the method for reaching enlightenment.
The Early Life
‘Siddhartha’ is thought to have been a personal name of Gautama Buddha. Gautama Buddha is also known as Sakyamuni Buddha. ‘Muni’
means sage, and Sakya was an area at the foothills of the Himalayas where his father was said to have ruled. Sakyamuni thus means sage of the Sakyan clan. Hereon we will refer to him as Gautama when speaking
1 Thomas (1949), p. 2.
of him prior to his experience of enlightenment, and ‘Gautama Buddha’
or just ‘Buddha’ or ‘the Buddha’ after his alleged enlightenment.
The date of birth of the Buddha is thought to be around 486 BCE. This date is an educated stab, more likely to be wrong than right as a specific date, but does serve well in providing a rough approxima-tion.1 He is said to have left home when he was twenty-nine, achieved enlightenment at the age of thirty-five, and died at the age of eighty.
It is said that Gautama was born an aristocrat and a prince, the son of a great king. Some details in the Buddha’s life, as commonly depicted, are clearly not accurate history, for example miraculous and superhu-man feats (such as being able to speak at birth). This also applies to the widely held claim that Gautama Buddha was the son of a great king of the Sakyas. This could not have been since, as Williams says, “We know that his clan of the Sakyas had no king.”2 As Gethin notes, in portray-ing Gautama as what we would call a kportray-ing, “the tradition is effectively recording little more than he was, in European cultural terms, a member of a locally important aristocratic family.”3 Portraying the Gautama as a prince, who lived in luxurious palaces with servants to cater to his every whim conveys to us that, in material terms, Gautama had all that he could ask for.
According to legend, Gautama’s mother, Maya, had a dream that a white elephant entered into her from her right side. Brahmin priests predicted from this, and from thirty-two subtle but significant bodily signs found on Gautama’s infant body, that he would become a “great man.” More specifically, it was predicted that Maya’s child would either become a great conquering king, or a spiritual leader of great conse-quence. Gautama’s father, Suddhodana, did not want a priestly life for his son; he did not want his son to become a holy man. Instead, he wanted him to follow in his own footsteps, and become a commander and a warrior. And so, as legend has it, Gautama’s father did his utmost to steer his son away from this spiritual fate by shielding him from certain
1 C.f. Williams (2000), p. 24.
2 Williams (2000), p. 26.
3 Gethin (1998), p. 15. See also Williams (2000), p. 26.
troubles of life that might, were he to encounter them, lead him to take up this spiritual path.
According to this legend, Gautama was intentionally kept away from all sights of suffering. He was intentionally deceived by his father about the inescapable troubles and maladies in the world. His father did this to ensure that his son would not fall into a concern for the suffering of humanity, and from this be inspired to take up the path of a spiritual leader. Everything was done to promote a view of life as undying, young and fresh. Gautama was attended to by good looking and youthful ser-vants, male and female. He ate delicious food. Anyone who became ill was taken away. Dirt, dead flowers, and decay were swept away. The Buddha, later in life, is reported to have described his luxuriant palace life to his disciples:
I was delicate, O monks, extremely delicate, excessively delicate.
In my father’s dwelling lotus-pools had been made, in one blue lotuses, in another red, in another white, all for my sake. I used no sandalwood that was not of Benares, my dress was of Benares cloth, my tunic, my under-robe, my cloak. Night and day a white parasol was held over me so that I should not be touched by cold or heat, by dust or weeds or dew. I had three palaces, one for the cold sea-son, one for the hot, and one for the season of rains. Through the four rainy months, in the palace for the rainy season, entertained by female minstrels I did not come down from the palace …1
The legend continues that one day, at the age of twenty-nine, he wanted to leave the palace in order to see what was outside On some accounts, this was done with the acquiescence of his father, but only after his father had set a path (which was cleaned of decay), from which Gautama then veered. On more common accounts, he left of his own accord, with the compliance of his chariot driver, and without his father’s knowledge. Either way, it is said that he ventured out of the 1 Anguttara Nikaya i 145, as quoted in Thomas (1949), p. 47.
palace four times, before ultimately leaving for good, and that each time he witnessed a “sign.”
The Four Signs
The first time out he saw an old man. The encounter with this first sign – an old man, and the king’s response to his son’s encounter is described thus:
[The man was] worn out with old age, with broken teeth, grey hair, bent, with broken down body, a stick in his hand, and trem-bling … [Gautama] asked his charioteer … “what man is this?
Even his hair is not like that of others,” and on hearing his reply said, “woe to birth, when the old age of one that is born shall be known.” With agitated heart he thereupon returned and ascended his palace. The king asked why his son had returned so quickly.
“O king, he has seen an old man, and on seeing an old man he will leave the world.” “By this you are ruining me. Get together danc-ing girls for my son. If he enjoys luxury, he will have no thoughts of leaving the world.” And so saying he increased the guards, and set them in all directions to the distance of a league.1
On the second trip outside the palace he encountered a sick man.
Again a similar scenario ensued. Gautama asked why he appeared the way he did and his driver explained that he was sick and what it meant to be sick. Gautama asked whether he too may become sick and the driver said yes, that we are all liable to get sick. Gautama once again returned, troubled, to the palace.
On the third trip outside the palace Gautama saw a shrouded corpse attended by a crowd of mourners. He asked his driver what was going on and the driver said that the shrouded person had died. He asked his 1 Mahapadana Sutta, Digha Nikaya ii 22 & 23, as quoted in Thomas (1949), p. 52.
driver whether the same would happen to him and the driver said yes, eventually, we all will die. And again, Gautama returned to the palace troubled and unnerved.
On the fourth trip outside his palace he encountered a man with shaven head, saffron robes, and a calm demeanour. He asked his driver who this was and the driver said “One who has gone forth.”1 Gautama wanted to know more and so spoke to the man about what it means to
“go forth.” The monk responded that he has gone forth from normal societal life to lead a life in truth, goodness, compassion and contempla-tion. The serenity of this ascetic monk impressed Gautama very much.
While the first three signs are associated with suffering, the fourth is a sign of the potential for a release from suffering. With the peaceful demeanour of the “one who has gone forth,” despite the obvious and inevitable sorrows and troubles of daily life, there is a sign of the pos-sibility of a release from suffering through a spiritual life. It was this sign that ultimately led Gautama to leave behind his luxuriant life and lead a simpler, ascetic life. Gautama doesn’t yet fully know what is involved in
“going forth” – he receives no specific teachings – but he is nonetheless moved by the physical demeanour and comportment of the monk. He is moved by his expression of peace and serenity in the midst of a troubled world, seeming quite different from the expressions of anxiousness and licentiousness displayed in neglect of a troubled world.
The king tried to maintain a certain lifestyle for Gautama by shielding him from all sights of sickness, old age, and death, but it is very unlikely that Gautama would not have ever encountered any of this, to that point, of twenty-nine years. We would think that he must himself have been sick at some point. He must at some point have witnessed or felt pain, discomfort and distress. But the point of this life story, or at least of this aspect, is not its historical veracity but its symbolic and pedagogic value.
It is a story of clear contrasts, between a luxuriant life in which the sight of suffering is kept at bay and, in its next step, a life of ascetic deprivation in which Gautama wilfully takes on hardship rather than unknowingly 1 Mahapadana Sutta, Digha Nikaya ii 28.
avoiding it. As we will see in the next chapter, the “Middle” path that Gautama is ultimately led to is rendered all the clearer for these contrast-ing lifestyles.
Sickness, old age, and death are signs that led Gautama to find an alternative path in life. They are thought of as paradigmatic examples of suffering and also, importantly, inevitable examples. Sickness is, for most if not all, an inevitable feature of life at some time. Old age, unless one dies young, is also inevitable (and aging is inevitable for all, young and old). And death is truly inevitable for all mortals. This inevitability is emphasized to Gautama in each of his first three trips outside the palace walls by his charioteer, and each time this inevitability upsets Gautama. The luxuriant life in the palace is meant to respond to these paradigms of suffering by keeping them in abeyance, outside the walls of the palace. It is a life that tries to attain bliss through enforced ignorance of the inevitable. This life signifies a certain approach to dealing with life’s difficulties: indulgence in comfort while keeping the troubles of life out of sight and thereby, hopefully, out of mind. But once Gautama realizes the inevitability of sickness, old age and death, his ignorance is shed, and he realizes that his palace life does not provide a true remedy.
The palace life offers a temporary reprieve at best. Once knowledge of the temporariness of this reprieve, and of the inevitability of sickness, old age, and death are gained, the palace life cannot keep the realities of life in abeyance anymore, no matter how high the walls. Gautama cannot return to his earlier ignorance.
These paradigmatic and inevitable examples of suffering lead Gautama to abandon his palace life. It is telling that Gautama recognizes their inevitability, and is very troubled by it, but still decides to leave. It is tell-ing because Gautama already realizes that overcomtell-ing suffertell-ing cannot involve overcoming the experiences of old age, sickness and death (for again, these are inescapable). A luxuriant palace life may offer comfort, as long as one can keep these eventualities out of mind, but not a rem-edy. But neither does any life outside the palace walls offer a remrem-edy. In leaving the palace, Gautama chooses against a life of comfort as the best way to deal with the inevitabilities of sickness, old age and death. He
leaves to find a way to be at peace with these inevitabilities. Gautama’s palace life was likely as good an attempt as possible to evade old age, sickness, and death. Since he leaves the palace to find a way to overcome suffering, he must believe that old age, sickness and death are not really suffering in themselves. Or at least, they are not the suffering he means to overcome. He realizes, or is beginning to realize, that it is his desires to never be old, get sick and die that need attending. In line with the Indian tradition as discussed in the previous chapter, Gautama is making an important connection between desire and suffering. It would be one thing to leave the palace to find a cure for old age, sickness and death, for this would be quite an exchange. But he left knowing he would find no cure for old age, sickness and death. Instead, he left to find a cure for his heart’s agitation at the prospect of inevitable old age, sickness and death.
The end of suffering that he seeks is the end of this agitation of his heart.
One approach to avoid suffering from old age, sickness and death is to seek to transcend human mortality – to become a deity of a sort.
And there are stories of the Buddha that portray him as a deity (with supra-human abilities to suit). Another approach is to seek to not be troubled by, and in this way not suffer from, one’s mortality. When Gautama encounters the “one who has gone forth,” the fourth sign, he encounters someone who, by all appearances, is still subject to old age, sickness and death. But, despite these inevitabilities, he retains a calm and peaceful nature. He is untroubled by his mortality. It is this fourth sign that moves Gautama to follow suit, and this says something about the understanding of suffering to come. Namely, suffering is not equated with pain, old age, sickness or death. Rather, suffering results from one’s attitude towards these inevitabilities; it is a result of one’s attachment or cravings to never be sick, get old, and die. As a consequence, overcoming suffering requires overcoming deeply set cravings and attachments, and this in turn requires self-discipline and control. And so Gautama sets out on a journey to better understand suffering, and to lead a life of greater discipline and denial than he had previously led in his luxuriant palace life. The following passage conveys the Buddha’s reflections, at this junc-ture before leaving the palace, on old age:
Then, O monks, did I, endowed with such majesty and such exces-sive delicacy, think thus, “an ignorant, ordinary person, who is himself subject to old age, not beyond the sphere of old age, on seeing an old man is troubled, ashamed, and disgusted, extending the thought to himself. I too am subject to old age, not beyond the sphere of old age, and should I, who am subject to old age, not beyond the sphere of old age, on seeing an old man be troubled, ashamed, and disgusted?” This seemed to me not fitting. As I thus reflected on it, all the elation in youth utterly disappeared.1
This passage is followed by similar passages concerning sickness and death. Note that the Buddha recounts here that it is not fitting for him to be “troubled, ashamed, and disgusted” at the sight of an old man, in particular when aging is also inevitable for him. Again, the implication is not that he should not be made to grow old, but that he should not be troubled by the prospect of becoming old, and he is upset with himself for this. Gautama is questioning the nature of his desire (in this case, his desire to not grow old), and is coming to realize that it is not by satisfy-ing his desire that he will obtain success, but by quellsatisfy-ing his desire.
And so, as legend has it, after having seen the fourth sign, and the possibility it seemed to convey of a peaceful life, Gautama at the age of twenty-nine made a decision to leave his palace life. In leaving, it is said he left behind his wife and child. At the age of sixteen he was married, as was the custom for an Indian nobleman of this age. His wife’s name was
And so, as legend has it, after having seen the fourth sign, and the possibility it seemed to convey of a peaceful life, Gautama at the age of twenty-nine made a decision to leave his palace life. In leaving, it is said he left behind his wife and child. At the age of sixteen he was married, as was the custom for an Indian nobleman of this age. His wife’s name was