The Story of Siddhārtha
Cobbling together the history of the Buddha
Introduction
Yesterday I posted the story of Siddhārtha, the Buddha, to Twitter. I had to look up some of the names like Channa, the divine charioteer, and I researched a little to make sure I wasn’t completely off-piste from traditional tellings with my rendition of the Buddha’s death (Parinirvana) but otherwise it was done from memory. I’ve brought the tweets together below after this introduction.
People raised in a Judeo-Christian context - as I assume most readers were - see the world as a progression of history. A story that moves from one fact to the next where there is, at least potentially, a “correct” way of recounting events.
This historical sense was won with great struggle. It began with the earliest compilation of the Torah and continued to grow through the development of the modern Bible. The idea of a “secular” history finally growing out of this fertile soil.
In particular in the context of religion we think about the life of Jesus as this kind of history. There is a canonical telling of who Jesus was in the Bible that develops a clear narrative corroborated by multiple, mostly aligned, contemporary witnesses. With this foundation there is little dispute over facts or additional myth making that can occur. The person of Jesus has been fixed in time. It’s one reason, among many others, why this scene from Talladega Nights is so absurd:
Like Jesus, the Buddha was almost certainly a historical person. However, unlike the saints, prophets and divine elements of the abrahamic traditions the narrative of the Buddha’s life has no canonical telling.
From a purely secular ‘scientific’ lens there are of course many texts of varying repute which we could point to as the oldest renditions of the story. However, for Buddhists none of these has ever gained the cachet that the Bible has of being the authoritative telling.
Instead of historical facts there are motifs, through repetition these have become the tent poles that the narrative hangs off of.
For example, there is the point where Siddhārtha sees the four sights: old age, sickness, death and a wandering ascetic and determines that he will seek our spiritual enlightenment. Some narratives have the sights happen in very different ways. Osamu Tezuka’s Buddha escapes from the palace as a child and for him the sights are more like the accumulated memories of growing up and coming to recognise the difficulties of the world. It’s a completely different aesthetic to the idea of Channa driving the Buddha out to see the sights for the first time but it still works. He is recognisably the Buddha in both. If the story didn’t include the element though it just wouldn’t make sense.
As a result of this every person has their own narrative of the life of Buddha cobbled together from various sources and tellings including the elements that most stick out to them. The story below is that version for me.
There are a couple things I would ideally like to change if I wrote it again. For one I’ve used Sanskrit names. The earliest Buddhist texts are actually written in Pali (Nibbāna vs. Nirvāna) and I personally find the sounds to be somewhat smoother as well as potentially more ‘accurate’.
I would also have loved to include more of the stories from the time following the Buddha’s enlightenment when he was teaching. This time I felt my telling was already getting long and I wouldn’t be able to add them effectively so left them out. On a second go around though there are two in particular that I would include.
First, I would talk about Siddhārtha’s wife and son, Rāhula, joining the community of monks. Siddhārtha’s initial renunciation of his family is fundamental to understanding his arc. Yet, if he had not then actively returned to that same family in some way following his enlightenment it would feel - to me - like his victory was incomplete.
Second, I would add the story of the flower sermon. It’s not my version but this is a wonderful telling:
Toward the end of his life, the Buddha took his disciples to a quiet pond for instruction. As they had done so many times before, the Buddha’s followers sat in a small circle around him, and waited for the teaching.
But this time the Buddha had no words. He reached into the muck and pulled up a lotus flower. And he held it silently before them, its roots dripping mud and water.
The disciples were greatly confused. Buddha quietly displayed the lotus to each of them. In turn, the disciples did their best to expound upon the meaning of the flower: what it symbollized, and how it fit into the body of Buddha’s teaching.
When at last the Buddha came to his follower Mahakasyapa, the disciple suddenly understood. He smiled and began to laugh. Buddha handed the lotus to Mahakasyapa and began to speak.
“What can be said I have said to you,” smiled the Buddha, “and what cannot be said, I have given to Mahakashyapa.”
From a lens of historicity this wasn’t part of the first set of Buddhist texts. It is believed to have only been added over a thousand years later by Chinese Buddhists as part of their new history of Zen. However, for me I think that actually makes it a crucial part of the overall story. That elements like this can still be added gets to the crux of why the Buddha’s story is so powerful. To me it also illustrates the message of the story as simply as you can manage - something that ties it altogether.
The Story of Siddhārtha
Siddhārtha was born as the royal heir to the kingdom of Gautama in modern day Nepal.
His mother became aware of her pregnancy when she had a dream that a great white elephant flew into her side. She knew the child would become a special person. Tragically she died in childbirth so she never was able to see the life he lived.
When Siddhārtha was a child, a wise man foretold that he would either be a ‘wheel turning’ king who would create the largest empire ever seen; or, he would become a mendicant, a great spiritual master, who would achieve ultimate enlightenment.
Siddhārtha’s father was scared of the ascetic prophesy so he created a pleasure palace for Siddhārtha filled with gold, music & women anything that could be desired. The king reasoned that surrounded by these treasures Siddhārtha would never want to give up the life of a ruler.
Growing up Siddhārtha glowed. He was a skilled archer and martial artist, he ran rings around his tutors in philosophy, charmed every woman, was as kind a person as you could hope to meet, and his skin literally shone!
One day as a young man, Siddhārtha - already married and with a son Rāhula - went to his charioteer Channa. He asked him “What is it like outside the palace walls?”
Channa demurred and told him not to bother with that. However, Siddhārtha was insistent and he convinced Channa to take him out beyond the walls the next morning at daybreak.
With the sun just rising over the horizon they went driving through town. After a little while they came across an old man walking with a cane by the side of the road.
Siddhārtha (who had never seen an old person before) thought this was such a funny sight. The man must be playing a game. So, he got down from the chariot and started imitating him, hobbling with the cane.
Channa shouted at him: “What are you doing Siddhārtha?! He’s an old man.”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh… well… Siddhārtha after some time everyone gets old and their body becomes more frail.”
“Will that happen to me?”
“Even to you Siddhārtha.”
Siddhārtha was shocked. Channa took him back to the palace. He tried to forget what he had seen but he was racked with anxiety. Every few hours he would go to the mirror to see if had had developed any wrinkles or gray hairs.
Nothing in the palace, full of treasures as it was, could ease his worries. He fretted & fretted. Eventually he returned to Channa, saying, “There must be more out there, take me out again.” Again Channa tried to convince him against it but he insisted and they left at dawn.
Riding down the road they saw the same old man again. This time though, he was sitting down exhausted. He was clearly coughing, there was some bloody spittle at the side of his mouth and a large boil on his neck. Everyone else on the road was avoiding him.
Again Siddhārtha was intrigued. He’d never seen anything like this before. He jumped off the chariot and went to poke the boil with a stick thinking it must be a strange kind of ornament.
“Siddhārtha!” Channa shouted “What are you doing? Can’t you see this man is sick?”
“Sick? What does that mean?”
“Oh… Siddhārtha… being sick is when your body gets an illness and starts to fail. It is very painful and sometimes other people around you can also get sick”
“Can I get sick?”
“Yes, even you can get sick Siddhārtha”
Siddhārtha was devastated. “Take me home Channa…”
Back at the palace his fears amplified. The slightest ailment of his body set off a cascade of anxieties about the most horrific sickness. He could no longer enjoy the company of others, even his wife, for fears of disease. Again he went back to Channa.
“Channa there must be more please take me out again”
Now Channa was scared to take him out and told him no, but Siddhārtha would not take no for an answer. So, at dawn the next day they set out again.
This time they saw the old man lying at the side of the road. His body was stiff and cold and there were women and children standing next to him wailing and beating their chests.
Siddhārtha asked “What is going on there?”
“Well… Siddhārtha… that old man… he’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“When people get old and get sick eventually their body gets too frail and their life departs.”
“Will this happen to me?”
“Even to you Siddhārtha.”
“Take me home Channa.”
Siddhārtha didn’t know what to do and he lay in the palace all day in a deep depression.
If all this would come to nothing. If he and all other people were bound to become old, get sick, and die then what was the point of any of it?
Channa was dismayed by this state. He wanted to help so he went to Siddhārtha and said:
“Maybe there is something more, let me take you out again.”
“What more could there be?”
“I don’t know but maybe we can raise your spirits.”
So, the next morning at daybreak, they went out.
This time as they were going down the road they saw a new man. He was dressed in orange robes walking with a begging bowl. As people walked by he stopped them to ask for alms. Siddhārtha asked “what is that man doing?”
Channa said “He is a mendicant, he has given up on worldly goods to seek a spiritual path.”
In that moment Siddhārtha knew. He said: “I will become a mendicant.”
Siddhārtha went home. His wife and son were sleeping. He looked at them for a long time, with love in his eyes and in his heart, then he slipped out of the house.
Channa drove him to a forest at the edge of the city. There he took off his clothes and waded into a pool of water until he was fully submerged. When he got out of the pool he shaved his head and took a set of sheets he had brought from the palace and fashioned a robe.
He thanked Channa and sent him back to the palace to tell the others of his new path. Then he set out into the forest. In this way - at the age of twenty nine - he began his life as an ascetic.
Siddhārtha went looking for mendicants who could show him the way to live the life of a spiritual master. He met many powerful gurus from whom he learned the secrets of ritual, fasting, mental powers and meditation.
However, none were able to solve the fundamental dilemma. Freedom from the horrible cycle of birth and death that made a mockery of human life.
Eventually Siddhārtha was led to a group of mendicants that believed they could hone their spiritual powers to the ultimate and find freedom through the most severe self-discipline.
The five mendicants would eat nothing each day but a handful of rice and would practice extreme austerities like never lying down or walking through thorny grasses barefoot until their soles were bloody.
Siddhārtha joined this group of monks. He practiced harder than any of them. He lost so much weight that you could see every single one of his ribs in front and behind.
After practicing in this way for years Siddhārtha was exhausted and on the edge of starvation. One morning, while he was going to the local river to perform his daily rituals, he collapsed.
He would have died in that position, lying on the ground, but Sujātā, a girl from a nearby village, happened to be passing by. She saw Siddhārtha's condition and took pity on him. She rushed back to her house and brought a porridge of milk and rice that she helped him to eat.
As Siddhārtha ate he regained his strength. When he had finished he asked Sujātā for another bowl. When he finished the second bowl he began again to glow as in his youth. He thanked Sujātā.
Siddhārtha realised the path he had been following would not lead to enlightenment. He had to find a middle way between self-mortification & self-indulgence. Walking back through the forest he happened across a beautiful fig tree. He sat down under the tree & began to meditate.
As he meditated he entered a deep state of absorption. He was beset by terrible fears, anger and desires, the armies of Māra - the devil. However, at every turn due to his deep meditation he was able to overcome these forces.
He sat under the tree until day turned to night and night began to break into day.
As the sun started to come over the horizon the golden rays fell on Siddhārtha's brow and he found what he had been seeking. Nirvāna - complete enlightenment.
Siddhārtha was free from the cycles of birth and death.
He was now the Buddha - the one who is awake.
Siddhārtha remained seated under the tree. The thought came to him that he could stay like this forever enjoying Nirvāna. However, an impulse deep inside convinced him that this was not the way.
After a few more hours of coursing through the infinite Siddhārtha opened his eyes and began to walk back towards the village. On his way he came across the five monks that he had previously been practicing with.
At first they were distrustful, they saw that he had eaten food and believed that he had abandoned their path. However, there was something compelling in his manner that they could not understand.
Eventually they sat down and Siddhārtha talked to them about what had happened. This was the first teaching of the Buddha - a Dharma talk - where he laid out the key principles of what he had learned.
The five monks became Siddhārtha's first followers. Over the next fifty years Siddhārtha continued to walk around modern day Nepal and Northern India delivering talks, attracting followers to his way, and helping people to deal with the suffering of their daily life.
After his many years of sojourning and having gathered a large group of monks, many of whom likewise attained enlightenment, Siddhārtha was staying as the guest of a king in a Northern kingdom.
The king had prepared a meal for the monks and brought many plates.
Among these dishes were some pieces of meat. Siddhārtha - now an old man over eighty years old and close to death - could see that this meat was diseased. However, a monk is never allowed to reject the alms that they are offered.
So, uncharacteristically, Siddhārtha asked the congregation that only he be allowed to eat from those plates that contained the meat. He and the monks ate the meal. The next day Siddhārtha was very ill, he had bloody diarrhoea and became exceedingly tired.
Siddhārtha knew that his time was close. The monks that followed him wept and were deeply saddened but Siddhārtha was calm.
Siddhārtha laid down with his head resting on his arm, the trees around where he laid, although it was out of season, bloomed with beautiful flowers. He talked to those gathered and told them not to worry, to remember what he had taught them.
Finally Siddhārtha said: "Remember monks, all compounded things are impermanent. Strive diligently."
Then Siddhārtha passed away.
Our records of Siddhārtha come primarily from one of his followers, Ānanda. After many years of following Siddhārtha, Ānanda became his main attendant. He was close to Siddhārtha for every major talk and moment in his journeys.
After Siddhārtha's death there was a gathering of monks at the first Buddhist council to try and preserve Siddhārtha's teachings. Ānanda had a prodigious memory and was able to report the teachings nearly perfectly, capturing most of what we have today.
There are many stories from this time including over 10,000 sutras that record the talks that Siddhārtha gave stretching for many thousands of pages.
The monks that followed Siddhārtha would continue to treasure and cultivate these teachings. They developed many rich Buddhist traditions that have flourished in Asia from modern day Sri Lanka to Japan and today across whole world.
This is the story of the life of Siddhārtha - the Buddha 🙏
