Once upon a time, a certain gentleman of royal breeding got fed up with the good life and headed out into the big wide world to find himself. Although this handsome young prince had a fine young wife and an adorable newborn son, he didn’t let that stop him from pulling the the old "ta ta and see you around" routine.
That’s the third part of Act One of Buddha’s story. And it’s the part that's always been problematic for me.
You see, I have trouble mustering up compassion for a guy who dumps his family in favor of self-reflection. Perhaps that’s my problem, not his. In any case, this skeleton in Siddhartha’s royal closet puts a slight damper on my enthusiasm and makes him less a little less likable in my book. It's one of those great unresolved questions for me: How could our beloved Buddha have started out a self-indulgent deadbeat dad?
Then the other day, I found an answer that works for me. In quite a few ways.
It came from “Buddhism For Mothers,” a wonderful book by Sarah Napthali. In the very last paragraph of the book, Sarah writes:
“As mothers, what can we make of that story of the Buddha leaving his family in the middle of the night? I asked Fu Schroeder. ‘Oh, but he wasn’t the Buddha when he left his child. He was a young prince, in terrible pain,’ she answered. ‘If you’re awake, you don’t leave your child. Where would you go?’”
I love this explanation for so many reasons. First, because it reminds me to have compassion for human behavior that appears less than ideal. We all do stupid stuff. Intentionally or not, we all act in ways that hurt others, even those we truly love the most. Even Buddha did, on his way to enlightenment. And in the longrun, there is always the remote possibility that something jerky could end up being of great value for eternity. Just something to keep in mind the next time you mess up, or someone you love pulls a fast one.
Second, the explanation reminds me that most behavior comes from positive intent. Siddhartha wanted to find the answer to true happiness. Nothing wrong with that. It helps me be more compassionate when I remember that even the nastiest behavior is a poorly-executed attempt to meet a basic human need. (Marshall Rosenberg, the founder of “Non-Violent Communication” has authored numerous books on this subject that are well worth reading.)
Finally, the last four words in the question posed by Fu Schroder at the end of the explanation offer the greatest reminder of all. “If you’re awake, you don’t leave... Where would you go?”
Yes indeed. Where would you go? There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. You can't escape yourself, and whatever you're looking for is right here anyway. It's inside your head, your heart, and your own back yard. As Dorothy said, "There's no place like home." So take off your shoes and stay awhile.
It's like the story I once read about a student observing his teacher, a Tibetan Buddhist monk. They had finished a class and the teacher went out to the sidewalk to wait for a taxi that was due to arrive. The student watched from inside the building, and began to worry as time passed and no cab appeared. As the minutes ticked by, his teacher simply stood on the sidewalk and waited calmly, without impatience or frustration. The student grew increasingly concerned about the time, while the teacher just stood peacefully and happy on the sidewalk.
Finally, the student came out and approached his teacher. “You’ve been standing here for 30 mintues waiting. Why aren't you getting upset?" he asked.
"Why should I get upset?" asked his teacher in surprise. "I'm not going anywhere."
The monk knew that where ever you go -- there you are. No matter how far we run, we're not going anywhere at all. And even though I have days when I crave solitude and dream of long stretches of quiet meditation, I know that for me, there's more material for spiritual growth in the midst of family life than on a mountaintop. Surrounded by personalities and chaos and bills and hugs and kisses and dust and laundry and strawberry smoothies and skinned knees and bad moods and so much love you can't imagine... there's no escaping the moment-to-moment, endless opportunity to face myself, to genuinely experience the law of cause and effect, to care for others, and to truly live my practice, with nowhere to hide. (Unless you're my dog, then there's that cozy spot under the bed where no one can reach you.)
So what do you think? Could Siddhartha have done it without leaving home? Or would his princely duties and all the royal temptations have gotten in his way? What about YOU? Does "real life" contribute to or hold you back from your spiritual practice? Given the chance, how would you really like to live and practice?
Posted by at June 9, 2005 11:42 PM I also thought the Buddha wasn't a "family values" type of guy. I also questioned the value of a band of men who meditated and begged for food.
I think that the reason things happened along these lines is in that society that was the way to be respected as an authority, to leave your family and live as a beggar with a religious calling.
I think it's wrong for people to live that way and be granted more respect for doing so. It may have been the accepted way then, but I think it was wrong then as well as now.
one great reason
Posted by: one great reason at June 10, 2005 09:16 AMFirst of all, I don't think Siddhartha was a "deadbeat dad" in our modern sense of the term. I doubt seriously if his wife and child had to stand in line at a WIC center for food, or live in infested public housing, or if they lacked for basic necessities. They were royalty, fer cryin'out loud!
Having said that, no, I don't think he could have done it without leaving home. Remember, his father the king had been told that Siddhartha would either be a great king or an enlightened one. No middle of the road. One or the other. The king would have done everything he could - dancing girls, wine, wars, you name it, to distract Siddhartha and keep him "on track" to inherit the kingdom. Dads who want to leave the business to their sons can really pull out all the stops to keep those plans in line. It's a macho ego thing.
Given the chance, I think that sole ownership of a Caribbean island would be most conducive to my personal enlightenment. I would settle for Greece. Byrd in LA
Posted by: Byrd in LA at June 10, 2005 02:29 PMThank you so much Queen Lolo. You have solved one of my great problems in one sentence! I try my best to share the Wonderful Dharma with others but I find myself struggling to make excuses for Nichiren on many occasions and, quite often, for Shakyamuni on this very question. The sentence I shall be quoting henceforth is ‘Oh, but he wasn’t the Buddha when he left his child. He was a young prince, in terrible pain,’
BTW I love your blog
Sarnian
Posted by: Sarnian at June 11, 2005 03:36 AMI enjoyed your article.
I have heard this criticism of Shakyamuni before, “How could he abandon his family”, but I have never heard him called a deadbeat dad.
Would it make a difference to know that it is only in the past 200 years that Love has become the basis of marriage? Up until about 200 years ago marriage was strictly about building alliances between families and countries, and maintaining property rights. In fact, it had nothing to do with love or romance. Romantic relationships were expected to take place outside of the marriage. Love was considered a foolish basis for marriage, and marriage based on emotion was discouraged. Marriage was an institution that was the glue that bound together communities, nations and their economies—to base the order of society on something as tentative and fragile as Love was considered insanity.
While times have changed the institution of marriage, there is no validity to this criticism directed at Shakyamuni. He was guilty of no moral or societal fault in this matter at the time of his historical existence.
On the other topic, I agree, there is nowhere to run. The upside is that wherever I go, I take myself with me, so I can dress anyway that I want to, and I will always be welcome.
Posted by: chikushonin 智倶諸人 at June 11, 2005 01:19 PMQueen:
I, too, enjoyed this blog. My take on Shakyamuni leaving his wife, child, and birth right behind is that if he didn't do so, there would be no Buddhism. Both his wife, son, and maternal aunt were all able to receive the prophecy of enlightenment. Even his father, who would made him king at any cost, embraced the dharma.
From my viewpoint, what was a sad experience for his family was transformed into a reality far more wonderful than a continued life of luxury and family bliss. His loved ones were able to trade the transient aspect of happiness and security for enlightenment.
In retrospect, he did what he had to do to save humanity. I have never had a problem with what he did because it all worked out for his family and for mankind.
Charles
Posted by: Charles at June 11, 2005 02:29 PMThanks Queen, I have been thinking about this one myself lately. I would put my family first before going off to see what everything is all about. Thank you Buddha for doing what you did so we don't have to leave our families to attain what you attained. Dave in ks.
Posted by: Dave Halverson at June 12, 2005 08:34 PM"One Great Reason" points out an important part of the story that has been overlooked over time...during Shakyamuni's time it was common for men to run off and contemplate their navels while leaving their wives and children in the care of the family. Actually, what Shakyamuni did was not that extraordinary. What he did with a cultural norm is what is extraordinary; he found the middle-way. Remember, too, that his son became one of his disciples, so apparently there wasn't too much resentment there.
Posted by: NichieGuy at June 13, 2005 07:33 AM