Queen Lolo
June 09, 2005
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 August 12, 2007 04:30 AM