A Meditator’s Life of the Buddha

I recollect that, a long time ago, being at home with my father Suddhodana, I would spend the four months of the summer season up in the main mansion without any other men, with only women for my entertainment. From the beginning [of this period onwards] I would not come down. When [after that time] I wanted to go out and visit parks, thirty renowned horsemen were selected to mount carriages and escort me in front and at the rear, to attend and follow my lead, not to mention others [who were attending on me]. I had power like this, being of such superbly delicate [upbringing].²

I also recollect that, a long time ago, I saw field workers who were taking a rest in their fields. I went under a rose-apple tree and sat down cross-legged. Secluded from sensual pleasures, secluded from evil and unwholesome states, with [directed] awareness and [sustained] contemplation,3 with joy and happiness born of seclusion, I attained the first absorption and dwelled in it.⁴

I thought: “Uninstructed ignorant worldlings, who are themselves subject to disease and not exempt from disease, are disgusted and humiliated on seeing other people who are sick, which is not wanted and not enjoyable.⁵ They do not examine themselves.”

I further thought: “I am myself subject to disease and not exempt from disease. If I were to be disgusted and humiliated on seeing other people who are sick, which is not wanted and not enjoyable, then that would not be proper for me, because I am also subject to this.” Having examined it in this way, the conceit that arises due to being without sickness ceased in turn on its own.

I further thought: “Uninstructed ignorant worldlings, who are themselves subject to old age and not exempt from old age, are disgusted and humiliated on seeing other people who are old, which is not wanted and not enjoyable. They do not examine themselves.”

I further thought: “I am myself subject to old age and not exempt from old age. If I were to be disgusted and humiliated on seeing other people who are old, which is not wanted and not enjoyable, then that would not be proper for me, because I am also subject to this.” Having examined it in this way, the conceit that arises due to [young] age ceased in turn on its own.

[I further thought: “Uninstructed ignorant worldlings, who are themselves subject to death and not exempt from death, are disgusted and humiliated on seeing other people who are dead, which is not wanted and not enjoyable. They do not examine themselves.”]

[I further thought: “I am myself subject to death and not exempt from death. If I were to be disgusted and humiliated on seeing other people who are dead, which is not wanted and not enjoyable, then that would not be proper for me, because I am also subject to this.” Having examined it in this way, the conceit that arises due to being alive ceased in turn on its own.]6

On being healthy, uninstructed ignorant worldlings are proud, conceited, and become negligent. Because of sensual desires, their ignorance grows and they do not cultivate the holy life.

On being young, uninstructed ignorant worldlings are proud, conceited, and become negligent. Because of sensual desires, their ignorance grows and they do not cultivate the holy life.

On being alive, uninstructed ignorant worldlings are proud, conceited, and become negligent. Because of sensual desires, their ignorance grows and they do not cultivate the holy life.

A substantial difference in relation to the early part of the passage translated above is that the Aṅguttara-nikāya discourse does not refer at all to the bodhisattva’s experience of the first absorption.⁷ I will return to this topic in Chapter 9.

Compared to the last part of the extract from the Madhyamaāgama version, which describes how ignorance grows on being healthy etc., the Aṅguttara-nikāya parallel is more detailed. It additionally notes that worldlings engage in evil conduct and for this reason are reborn in hell, and that monastics disrobe and return to the lower life, all of which the Pāli discourse reckons to be due to being intoxicated with being young, healthy, and alive.8

Alongside such differences, the Madhyama-āgama and Aṅguttara-nikāya versions agree closely in throwing into relief the contrast between the average worldling and the bodhisattva’s reaction to witnessing old age, disease, and death. A crucial difference here is that, whereas worldlings “do not examine themselves”, the bodhisattva realized his own vulnerability to becoming old and sick, and the certainty of having to pass away. He did not allow his present youth, health, and being alive to distract him from recognizing this state of affairs.

In later hagiography this basic insight finds expression in the legend according to which during pleasure outings the bodhisattva happened to see for the first time in his life a diseased and an old person, as well as someone dead.⁹ Alongside narrative embellishment leading to the implausible depiction of the bodhisattva as being up to that moment completely ignorant of these fundamental aspects of human life, the tale in a way serves to make the same point as the passage above. Confrontation with old age, disease, and death is what motivated the bodhisattva’s going forth. The same finds expression in the Ariyapariyesanā-sutta and its Madhyama-āgama parallel, in which the Buddha depicts his “noble quest” to freedom from these predicaments of human life. The relevant passage in the Madhyama-āgama version proceeds in this way:¹⁰

Formerly, when I had not yet awakened to supreme, right, and complete awakening, I further thought like this: “I am actually subject to disease myself and I naively search for what is subject to disease. I am actually subject to old age myself and I naively search for what is subject to old age. I am actually subject to death myself and I naively search for what is subject to death. I am actually subject to worry and sadness myself and I naively search for what is subject to worry and sadness. I am actually subject to defilement myself and I naively search for what is subject to defilement.

“What if I now rather search for the supreme peace of Nirvāṇa, which is free from disease, search for the supreme peace of Nirvāṇa, which is free from old age, search for the supreme peace of Nirvāṇa, which is free from death, search for the supreme peace of Nirvāṇa, which is free from worry and sadness, search for the supreme peace of Nirvāṇa, which is free from defilement?”

At that time I was a young lad, with clear [skin] and dark hair, in the prime of youth, twenty-nine years of age, roaming around well adorned and enjoying myself to the utmost. At that time I shaved off my hair and beard, while my father and mother were crying and my relatives were displeased. I put on monastic robes and went forth to leave the household life out of faith and to train in the path, maintaining purity of livelihood in body, and maintaining purity of livelihood in speech and in mind.

From the viewpoint of the modern-day living situation, particularly in the West, this might require some reflection in order to sink in fully. Hospital amenities, homes for the elderly, and the impressive degree to which death has been made as unnoticeable as possible can at times make it easy to overlook one’s basic vulnerability to these three predicaments of human life. Yet the occurrence of any disease serves as a reminder of the limitations of the human body.12 The only way to avoid old age is to die when still young, hardly an attractive solution. Conversely, with the full impact of old age the body can reach a condition where death becomes almost a relief. In dependent arising (paṭicca samuppāda), old age and death in fact form a compound, perhaps reflecting that either the one or the other, if not both, will certainly manifest. In fact, in a way old age is gradual dying. Contemplating the above, it becomes possible to allow the facts of old age, disease, and death to stand out in their full significance and thereby become a motivating force for directing one’s life in a way that takes these indubitable facts into account.

As a side note, it may be worth mentioning that the Ariyapariyesanā-sutta and its parallel both report that the bodhisattva’s mother cried when he went forth.¹³ This is to some extent unexpected, since according to tradition she passed away seven days after he was born.¹⁴ Closer study of other passages related to this issue makes it fairly probable that the above reference is to the Buddha’s foster mother, Mahāpajāpatī Gotamī.¹⁵

This passage is of interest not only because of the reference to the mother’s crying, at first sight puzzling, but also in so far as it shows that the motif of the bodhisattva’s secret departure at night is a later development of Buddhist hagiography, similar to the tale of his encounters with a sick and old person as well as a corpse. Instead of a secret departure at night, the above passage conveys the impression that he went forth with the knowledge of his parents and relatives, who reacted with displeasure and tears when he carried this out.¹⁶

These two hagiographic tales of the bodhisattva’s outings and his secret departure at night could have had their origin in pictorial depictions of his insight into the human predicament and his renunciation of sensual pleasures.17 The employment of a kind of canvas carried around to deliver teachings is already reflected in the early discourses, making it quite possible that such depictions could have been in use at a comparatively early time.¹⁸ On this assumption, such depictions might then have been taken literally by later generations.¹⁹

A poetic expression of the bodhisattva’s insight that spurred him to go forth can also be found in a few verses in the Attadaṇḍasutta, found in the Aṭṭhaka-vagga of the Sutta-nipāta. Of this part of the Sutta-nipāta, a Chinese parallel has been preserved, which proceeds as follows:²⁰

The whole world was [to me as if] all ablaze,²¹

All the ten directions [seemed to me] out of order and without peace.

Being conceited of themselves, they do not give up craving,

Because of lack of vision, they hold on to it with their ignorant minds.²²

Do not create the entanglement of being in quest for the darkness of dukkha!

I contemplated it all and my mind did not delight

In that which leads to suffering and pain. I saw the dart,

By becoming still, one sees what is challenging and is able to endure it.²³

Following this dart of pain, obstinately and without leaving it behind,

Cherishing this dart, one runs all over the world.

Honouring proper view, one pulls out the painful dart.

One’s tribulations are forgotten and one no longer runs [around].24

The first stanza brings out vividly the agitation caused by seeing the all-pervasiveness of old age, disease, and death, which according to an explanation given in the Niddesa is the implication of the reference to the different directions being in turmoil.²⁵ This stands in contrast to the conceit and ignorance depicted in the Madhyama-āgama passage translated at the outset of this chapter. The conceit of being young, healthy, and alive is inseparable from ignoring the inevitable fact of old age, disease, and death, an ignorance that provides the fertile soil for craving to grow.

The second stanza’s reference to a quest for the darkness of dukkha relates to the basic distinction drawn in the Ariyapariyesanāsutta and its Madhyama-āgama parallel between two type of quests, an ignoble one and a noble one. Needless to say, the noble quest is what motivated the Buddha to go forth, to remain still, as the verse says, instead of running around, thereby becoming able to see the challenging truth of dukkha and learn to endure it.

The third stanza again plays on the basic contrast also made in the other passages translated in this chapter. According to the Niddesa, the “dart” stands for lust, hatred, delusion, conceit, views, sorrow, and perplexity.²⁶ How to go about pulling out this dart will be the topic of the next chapters.

Based on such an extended scope of observation, the next step is to realize the inevitability of being ourselves subject to ageing, illness, and passing away. Given this inescapable predicament, how should we best formulate our own “noble quest”? In view of mortality and the vulnerability of this body to becoming old and sick, what is really worth dedicating ourselves to? How can we best prepare for facing these inevitable predicaments of human life? What would best be the central motivation that gives direction to our life and informs our daily activities and meditation practice? Engaging in such reflections can become a way of following the example of the Buddha-to-be.

1 The translated passage is taken from MĀ 117 at T I 607c25 to 608a18, parallel to AN 3.38 & AN 3.39 at AN I 145,14 (translated Bodhi 2012: 240f, referred to as discourse 39).

2 AN 3.38 at AN I 145,14 also mentions the spending of four months with only female companions, but does not refer to being escorted out to a park on an occasion which the context suggests took place after the four months of the summer. AN 3.38 additionally draws attention to the excellent food given even to workers and servants at Suddhodana’s home.

3 For a discussion of the significance of how the factors of the first absorption are rendered in the Madhyama-āgama, in comparison with their counterparts vitakka and vicāra in Pāli discourses, see Anālayo 2017b: 123ff.

6 The passage on death seems to have been lost in MĀ 117, hence I have supplemented it here. That this is a case of loss can be seen from the ensuing part, which clearly covers the three predicaments of disease, old age, and death. The same can also be seen in a set of verses that in MĀ 117 follows the part translated above, which at T I 608a20 begins with the line: “being subject to disease, being subject to old age, and being subject to death”. This makes it safe to conclude that the absence of the treatment of death in the present part of the discourse must be the result of an error of transmission. AN 3.38 does cover old age, disease, and death (in that sequence).

7 Here and elsewhere, the term “bodhisattva” refers to the Buddha during the period preceding his awakening and does not yet carry the connotations it came to have in later times.

10 The translated passage is taken from MĀ 204 at T I 776a26 to 776b5 (translated Anālayo 2012b: 25f), parallel to MN 26 at MN I 163,9 (translated Ñāṇamoli 1995/2005: 256); for a comparative study of this episode see also Anālayo 2011: 171–4.

13 The corresponding passage in a Sanskrit fragment parallel, 331r6, Liu 2010: 144, speaks of relatives in general who cried.

16 Vijitha 2015: 61 points out that, contrary to the traditional hagiographic account, “Siddhartha’s renunciation was not a secret. He renounced worldly life before his parents and relatives.”

17 Here I follow a suggestion made for the tale of the bodhisattva’s encounters by Weller 1928: 169.

19 Thomas 1927/2003: 58 concludes that “the story of the four visits to the park is only a historicising of a canonical passage which knows nothing of these events. The events have been merely built up out of the meditation on old age, sickness, and death. We find the same state of things in the story of the Renunciation.”

20 The verses are found in T 198 at T IV 189b16 to 189b21 (translated Bapat 1950: 80), parallel to Sn 937 to 939 (translated Bodhi 2017: 315). That these refer to the bodhisattva’s pre-awakening insight seems implied in T 198 at T IV 189b13 and Sn 935.

21 Instead of being ablaze, according to Sn 937 the whole world is without essence.

22 The second half of Sn 937 instead describes that, wishing for a dwelling place for himself, the bodhisattva did not see one that was not occupied.

23 Sn 938 proceeds quite differently; a common element is the idea of seeing a dart.

25 Nidd I 410,18, which adds that the same also stands for being subject to birth, impermanence, and dukkha.