They Called Him ‘Buddha’

Centuries ago a seeker, one who searches for a way beyond birth and death, was wandering through a remote valley of one of the many tributaries of the Ganges river. He had been wandering for six years and in the course of that time had studied under teachers, developed meditation and strengthened his considerable resolve.

Most recently he had been part of a group of six ascetics whose view was that the way to liberation opened through disregarding or suppressing the senses. Eating solid food was to be done begrudgingly, if at all; the body was to be chastised and its needs given no attention. In this, as in all his previous spiritual disciplines, the seeker excelled his companions. And yet … he knew that he had attained no superior state and gained no liberating wisdom.

At this critical point, reduced to a scrawny creature of little more than flaking skin and bone, he had left the group to intensify his practice in solitude. Finally he found a grove of trees and took up the sitting position at the root of a fig- tree, determined to sit in full awareness, mind bent on investigating whatever might arise in his consciousness.

His aim was to see if there could be a way through the shifting manifestations of thoughts, sensations and emotions — to discover whether there was some absolute and untrammelled state. Yet as he tried to apply himself, he found that his body was now too weak to even sustain sitting upright. Nor was his mind steady and clear.

Strained and driven only by willpower, it could neither open nor settle into calm; instead his mind formed voices that whispered in his inner ear, some accusing, some mocking. Strange visions flittered through the shifting veils of consciousness. He was unable to repel or investigate them. A despondent inertia hovered over him like a vulture.

There were some slight sounds and a quiet voice that, at first, barely made an impression on his mind. Groggy as he was, his awareness still sensed a shift in the gloom of his near-death state. Pulling apart the eyelids which had glued shut, he made out the form of a young woman, kneeling in front of him with a dish. ‘Sujata asks for your blessing, noble one!’ she said gently as she laid the dish in front of him. ‘Please partake of my offering so that my generosity can be fulfilled!’

He moved his lips, but his throat could not form words. Yet, her kindness touched chords in his heart and a sense that had been ignored for years stirred. Before he could form a thought, his head had made a movement of assent and one skinny hand had lifted in response. Sujata smiled and withdrew, and while allowing the natural instinct to move through him, the seeker found himself carefully scooping a meal of sweet milk rice from the dish, one slow mouthful at a time, until he had consumed it all.

Life flowed through his system like the sap that fed the tree under which he sat. ‘Why not?’ he thought. ‘Let Nature look after nature. What good is there in fighting against its laws? Why not let it support me in this quest?’ With his body refreshed and his mind clearing from its near-death delirium, he sat cross-legged and upright under the canopy of the tree and steadied his awareness on the experience of breathing in and out. It suddenly occurred to him that when he was a child he had done just that, quite spontaneously, and it had taken him to a place of natural calm. Eagerly, he picked up the theme.

Evening came and with it shadows, and the sounds of the many animals that move through the night. Sensing this, the seeker’s mind entered its own deep shadows and all that lurks there. Fear and uncertainty arose, followed by a procession of moods — apathy, craving and negativity amongst many others swelled into a veritable army attacking his resolve.

Boredom, sense desire, drowsiness and passions beset him as he sat there, hour after hour. And yet, now on guard against every inner voice as well as against forcefully suppressing them, he continued to sit firm and upright in full awareness. The night progressed while the power of these energies seemed to crystallize into one great, raging force. It was like a demon battering and tugging him.

And it swept into the depths of his heart, where he could hear its seductive whispering:
‘Why sit here under a tree at night alone, wasting your youth? How can anything good come of this painful and impotent sojourn? Why not trust life, learn as you go through its joys and marvels and challenges? It’s late, take a rest and see what the morning brings.’

The seeker unified his mind around his resolve and looked for a clear response. Eventually, one came. ‘I know you, demon; you’re Mara, the deceiver, the voice of Death! You’re the one who has kept me chasing delusions and running from shadows through life after life and death after death. This time, I’m not budging. You won’t shift me with your doubts and promises.’

‘You know nothing and you’ll get nothing out of sitting here. Death will sweep you away like a twig in a flood!’ said Mara. ‘And even before that comes, I can call on forces of fear, loneliness and longing that will drive you to despair and send you running for comfort. You just have one feeble body and a heart awash with confusion. How do you think that your sitting still is going to conquer me?’

‘My body is mortal, but I’m not relying on that. My heart may sense fear and craving, but I’m not taking a stand on that. I have an inheritance of many lives spent in working for purity, both of conduct and of mind. And sitting still, alone, unarmed, I also can command a tide that will check your flood! I stand on being at peace with whatever arises. Here, now, I call this very Earth to witness that I am ready, ripe with all the perfections that are needed to sweep you and your demon host out of my heart.’ With these words, the seeker focused his attention deep within his embodied awareness. In that calm centre beneath personality, thoughts and moods, he touched into a rich ground.

A response was not long in coming. His firmness grew as he recollected the huge store of virtues and resolves that he had enacted over many lives; and in his mind’s eye, the very spirit of the Earth rose up like a goddess. Wrapping her long hair into a braid, she twisted it — and wrung out of it a great fountain of water that swept through the darkness of the grove … His heart brimmed with confidence and clarity radiated around him: Mara and his entire host had dissolved like mist at dawn.

After allowing the clarity and joy to wash their refreshing tides through him, the seeker resumed his introspection. He began recalling the results of acts based on kindness, patience, resolve and more, the deeds of many lifetimes. He reviewed the processes that determine everyone’s life, the pressure, turmoil and pain that accompanied them — and finally how they can be put to rest. By the time that dawn had arisen, a deep unshakeable peace had settled within him: he had discovered the release from the grip of Death.

In years to come, many people who heard his teachings came to acknowledge the profundity of his realization. Sensing his deep clarity and mastery of mind, they called him ‘Buddha’ — the Full-Knowing, the Enlightened, the Awake.

This reflection by Ajahn Sucitto is from the book, Pārami, Ways to Cross Life’s Floods, “Touching the Earth.”