Siddhartha and the River

May 22nd, 2007

I've been contemplating several ideas lately from the book Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse. Since first pulling this book randomly off the library shelf seven years ago, Siddhartha has become a significant cornerstone of my personal religious philosophy.

The book, a short work of fiction, traces the life and development of a spiritual seeker who lived at the time of the Buddha. Siddhartha begins life as a favored Brahmin's son, performing his religious duties to perfection and becoming the model young man, full of promise and sincerity. Yet Siddhartha is not truly happy. While others praise his goodness, he remains unsatisfied with the provisions of his own faith. He leaves his home and family for the life of the ascetic, seeking the elusive spiritual goal that his teachers cannot give him. Over time he realizes that asceticism cannot provide salvation either. After meeting the Buddha and realizing that no teacher can ever exceed the Enlightened One, Siddharta becomes a merchant, eventually losing the inner conviction that once drove his quest. Finally he realizes what he has lost, abandons his comfortable life, and becomes a ferryman's companion to learn the ways of the river. In this desire-less state he learns the meaning of wisdom, finds enlightment and achieves the goal of his lifelong quest.

My short summary cannot even begin to do justice to this masterful allegory. But the main reason the book has such meaning for me is that I see my own life traced in Siddhartha's experiences. Siddhartha's life mirrors each stage in my own spiritual path so far: believer, missionary, skeptic, materialist. I too have encountered the amazing teachings of the Buddha, but withdrawn from the promise of joining a larger religous community to follow my own path. I see my own spiritual arrogance in Siddhartha's impatience and individualism. The dangers of Siddhartha's immersion in the material world are constantly present in my own life. The abandonment of desire that Siddhartha undertakes late in life still looms in my future. The book has become both a guide and a warning.

I have become convinced that each person has a unique spiritual path to enlightenment. Like a fingerprint, each path traces a unique line through the same territory of desire, suffering, death, and rebirth. We encounter thousands of fellow seekers along the way, but each must ultimately find that course for which they are suited, whether by instinct or intent. I feel that the path I have chosen is more rare than otherwise. I have encountered very few fellow travelers. And in some sense I feel that the path has chosen me as much as I have consciously chosen it; as if I were living out a script that was foreordained from the foundations of my genetic inheritance.

May I be as fortunate as Siddhartha in the outcome of my own journey.