https://book.douban.com/subject/26980487/
Author: Hermann Hesse
Translator: Jiang Yi
Douban Introduction:
"Siddhartha" is not the story of the Buddha; it tells the life of a person, a life that countless ordinary people will also experience.
A spirited young man often believes he is chosen by fate. Leaving the past behind, he stumbles along, searching for the voice within, chasing fame and fortune, experiencing friendship, and tasting love. The difference is that Siddhartha's lifelong pursuit is the harmonious unity of life, which seems grand but is indeed an unavoidable question for everyone.
Hesse's language is filled with poetry, as reflected in the book's subtitle, "A Poem of India." For unknown reasons, this subtitle has been avoided in previous editions. To express Hesse's poetic essence as much as possible, we chose a direct translation from German. Although our translation cannot fully achieve this poetic quality, its poetic nature and spirit are evident.
The book's status has been repeatedly emphasized in previous versions—Henry Miller's favorite; it influenced many celebrities, including radio commanders; in the 1960s, there was a wave of reading Hesse in America, with college students each having a copy, and so on.
But as Siddhartha, who becomes a ferryman in the book, states, wisdom cannot be shared; it can only be discovered and experienced.
So if you happen to come across this little book, please savor the words within.
May you gain insights after reading Siddhartha's story and begin to experience your own life.
About the Story of This Book#
In 1967, Paulo Coelho was 20 years old and was sent to a mental hospital in Brazil.
You may not be familiar with his name, but you have certainly heard of "The Alchemist," which is authored by Paulo Coelho.
His life was supposed to be buried in the mental hospital, but a book saved him. (ps. This book was mailed to him in the mental hospital by his girlfriend.)
This book is what we are sharing today, "Siddhartha."
I think many people share the same feelings as the mentally ill Paulo; when reading this book, they hope for a story of a saint, but after finishing, they inevitably feel a bit disappointed. This book, aside from its exceptionally beautiful language, does not seem to answer the ultimate questions of life as many say.
"Siddhartha" merely tells the story of a worldly person's troubles. The fleeting Buddha in the book seems to be the goal pursued by many. How could Siddhartha, this person, have so many dark emotions? So much fear?
But Paulo realized that Siddhartha was determined to seek his essence of life, not to lose himself in the vast world.
A few days after finishing the book, Paulo was discharged from the hospital. On the day of his discharge, he looked back at the iron bars of the mental hospital and remembered the madmen inside who told him they would stay in the mental hospital for life, isolated from the world, never to go out. Why? Because the outside world is too difficult to face.
At that moment, Paulo Coelho told himself: I swear, I choose life. (ps. My life is mine, not heaven's.)
Well, this concludes the sharing of this book; I have summarized it. /manual dog head (a hint here)
Who is the Buddha?#
The Buddha, meaning "the Enlightened One," was originally named Siddhartha Gautama, also known as Shakyamuni.
The Buddha lived in ancient India around the 6th to 5th century BCE, originally a prince of the Shakya clan. He later renounced the world to practice, and after long years of cultivation and contemplation, attained enlightenment under the Bodhi tree, becoming the "Buddha," meaning "the Enlightened One" or "the Awakened One."
What kind of image do you have of the Buddha?
Is it a statue of a Buddha in a cave? Or a vivid mural? Or the graffiti drafts created by artisans found in the Cave of Scriptures?
It is rumored that the Buddha lived in the 5th century BCE, but it wasn't until around the 2nd century CE that the image of the Buddha began to spread. The images of the Buddha vary in different regions; the earliest Buddha statues were more of a "symbol" rather than a representation of the real Buddha, mainly for the purpose of remembrance and reverence for the Buddha's virtues.
The "Diamond Sutra" states: "If you see all forms as no forms, you see the Tathagata," meaning that to see the true "Tathagata," one must understand that all external forms lack permanence.
Since the highest state is "all forms are no forms," why are there so many resplendent Buddha statues? Shakyamuni was just Siddhartha, a prince over two thousand years ago; how did he transform into a figure like the "Tathagata" in TV dramas?
In Buddhism, there is the concept of the "Three Bodies of the Buddha," meaning the Buddha has three forms: the "Nirmanakaya," the "Sambhogakaya," and the "Dharmakaya." The level of enlightenment varies among individuals, and the Buddha they see will present different appearances. The so-called "Nirmanakaya" is like us ordinary people who have not yet attained enlightenment, so the Buddha we see is a monk, just like an ordinary person. The already enlightened Bodhisattvas see the Buddha as majestic and grand; this is the Buddha's "Sambhogakaya." The "Dharmakaya" refers to the true "Buddha," which is formless and shapeless, manifesting different appearances according to the minds of sentient beings.
Finally, did the historical Buddha really exist?
It wasn't until 1898 that a British engineer named Pepp discovered a relic vase containing the Buddha's remains during archaeological excavations in Piprahwa, India. The previous year, in Lumbini, Nepal, General Reiner and German archaeologist Dr. Fuhler discovered the Ashoka Pillar unearthed at the Buddha's birthplace. These new discoveries ultimately led Western scholars to begin believing that the Buddha was not a mythical figure but a monk who once lived and traveled in India to spread the Dharma.
Why Did Siddhartha Leave Home?#
The Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama, married the beautiful Yashodhara at around 19 but resolutely renounced the world at 29. After years of ascetic practice, he attained enlightenment at 35 in Bodh Gaya and then traveled barefoot in northern India, teaching for 45 years, ultimately passing away at 80 in Kushinagar.
The Buddha belonged to the Shakya clan, which was part of the Kshatriya caste, the noble class.
At the beginning of "Siddhartha," Hesse describes Siddhartha as follows:
Siddhartha, the handsome son of a Brahmin, a young eagle, grew up in the cool shade of houses, in the sunlight by the riverside, under the dense foliage of the banyan and fig trees, alongside his friend Govinda, who was also a son of a Brahmin.
And the one who loved him most was Govinda. He loved his gait, the elegance and perfection of his movements. He loved everything about Siddhartha's words and actions, but more than that, he loved his spirit, his noble and passionate thoughts, his strong will, and his noble sense of mission.
In modern terms, Siddhartha is a "rich second generation," who does not have to worry about livelihood, and his marriage and career should also be quite smooth. This is a life state that we envy greatly, and such a worldly life seems to have no reason to voluntarily give up.
So why did he choose to renounce?
The more direct description of the Buddha's desire to leave home to practice is the story of the four gates:
One day, Prince Siddhartha went out, and at one of the city gates, he saw an old man. He asked his attendant why this person looked like this. The attendant told the prince that this is "old age": "The old man’s life is nearing its end, and his remaining days are few, hence he is called old." The next day, the prince encountered a seriously ill person at the city gate and asked the attendant what this situation was. The attendant replied that this is a "sick person." The prince then asked what "sickness" is, and the attendant replied: "All beings suffer, and life and death are uncertain, hence it is called sickness." One day, the prince saw someone who had died, surrounded by grieving relatives. The prince asked, "What is death?" The attendant replied: "The dead have ended. The wind comes first, then the fire, the senses decay, and life and death diverge." In just a few words, the helplessness of life is expressed.
When the prince went out again, he saw a wandering ascetic on the street and curiously asked the attendant who this person was. The attendant informed him that this is a "Saman": "He has renounced love, left home to practice, controls his senses, is not tainted by external desires, has compassion for all, harms no one, does not grieve in suffering, and does not rejoice in pleasure; he can endure like the earth." In other words, leaving home to practice can help one escape the harm of desires and cultivate boundless compassion for all beings, which made the young prince very envious and sparked the thought of renouncing the world to practice.
In the novel "Siddhartha," Hesse describes Siddhartha's moment of renunciation in a literary way: "Govinda realized: the time has come; Siddhartha must go his own way. His destiny is about to unfold."
At that time, three Samanas passed through the city where Siddhartha was. They were ascetics on a pilgrimage, neither old nor young. Their emaciated, almost naked bodies were sunburned and covered in dust and blood. They were outsiders in the human realm, gaunt and wolf-like. Alone, detached, they were at odds with the world. A kind of silent passion, a willingness to dedicate everything, and a ruthless physical extinction surrounded them.
In Hesse's novel, Siddhartha is the protagonist, and his companion is Govinda. In the book, they both visit the Buddha, Gautama.
ps. I personally believe that the Buddha's real name is Siddhartha Gautama, and Hesse splits it into two characters, so the Siddhartha in the text is actually the Buddha, representing another path to enlightenment.
The Practice of the Saman#
Siddhartha and Govinda left their hometown together and began a challenging life of asceticism, attempting to break free from the constraints of self and the secular world through meditation, fasting, and suppressing sensory desires.
When he encountered women, he looked coldly; when he saw the elegantly dressed people in the city, a hint of disdain appeared at the corner of his mouth. He saw merchants doing business, nobles hunting, mourners wailing, prostitutes selling their charms, doctors treating patients, priests determining the day for sowing, lovers caressing each other, and mothers nursing—he looked down on all of this.
Siddhartha's only goal was to fall into emptiness. No thirst, no desires, no dreams. No joy, no sorrow. "I" was removed, no longer existing. Let the empty heart find peace, listening to the miracles in the deep contemplation of no "I." This was his goal. When "I" was completely conquered, when "I" perished, when craving and desire extinguished in the heart, that ultimate, deepest non-"I" existence, that great secret, must awaken.
However, Siddhartha quickly realized that the ascetic practices of the Saman were merely futile and not the true path to enlightenment.
Siddhartha said: "I do not see it that way, my friend. What I have learned from the Saman so far, Govinda, I could have learned more quickly and easily. In the taverns of the flower streets and willow lanes, my friend, I could learn from porters and gamblers."
Meeting Gautama#
The Saman's asceticism and practices could not help Siddhartha truly answer the questions about existence, suffering, and liberation. He gradually realized that these practices, while providing a method to control desires, could not touch the essence of life. Driven by this confusion and dissatisfaction, Siddhartha heard that the Buddha—Gautama was coming to teach, so he visited the Buddha with Govinda.
As night fell, the heat subsided, and the people in the Garden of Jeta became active, gathering to listen to the Buddha's teachings.
At that moment, they heard the Buddha's voice. That voice was complete, peaceful, and calm. He spoke of the truth of suffering, the origin of suffering, and where it leads to cessation. His calm discourse was clear and serene. Suffering is the reality of life, but the path to liberation from suffering has already been discovered; by following the Buddha, one can escape the sea of suffering.
The World-Honored One spoke of the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path in a gentle yet firm voice. He patiently taught in his usual manner, providing evidence and reviewing. His voice bright and quietly hovered above the listeners, like light and shadow, like stars.
Govinda was immediately captivated by the Buddha's wisdom, serene demeanor, and profound insight, wanting to follow the Buddha to practice.
But Siddhartha was unwilling to become a follower of the Buddha.
Govinda kept asking his friend, wanting to hear him explain why he did not embrace Gautama's teachings, what flaws he found in them. But Siddhartha always rebuffed his inquiries: "Do not ask anymore, Govinda! The Buddha's teachings are very good; how could I find flaws?"
However, Siddhartha indeed discovered Gautama's shortcomings. He clearly realized that each person's path to enlightenment is unique and cannot be obtained through imitation or following others. The Buddha had completed his path of practice, and Siddhartha must explore his own path.
"However, in your teachings, in the unified and logically perfect world, there exists a fracture. This small gap makes this unified world appear somewhat strange, somewhat novel; it presents something somewhat different from before, which cannot be verified: that is your transcendent and extraordinary teachings for liberation. This small flaw, this small fracture, shatters the eternal laws of the unified world, rendering them ineffective. May you forgive my objections."
"Oh, World-Honored Buddha, you have never spoken in words or teachings about what happened to you at the moment of your enlightenment! The World-Honored Buddha's teachings often instruct people to do good and avoid evil. In the clear and revered teachings, there is no account of the World-Honored One's journey, that secret of your transcendence over all beings. This is what I pondered and recognized while listening to the teachings. This is why I must continue my quest—not to seek a better teaching; I know it does not exist—but to free myself from all sages and teachings, to realize my goal alone, or to reach annihilation."
At that moment, Siddhartha parted ways with Govinda. He wanted to achieve his goal alone or move toward annihilation.
Another Path to Enlightenment#
After bidding farewell to the life of the Saman, Siddhartha began to experience true life.
He looked around, as if meeting the world for the first time. The world was beautiful, splendid; the world was strange and mysterious! Here was deep blue, here was bright yellow, there was vivid green. The Milky Way flowed gracefully, forests and mountains towered high. Everything was beautiful. Everything was filled with secrets and magic. And within it, Siddhartha, this awakened person, was walking toward himself.
He had previously viewed the real world as an illusion, as a mere chance and worthless veneer, but now he had truly awakened and began anew.
He met the intelligent and beautiful courtesan Kamala, learned the art of love from her, began to engage in worldly pleasures, and started to learn the ways of commerce. With his wisdom, he began to live a luxurious and comfortable life.
However, he gradually became consumed by material desires:
The secular world imprisoned him. Lust, greed, and laziness, as well as the profit-driven mindset he despised and often mocked, captured him. He bowed down before wealth. Earning money was no longer a game or trivial matter for him, but a shackle and burden.
Thus, he began to feel bored and disgusted with this lifestyle. After experiencing the beauty and suffering of worldly life, he once again embarked on the path to enlightenment.
As his companion, Kamala truly understood Siddhartha:
Only the clever Kamala knew that he still had the heart of a Saman. What guided his life was still the art of thinking, waiting, and fasting. He remained estranged from the childlike world of ordinary people.
When I saw this sentence, I made a note: this is actually the true portrayal of many Chinese people—when entering the world, they practice self-restraint and return to propriety, sacrificing themselves for righteousness; when leaving the world, they cultivate a tranquil heart and desire little, dreaming of a fleeting life. If put in plain language, it is that one cannot roll up and cannot lie down peacefully.
So Siddhartha chose to leave. He seemed to return to nothingness, just that at this moment, his youth had faded, his hair had turned gray, and his strength was waning.
He only hoped to forget himself, to find peace, or even to die. He wished for a lightning strike to kill him! For a tiger or wolf to devour him! He wished for a cup of poison to intoxicate him, to let him forget, to sleep, never to awaken! What filth in this world had he not been stained by? What sins and foolishness had he not touched? What wild and desolate corners of his soul had he not lingered in? Could he still live? Still breathe? Still feel hunger, still eat, still sleep, still share a bed with a woman? Had this cycle not exhausted and shackled him?
Then he thought: impermanent things have left me. Like in childhood, I am once again without anything, powerless and ignorant, standing in the sunlight. How strange! At the time of fading youth, with gray hair and waning strength, everything begins anew from childhood! He laughed.
I once forgot where I saw an ancient text that said the pleasures of life are nothing more than achieving fame and marrying a beautiful wife. But what is truly worth remembering is when you are at your peak, suddenly struck down to the ground, losing everything, starting from zero; this is also Siddhartha's true portrayal at this moment.
By the river, he sought enlightenment.
Finally, he came to a riverbank, and at this moment, he had aged, becoming an ordinary old man like any other.
Just as he was on the verge of collapse, the sound of the river awakened him. He began to learn to listen to the sound of the river, to appreciate the mountains, rivers, and trees, every flower and stone.
The gently flowing water allowed him to feel the meaning of life anew: "The past flows like this, yet has never truly departed; the ebb and flow are like that, yet ultimately do not diminish or increase." The river does not change because of his despair; it continues to flow endlessly, as if telling him some profound truth.
At this moment, Siddhartha no longer clung to the pursuit of external truths but accepted life itself.
Perhaps true wisdom is not obtained through struggle or escape but through reconciling with life and accepting the true nature of all things.
"This," he fiddled with, "is a stone. After a while, it may become soil, grow plants, turn into animals, become a person. In the past, I would say it was just a stone, worthless...
But today I think, this stone is just a stone. It is also an animal, a god, a Buddha. I will not love it because it will eventually become this or that, but because it has always been a stone—precisely because it is a stone—that appears before me today and now. Seeing the meaning and value in every texture, every groove, in the yellow, gray, in the hardness, in the sound it makes when I strike it, in its surface's dryness and moisture. Some stones are oily and soapy, some like leaves and sand; every stone is different, each reciting 'Om' in its unique way.
Every stone is Brahman, but at the same time, it is indeed a stone."
There is a saying that beautifully captures this: only through those experiences you have gone through can you become the person you are at this moment (responding to the hint at the beginning).
You are the people you have interacted with, the things you have encountered, the emotions you have felt, the pains you have lost yourself in, the old trees of your hometown, the street lamps, the barbecue stalls you have eaten at... all these experiences have made you who you are now.
Siddhartha transitioned from disdain for desires in youth, to rejection of desires in young adulthood, to indulgence in desires in middle age, and finally to transcendence of desires in old age. He continuously saw his "I" through experiences, discarding notions of good and evil.
Thus, he could gain a deeper understanding of the people in real life, heard the life of the river. When Siddhartha focused on the roaring symphony of the river, he no longer heard sorrow or laughter. When his soul no longer clung to a single sound, when the self was no longer occupied, but listened to everything, to the whole and the unity, this great symphony condensed into a word: "Om," meaning completeness. Siddhartha, like the Buddha, ultimately achieved his life.
When I finished reading "Siddhartha," the first thing that came to my mind was this poem by Jiang Jie:
The young man listens to the rain in the song tower, the red candle dim in the gauze tent. The middle-aged man listens to the rain in the guest boat, the river wide, clouds low, the wild geese calling in the west wind.
And now, listening to the rain under the monk's hut, my hair is already speckled with gray. Joys and sorrows, separations and reunions are all indifferent; I let the drops fall on the steps until dawn.
—— Jiang Jie, "Yumeiren · Listening to the Rain"
This poem uses "listening to the rain" as an entry point, jumping through time and space, depicting three different scenes of listening to the rain, somewhat like a long-focus lens, compressing the scroll of life to the extreme.
In youth: unaware of the taste of sorrow, "The silver comb shatters the rhythm, the blood-red skirt stains the wine; this year’s laughter will return next year."
In middle age: the desolation and vicissitudes of life;
In old age: the weariness and frailty after experiencing separation and chaos, the joys and sorrows of life, which cannot be clearly articulated, listening to the autumn rain outside the window, unmoved, letting it drip until dawn.
In the same perspective, Wang Guowei's summary of the three realms in "Human Words and Sentences" resonates similarly:
The first realm: "Last night, the west wind withered the green trees, I climbed the tall building alone, gazing at the endless road." — Siddhartha abandons a life of abundance and resolutely embarks on the path of asceticism.
The second realm: "The belt gradually widens, but I do not regret, for you I have become haggard." — Siddhartha experiences the life of asceticism.
The third realm: "Searching for him among the crowd a thousand times, suddenly turning around, that person is in the dim light." — Siddhartha ultimately attains enlightenment by the river.
So what did Siddhartha realize?
Every moment in the world is complete. All sins carry forgiveness; every child harbors an old person, every newborn contains the deceased, and every dying person nurtures eternal life. No one can see the path of others. The path of robbers and gamblers may lead to the Buddha, while the path of Brahmins may lead to robbers. In the deepest meditation, there exists this possibility: time is terminated, and people view past, present, and future lives as simultaneous. At this moment, everything is good, complete, and Brahman. Therefore, in my view, everything that exists in the world is good.
It can be summarized as:
- Time: Every moment has its meaning of existence. When you transcend the limitations of time to view life, everything is complete and unified.
- Good and Evil: Even seemingly fallen paths may lead to enlightenment; while seemingly pure paths may lead to loss.
- All things are good: Brahman symbolizes the highest unity of the universe, encompassing everything, whether we see it as "good" or "bad."
Insights#
While reading this book, some sentences I once remembered always echo in my mind:
"Not entering the world, one cannot speak of leaving the world. The deepest practice is not in temples or mountains but in markets and office buildings."
"One cannot speak of life without visiting the market."
"I wish to ride the wind back, yet fear the jade tower is too high and cold."
"You should love concrete people, not abstract ones."
Disgusted with life yet trapped in it, expressing disdain for life while submitting before it, holding one's head high while kneeling.
I often feel self-satisfied for having understood many truths, seeing through the essence of things, coldly gazing at those still lost in confusion, considering myself different from others, yet I have not truly explored the path ahead. Those who truly possess great love should not be indifferent; they should be inclusive, gentle, understanding, and embrace suffering. Such people can truly help others cross the river.
Look at Siddhartha when he was an ascetic, using various methods to forget himself, to let go of himself, yet he could not forget or let go. Later, after experiencing the splendor of the world and enjoying all worldly pleasures, he suddenly attained enlightenment.
We actually fear our desires because "human desires are like rolling stones on a mountain; once they start, they cannot be stopped." Thus, we become fascinated by the myths of self-discipline, attempting to resist them through asceticism and suppression. But perhaps we should give ourselves a bit more confidence, try to satisfy our desires, and at some point, "you will find, like me, exhausted, sitting back in your place, that everything you wanted was waiting for you where you started."
In truth, there aren't so many transcendent and detached pursuits of fame and fortune; just boldly experience life.