In the description of how Govinda Idolized Siddhartha, Hesse writes about how selfless and pleasing Siddhartha was to all those around him. He concludes, however, that Siddhartha didn’t bring himself joy; he didn’t please himself” (Hesse 7). Buddhism seems to seek a different form of asceticism than the Jains. Rather than practicing ahimsa out of compassion, Buddhists seek complete disconnection with the world, in a completely opposite manner, based on the self alone. Ironically, Govinda, though deferential to Siddhartha, points out this void of compassion when he realizes that Siddhartha has indeed left him, “’Siddartha!’ he exclaimed in a lamenting voice” (Hesse 32). One of his closest followers “laments” Siddhartha’s departure because achieving Nirvana is a singular act, perhaps a selfish one. But this could be recognition of the futility of life otherwise—an faith rooted in the same convolutions as western religions, but more extreme in its means and ends. When his father confronts Siddhartha about his perpetual meditation, he states “You will die, Siddhartha.” To which he replies, “I will die” (Hesse 13). I think Siddhartha’s blunt concession in his retort is perhaps the fundamental reason behind his somewhat peculiar goals. I suppose that I find them peculiar because, in all of life’s futility, why would I want to sever my connection with the one aspect of humanity that keeps me sane: companionship (or, more specifically, love). But once again, I find the answer in the father’s compliance, “If you have found blessedness in the woods, then come and teach me how to be blessed. If you find disappointment, then return once more and let us once again sacrifice to the gods together” (Hesse 14). Siddhartha’s choice is obvious, and it is one mystery that must be chalked up to the perplexing intricacies of the human heart and where it may lead its host, hence my choosing of this song.
Listen To Your Heart (Techno) - DHT
In his pursuing the cessation of existence with the tangible world, Siddhartha garners many questions from Govinda about how it might be possible or even desirable. His explanation is such, “It is flight from one’s being, it’s a brief escape out of the agony of self-existence, it’s a momentary anesthetic against the pain and meaninglessness of life” (Hesse 19). I find this obsession with disconnectivity entirely strange, but even among people of his culture, Siddhartha had different goals, “I don’t have any desire to walk on water. Let the old Samanas satisfy themselves with such trucks” (Hesse 26). Once Govinda and Siddhartha come upon the Buddha praying, they note that “His calm face was neither happy nor sad, it seemed to smile quietly and inwardly” (Hesse 29). The Buddha is described almost to have achieved a state of ignorance of the world around him, its futility and existence. I question my notion that which the Buddhist seeks is a state of blissful ignorance, but further in the text, I find no answer. In a revealing conversation with the Buddha, Siddhartha asks the revered one about his one uncertainty with his teachings: the disconnection of the ultimate goal from all life. Siddhartha exclaims, “But there is one thing which these lucid and honorable teachings do not contain: they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one alone among hundreds of thousands has experienced for himself” (Heese 35). I find it empty, almost, that no explanation is available for the state of nirvana. I do believe that it is achievable for the most devout, but to what end? To a severance with the rest of the world. From my western perspective, that does not seem desirable.
There is something beautiful in the sense of companionship--something I do not want to relinquish. [1]
In “The Light of Asia” we see a different side to Buddhism than in the first part of Hesse’s novel. In this article, the sense of mercy and compassion of the Buddha is discussed, whereas it seems almost nonexistent in Hesse. However, the motivation behind Siddhartha’s goals in Hesse becomes more evident in this piece. After a long list describing the beauty of life, Arnold writes that “All things spoke peace and plenty, and the Prince saw and rejoiced. But, looking deep, he saw the thorns which grow upon this rose of life: How the swart peasant sweated for his wage, toiling for leave to live; and how he urged the great-eyed oxen through the flaming hours, goading their velvet flanks” (X241). In this case, the Buddha observes nothing but the toilsome cycle of punishment and agony that one being inflicts upon another, and his goals are better explained. But even then, to singularly displace oneself from the rest of the world, to achieve a state of Nirvana—these both seem far too extreme for me. There is little splendor in the imperfection of the cycle of mankind’s relationship to himself and to nature, but there is a well of joy to be gained from compassion, sympathy, love, and affection.
[1]https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL4kzzKTWEh8V-AOflWs5XTKI1hp6dpOHrbyk8DtnAVqSzBqbmHJpmlCjjoC2gI9nJ9Y6tyxqAkzBV6iacuscsHfvQNmex1h_EfGWsaFfqHpTkBLk3OakMGMC0rArlYX7ltxCGGocir1Q/s400/Companionship.bmp
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