Hey there, dear listeners of Life Philosophy! Welcome back to another episode where we dive deep into the timeless wisdom that shapes our understanding of life, love, and the pursuit of peace. I’m thrilled to share with you today a story that’s as old as the hills—quite literally—and yet as fresh as the morning dew. It’s a tale of despair, transformation, and the eternal teachings of Tathagata Gautama Buddha. So, grab a cozy spot, maybe a warm cup of tea, and let’s journey together to a rainy hilltop where a life was saved, and a soul was reborn.
Picture this: a lush, green hill during the monsoon season, somewhere in ancient India. The air is thick with the scent of wet earth, and a river below hums a melancholic tune as it weaves through the valley. The scenery is nothing short of enchanting—trees swaying gently, plants glistening with raindrops, and a serene stillness that seems to whisper secrets of the universe. Amidst this breathtaking backdrop, Gautama Buddha walks with a small group of his disciples, their saffron robes a stark contrast to the vibrant green around them. Their steps are measured, their presence calm, as if they’re in perfect harmony with nature itself.
But suddenly, the tranquility is shattered. From the opposite direction, a man storms up the hill, his face a storm of its own. His eyes are bloodshot, burning with rage, and tears stream down his cheeks as he mutters to himself, “Everything is a lie! Life is ugly! We’re all just mortal, doomed to nothingness!” His voice trembles with pain, and it’s clear to everyone—especially to the ever-observant Buddha—that this man, consumed by despair, is heading to the hilltop with a dark purpose: to end his life.
Now, imagine the tension in the air as this man reaches the edge of the cliff, ready to leap into the abyss. But before he can take that fatal step, Buddha, with the swiftness of compassion, grabs his hand and pulls him back. The man, wild with anger, shouts, “Let me go! Who are you to stop me? My life is mine alone—I’ll do what I want with it!”
Buddha, with his characteristic calm, replies in a voice as steady as the river below, “No, my friend. Not just you. The mother who birthed you, the father who raised you, the teacher who guided you, your wife, your children—they all have a stake in your life. You stand here today because of a long chain of love and care. They, too, have a right to your existence.” There’s a pause, a heavy silence, as these words sink in. The man’s fury softens, just a little, as if a crack has appeared in the wall of his despair.
Buddha gently leads him to a nearby stone, seating him down with a tenderness that speaks louder than words. “Take a moment,” he says softly. “Breathe. Long, deep breaths. Focus on the air entering and leaving you.” The man, still trembling, closes his eyes and follows the instruction. For a few minutes, there’s nothing but the sound of his breathing, the rustle of leaves, and the distant river. When he opens his eyes, there’s a flicker of calm, though the sadness lingers.
Buddha places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and asks, “Has the storm in your mind quieted, even a little?” The man, with eyes full of sorrow, shakes his head. “It’s not just a momentary impulse,” he confesses. “My name is Yash. I’m the son of the richest businessman in this city. I’ve had everything—wealth, happiness, every desire fulfilled. But inside? There’s only darkness. A deep, aching void. I feel abandoned by life itself. There’s no point in going on.”
Oh, listeners, can you feel the weight of Yash’s words? How many of us have chased after things—money, success, love—only to find that emptiness waiting on the other side? Buddha, ever the wise teacher, nods with understanding. He says, “When we crave something, we believe its fulfillment will bring us peace. But once we have it, the mind feels empty again. Why? Because when a desire is just a wish, it’s a beautiful dream. But when it’s fulfilled, we realize even that dream slips through our fingers like sand. It was never meant to last.”
Yash, desperate for answers, asks, “Is there nothing in this life that’s permanent? Nothing that can’t be taken away from us?” Buddha’s eyes gleam with a quiet knowing as he responds, “Stop seeking joy in the external world. Running toward pleasures or running away from life in fear—neither will help. Turn inward, Yash. Embark on the journey within. There, you’ll find a peace no one can destroy.”
There’s a moment of awe as Yash looks at Buddha, truly seeing him for the first time. “Who are you?” he asks, hands folded in reverence. “How do you know all this?” Buddha smiles—a smile that seems to hold the wisdom of countless lifetimes—and replies, “The world knows me as Buddha. And the path of suffering you walk now? I, too, wandered there once. But I’ve risen above those sorrows.”
Yash, struck by the radiant serenity on Buddha’s face, murmurs, “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you.” Buddha chuckles softly, a sound like gentle rain, and says, “I’ve been standing before you all this time, but you couldn’t see me. Your eyes, clouded by anger, saw only darkness. Remember, a person creates the world they wish to see in their mind.”
Isn’t that a profound truth, friends? How often do we miss the beauty around us because we’re too caught up in our own storms? Buddha then gestures to the hill, the river, the trees. “Look around, Yash. Really look.” Yash does, and for the first time, he notices the magic of the scene. “Wow,” he breathes. “It’s… amazing.”
Buddha asks, “Why couldn’t you see this beauty when you were ready to jump?” Yash admits, “Because I wasn’t ready to see anything but my own suffering.” Buddha nods. “The surroundings haven’t changed. They’re the same as before. But your eyes have. Your mind has calmed, and now you see. Excess of anything—even happiness—leads to sorrow. Stay in the middle, Yash. Neither too sad in misery nor too elated in joy. Walk the middle path, and you’ll find ultimate peace.”
These words, dear listeners, are like a balm to a wounded soul. Yash, overwhelmed by their truth, falls at Buddha’s feet. “Will you make me your follower?” he pleads. Buddha, with a gentle warning, says, “You’ve lived a life of luxury as the son of a wealthy man. Our life as monks is one of simplicity. The earth is our bed, and alms are our food. Are you ready for such a path?” Yash, resolute, replies, “I’m ready for the penance that dissolves my ego, where my consciousness is reborn.”
Buddha, testing his resolve, asks, “Can you offer your head?” Yash, without hesitation, says, “I’m ready to give even that.” Buddha explains, “Offering your head is just a symbol. It means cutting off the head of your ego and laying it at the feet of your master.” With that, Yash symbolically lays his head at Buddha’s feet, receiving his blessings. And so, he joins the group of disciples, stepping into a new life of purpose and inner peace.
As we wrap up this story, friends, let’s sit with its lessons for a moment. Life’s beauty is always around us, but we often miss it when we’re blinded by pain or desire. Like Yash, we can learn to shift our gaze inward, to walk the middle path, and to find a peace that endures. If you’re curious to dive deeper into Gautama Buddha’s teachings, I recommend picking up a book called Being to Becoming Buddha. It’s a treasure trove of insights.
Thank you for joining me on this journey today. Until next time, keep breathing, keep seeking, and remember—sometimes, the most profound transformations happen on a rainy hilltop, with a wise friend by your side. Take care, and see you soon on Life Philosophy!