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04 - Awakening - Siddhartha - Hermann Hesse · The Philosophy Insights Collection

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  Chapter four Awakening. When sad Arthur left the grove where the Buddha, the
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  perfected One, stayed behind, where Govinda stayed behind, then he felt that
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  in this grove his past life also stayed behind and parted from him. He
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  pondered about the sensation which feeled him completely. As he was slowly walking along,
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  he pondered deeply, like diving into a deep water, he let himself
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  sink down to the ground of the sensation, down to the place where the
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  causes lie, because to identify the causes, so it seemed to him,
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  is the very essence of thinking. And by this alone, sensations turn into
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  realizations and are not lost, but become entities and start to emit like rays
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  of light. What is inside of them? Slowly walking along, said Arthur
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  pondered, he realized that he was no youth any more, but had turned
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  into a man. He realized that one thing had left him, as a
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  snake is left by its old skin, That one thing no longer existed in
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  him, which had accompanied him throughout his youth and used to be a part
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  of him, the wish to have teachers and to listen to teachings. He
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  had also left the last teacher who had appeared on his path, even him,
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  the highest and wisest teacher, the most holy one Buddha he had left
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  him, had to part with him, was not able to accept his teachings
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  Slower, He walked along in his thoughts and asked himself, what is all
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  this? What you have sought to learn from teachings and from teachers, and
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  what they who have taught you much was still unable to teach you? And
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  he found it was the self, the purpose and essence of which I sought
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  to learn. It was the self I wanted to free myself from which I
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  sought to overcome. But I was not able to overcome it. Could only
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  deceive it, could only flee from it, only hide from it. Truly,
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  no thing in this world has kept my thoughts thus busy as this,
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  my very own self, this mystery of me being alive, of me being
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  one and being separated and isolated from all others, of me being Sadartha.
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  And there is no thing in this world I know less about than me about
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  Sir Dartha. Having been pondering while slowly walking along, he now stopped as
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  these thoughts caught hold of him, and right away. Another thought sprang forth
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  from these, a new thought, which was that I know nothing about myself.
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  That Saddartha has remained thus alien and unknown to me. That I know
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  nothing about myself, that Saddartha has remained thus alien and unknown to me,
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  stems from one cause, a single cause. I was afraid of myself.
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  I was fleeing from myself. I searched Atman, I searched Brahman. I
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  was willing to dissect myself and peel off all its layers, to find the
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  core of all peals, in its unknown interior, the Atman life, the
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  divine part, the ultimate part. But I have lost myself in the process.
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  Saddartha opened his eyes and looked around. A smile filled his face,
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  and a feeling of awakening from long dreams flowed through him from his head down
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  to his toes. And it was not long before he walked again, walked
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  quickly, like a man who knows what he has got to do. Oh,
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  he thought, taking a deep breath. Now I would not let Saddartha
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  escape from me again. No longer. I want to begin my thoughts and
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  my life with Atman and with the suffering of the world. I do not
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  want to kill and dissect myself any longer to find a secret behind the ruins.
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  Neither Yoga vada shall teach me any more, nor Athara vada, nor
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  the ascetics, nor any kind of teachings. I want to learn from myself,
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  want to be my student, to get to know myself, the secret
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  of Siddartha. He looked around as if he were seeing the world for the
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  first time. Be beautiful was the world. Colorful was the world. Strange
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  and mysterious was the world. Here was blue, here was yellow, He
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  was green. The sky and the river flowed, The forest and the mountains
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  were rigid. All of it was beautiful, All of it was mysterious and
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  magical. And in its midst was he Siddartha, the awakening one on the
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  path to himself. All of this, all this yellow and blue, river
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  and forest, entered Siddartha for the first time through the eyes. Was no
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  longer a spell of Marah, was no longer the veil of Maya. Was
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  no longer a pointless and coincidental diversity of mere appearances, despicable to the deeply
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  thinking Brahman who scorns diversity, who seeks unity. Blue was blue river,
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  was river, and if also in the blue and the river in Siddartha,
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  the singular and divine lived hidden. So it was still that very divinities way
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  and purpose to be here yellow, here blue, their sky, their forest,
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  And here Siddartha, the purpose and essential properties were not somewhere behind the
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  things, They were in them, in everything. How deaf and stupid have
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  I been, he thought, walking swiftly along. When someone reads a text
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  once to discover its meaning, he will not scorn the symbols and letters and
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  call them deceptions, coincidence and worthless hull. But he will read them,
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  he will study and love them, letter by letter. But I, who
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  wanted to read the book of the world and the book of my own being,
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  I have, for the sake of a meaning I had anticipated before I
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  read, scorned the symbols and letters. I called the visible world a deception,
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  called my eyes and my tongue coincidental and worthless forms without substance. No,
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  this is over. I have awakened. I have indeed awakened, and
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  have not been born before this very day. In thinking these thoughts, Siddartha
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  stopped once again, suddenly, as if there was a snake lying in front
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  of him on the path, because suddenly he had also become aware of this,
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  he who was indeed like someone who had just woken up, or like
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  a newborn baby, He had to start his life anew and start again at
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  the very beginning. When he had left in this very morning from the grove
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  Jetavana, the grove of that exalted one, already awakening, already on the
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  path towards himself, he had every intention regarded as natural and took for granted
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  that he, after years as an ascetic, would return to his home and
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  his father. But now only in this moment, when he stopped, as
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  if a snake was lying on his path, he also awoke to this realization.
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  But I am no longer the one I was. I am no ascetic
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  anymore. I am not a priest anymore. I am no o brahman any
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  more. What should I do at home and of my father's place? Study,
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  make offerings, practice meditation? But all this is over all of this
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  is no longer alongside my path, motionless, said d Arthur remained standing there,
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  and for the time of one moment and breath, his heart felt cold.
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  He felt a cold in his chest, as a small animal, a
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  bird or a rabbit would when seeing how alone he was. For many years
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  he had been without home and had felt nothing. Now he felt it still,
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  even in the deepest meditation. He had been his father's son, had
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  been a Brahman of a high caste, a cleric. Now he was nothing
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  but sid Darthur, the awoken one. Nothing else was left. Deeply,
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  he inhaled, and for a moment he felt cold and shivered. Nobody was
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  thus alone as he was. There was no nobleman who did not belong to
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  the nobleman, no worker that did not belong to the workers and found refuge
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  with them, shared their life, spoke their language. No brahman who would
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  not be regarded as Brahmans and lived with them, no ascetic who would not
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  find his refuge in the caste of the Samanas. And even the most forlorn
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  hermit in the forest was not just one and alone. He was also surrounded
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  by a place he belonged to. He also belonged to a caste in which
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  he was at home. Govinda had become a monk, and a thousand monks
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  were his brothers. Wore the same robe as he believed in his faith,
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  spoke his language, but he said, Arthur, where did he belong to?
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  With whom would he share his life? Whose language would he speak?
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  Out of this moment when the world melted away all around him, when he
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  stood alone like a star in the sky. Out of this moment of cold
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  and despair, Siddartha emerged, more a self than before, more firmly concentrated.
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  He felt this had been the last tremor of the awakening, the last
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  struggle of this birth. And it was not long until he walked again in
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  long strides, started to proceed swiftly and impatiently, heading no longer for home,
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  no longer to see his father, no longer back end of chapter four