Chapter 4 - Awakening - Siddhartha - Hermann Hesse

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Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Chapter four Awakening. When sadd Arthurleft the grove where the Buddha, the
perfected one, stayed behind, whereGovinda stayed behind, then he felt that
in this grove his past life alsostayed behind and parted from him. He
pondered about the sensation which filled himcompletely. As he was slowly walking along,

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he pondered deeply, like diving intoa deep water, he let himself
sink down to the ground of thesensation, down to the place where the
causes lie, because to identify thecauses, so it seemed to him,
is the very essence of thinking.And by this alone, sensations turn into

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realizations and are not lost, butbecome entities and start to emit like rays
of light, what is inside ofthem. Slowly walking along, Siddartha pondered.
He realized that he was no youthanymore, but had turned into a
man. He realized that one thinghad left him, as a snake is

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left by its old skin, Thatone thing no longer existed in him,
which had accompanied him throughout his youthand used to be a part of him,
the wish to have teachers and tolisten to teachings. He had also
left the last teacher who had appearedon his path, even him, the

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highest and wisest teacher, the mostholy one Buddha, he had left him,
had to part with him, wasnot able to accept his teachings slower,
He walked along in his thoughts andasked himself, what is all this?
What you have sought to learn fromteachings and from teachers, and what

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they who have taught you much wasstill unable to teach you? And he
found it was the self, thepurpose and essence of which I sought to
learn. It was the self Iwanted to free myself from which I sought
to overcome. But I was notable to overcome it. Could only deceive

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it, could only flee from it, only hide from it. Truly,
no thing in this world has keptmy thoughts thus busy as this, my
very own self, this mystery ofme being alive, of me being one
and being separated and isolated from allothers, of me being Siddhartha. And

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there is no thing in this worldI know less about than me about Siddhartha.
Having been pondering while slowly walking along, he now stopped as these thoughts
caught hold of him, and rightaway another thought sprang forth from these,
A new thought, which was thatI know nothing about myself. That Siddartha

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has remained thus alien and unknown tome. That I know nothing about myself,
that Siddhartha has remained thus alien andunknown to me, stems from one
cause, a single cause. Iwas afraid of myself. I was fleeing
from myself. I searched Atman,I searched Brahman. I was willing to

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dissect myself and peel off all itslayers, to find the core of all
peals, in its unknown interior,the Atman life, the divine part,
the ultimate part. But I havelost myself in the process. Sadatha opened

(04:00):
his eyes and looked around. Asmile filled his face, and a feeling
of awakening from long dreams flowed throughhim from his head down to his toes.
And it was not long before hewalked again, walked quickly, like
a man who knows what he hasgot to do. Oh, he thought,

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taking a deep breath. Now,I would not let Sidhartha escape from
me again. No longer. Iwant to begin my thoughts and my life
with Atman and with the suffering ofthe world. I do not want to
kill and dissect myself any longer tofind a secret behind the ruins. Neither

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yoga vada shall teach me any more, nor Athara vada, nor the ascetics,
nor any kind of teachings. Iwant to learn from myself, want
to be my student, to getto know myself the secret of Saddatha.
He looked around as if he wereseeing the world for the first time.

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Beautiful was the world. Colorful wasthe world. Strange and mysterious was the
world. Here was blue, herewas yellow, He was green. The
sky and the river flowed, theforest and the mountains were rigid. All
of it was beautiful. All ofit was mysterious and magical. And in

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its midst was he Sadatha, theawakening one on the path to himself.
All of this, all this yellowand blue, river and forest, entered
Siddartha for the first time through theeyes. Was no longer a spell of

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Mara, was no longer the veilof Maya. Was no longer a pointless
and coincidental diversity of mere appearances,despicable to the deeply thinking Brahman who scorns
diversity, who seeks unity. Bluewas blue, river was river, and

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if also in the blue and theriver. In Siddhartha, the singular and
divine lived hidden. So it wasstill that very divinity's way and purpose to
be here yellow, here blue,their sky, their forest, and here

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Siddhartha the purpose and essential properties werenot somewhere behind the things. They were
in them, in everything. Howdeaf and stupid have I been, he
thought, walking swiftly along. Whensomeone reads a text once to discover its

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meaning, he will not scorn thesymbols and letters and call them deceptions,
coincidence and worthless hull. But hewill read them, he will study and
love them, letter by letter.But I, who wanted to read the
book of the world and the bookof my own being, I have,

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for the sake of a meaning Ihad anticipated before I read, scorned the
symbols and letters. I called thevisible world a deception, called my eyes
and my tongue coincidental and worthless formswithout substance. No, this is over.
I have awakened. I have indeedawakened, and have not been born

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before this very day. In thinkingthese thoughts, said d Arthur, stopped
once again suddenly, as if therewas a snake lying in front of him
on the path because suddenly he hadalso become aware of this, he who
was indeed like someone who had justwoken up, or like a newborn baby.

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He had to start his life anewand start again at the very beginning.
When he had left in this verymorning from the grove Jetavana, the
grove of that exalted one, alreadyawakening, already on the path towards himself,
he had every intention regarded as naturaland took for granted that he,

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after years as an ascetic, wouldreturn to his home and his father.
But now only in this moment,when he stopped, as if a snake
was lying on his path, healso awoke to this realization. But I
am no longer the one I was. I am no ascetic anymore. I

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am not a priest anymore. Iam o brahman any more. What should
I do at home and of myfather's place? Study, make offerings,
practice meditation? But all this isover all, of this is no longer
alongside my path motionless, Siddhartha remainedstanding there, and for the time of

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one moment and breath, his heartfelt cold. He felt a cold in
his chest as a small animal,a bird or a rabbit. Wood when
seeing how alone he was. Formany years he had been without home and
had felt nothing. Now he feltit still, even in the deepest meditation.

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He had been his father's son,had been a Brahman of a high
caste, a cleric. Now hewas nothing but Siddhartha, the awoken one.
Nothing else was left. Deeply,he inhaled, and for a moment
he felt cold and shivered. Nobodywas thus alone as he was. There

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was no nobleman who did not belongto the nobleman, no worker that did
not belong to the workers and foundrefuge with them, shared their life,
spoke their language. No Brahman whowould not be regarded as Brahmans and lived
with them, no ascetic who wouldnot find his refuge in the cast of

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the Samanas. And even the mostforlorn hermit in the forest was not just
one and alone. He was alsosurrounded by a place he belonged to.
He also belonged to a caste inwhich he was at home. Govinda had
become a monk, and a thousandmonks were his brothers. Wore the same

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robe as he believed in his faith, spoke his language, But he said,
Arthur, where did he belong to, with whom would he share his
life? Whose language would he speak? Out of this moment when the world
melted away all around him, whenhe stood alone like a star in the

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sky, Out of this moment ofcold and despair, Siddatha emerged more a
self than before, more firmly concentrated. He felt this had been the last
tremor of the awakening, the laststruggle of this birth. And it was
not long until he walked again inlong strides, started to proceed swiftly and

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impatiently, heading no longer for home, no longer to see his father,
no longer back end of chapter four