Buddha’s life story

The Buddha’s life story reflects some of the challenges that introverts face today. Not much is known about his biography and much of it has been mythologized in later Buddhist hagiography. It is probably best to view the biography of Siddhartha Gautama as parable rather than literal truth.

It appears that for his first twenty-nine years he lived a life of games, hedonistic pleasure, luxury, and courtly life.

In the Anguttara Nikaya, the Buddha said:

I lived in refinement, utmost refinement. A white sunshade was held over me day and night to protect me from cold, heat, dust, dirt, and dew. I had three palaces: one for the cold season, one for the hot season, one for the raining season. During the four months of the rainy season I was entertained in the rainy-season palace by minstrels without a single man among them. 

There is some suggestion that the future Buddha, was an introverted child. When he was born, a Brahmin priest prophesized that he’d either be a great mystic or great king. Only an introvert could pull off both of these occupations where quiet leadership is required. 

During the spring planting festival of his eighth year, Siddhartha withdrew because he was distressed for the soil-dwelling creatures disrupted by the plowing of the fields. He went into meditation under a under a rose apple tree. Introvert written all over that.

Yet, despite his introvert tendencies, his father applied pressures that pushed him in the direction of being a pseudo-extrovert. It is likely that his days were not only filled with entertainment but parties, state functions, and little to no privacy.

Quiet, introspection, and reflection were things his father wanted him to avoid because these may carry him away from his courtly potential. The king feared if his son was exposed the harsh realities of life that he would turn towards philosophy instead of matters of state.

Many of us have had similar pressures applied to us. As introverts, we may have been naturally more introspective and our parents, friends, and teachers tried to draw us out of our shell to be more outgoing, active, and “happy” (as if happiness was defined by being socially popular). The message was we needed to be extroverted to be successful. 

Introversion made us prone to becoming what for Siddhartha was the equivalent of mystics—of no use to a king or extrovert dominated culture. Many of us, myself included, succumbed to these pressures. The good news is that we developed the skills to impersonate extroverts, which does help us to be successful in the extroverted culture.

The bad news is that we were separated from our true nature and may have forgotten that we are introverts and this is where we are at home. In exile, we can feel lost, exhausted, and contracted.

Before reading Susan Cain’s wonderful book Quiet, I didn’t realize that I was comparing myself deficiently to the extrovert ideal. The expectations can be insidious. Reading her book was a revelation and one that continues to unfold.

According to legend, the King had somehow managed to shield the prince from all examples of old age, sickness, and death until he was 29 years old! This is preposterous and, again, think parable not literal. Servants and family members would have no doubt aged, gotten ill, and died during those year.

It’s amazing how often accounts of the Buddha’s early life fail to treat this point with incredulity. Nevertheless, according to the story, seeing these signs provoked Siddhartha to go forth from his previous life to find a way beyond all suffering.

Siddhartha realized that his life as a hedonistic pseudo-extrovert was lacking. Sickness, old age, and death awaited, regardless. Life was suffused by dissatisfaction and he wanted to figure out a method for transcending the pains of life. He went from leisure boy to naked sadhu overnight.

Perhaps that was an overreaction to his circumstances but he was determined. He went into six years of solitary deprivation practicing intensive yogas and meditations that nearly killed him. It was only when he was on the verge of death from starvation that he forged a middle way.

At the encouragement of a young cowherd who offered him some sticky rice on a banana leaf, Siddhartha broke his vows of deprivation. The rice fortified him to sit under the pipal tree (later known as the Bodhi Tree) until he reached his awakening. 

Siddhartha did not awaken as the result of a group brainstorming session; he found it in the process of deep meditation. Quiet. Alone. Concentrated. He found what he was looking for in between the extremes of indulgence and denial.

That middle path is a good model for introverts (and extroverts) today. It consists of a balance of introvert and extrovert activities, nurturing and refining both. A base of solitude can be found in meditation practice yet it is also connected with others in the community of like-minded practitioners called the sangha.

The middle of this middle path is mindfulness. It was a key to his realization under the pipal tree 2500 years ago. He noticed how his mind would move from the phenomenological experience of now, to stories, abstractions, and concepts. Suffering could be found in the departures from the moment but not in the raw experience of breathing in this moment.  

What happened under that tree is often described as “enlightenment” but awakening is a more accurate term. When people encountered him after this experience, his presence impressed them and they inquired as to what had happened. He told them, “I am awake.”

Awake in Pali is “buddho.” A buddha is one who is awake. There is nothing superhuman about it. Awakening is available to everyone, introverts and extroverts alike when we can refine our introspective self-monitoring skills. 

The Buddha feared that people might not understand his realization, yet after some consideration he decided to teach. He was doing this at a time when “self-help” could only be found in religious rituals and beliefs.  

Buddhist scholar Richard Gombrich observed:

A great deal of modern education and psychotherapy consists of making people aware  that they are responsible for themselves. In fact, we consider that it constitutes a large part of what we mean by becoming a mature person. It is amazing that someone should have promulgated this idea in the fifth century BC, and hardly less remarkable that he found followers.

But followers he did find. The Buddha was a great community organizer. He brought people together around the theme of interconnectedness goodness. In fact, the connection of the sangha was so important it was one of the three jewels. The other two were everyone’s capacity to awaken and the psychological truths that he taught throughout his forty-five year career.