I remember when I was a child and they called me the Prince Gautama. Having no brothers or sisters to play with I was immersed in an adult world; mother was my most constant companion. Father watched over me with keen interest, but from a little distance. The servants were ever attentive making life on the estate full to overflowing with all I could think to need. Little did I know that this was a planned indulgence to distract me from a destiny foretold by the seers.

The whole of my childhood was spent in play and in learning the stories from the Ramayana and Mahabharata. As I grew older I became a little restless and wanted to know more of the world, even though all my needs were met right here on the estate.

When I came of age my father arranged my marriage. My bride was quite lovely and in time I became absorbed in my new life as householder. As the seasons came around again I became a father; my son shone like the moon. He too, surely, would be a prince among men.

But once again the longing reappeared to see life outside the estate. One day while my father was away on a journey, my companion Govinda, close like a brother, came to me and asked me to accompany him on a visit into town. I quickly accepted. Through the gates we rode, then out into the countryside; how beautiful and open, but not as well manicured as the orchards of the estate.

As we approached the town I spied a wretched dried-up creature begging alms. To Govinda I said, "What is that?"

"Just a beggar" he said.

"Can't we help him?"

"There is nothing to be done." replied he.

We also passed by a funeral procession, then into town. More beggars, some lame; garbage in heaps; unhappiness, pain and deprivation.

"Sri Ram! Why this suffering?"

And my companion could only say; "This is the way it is, there is no help for it."

I became crazed by the torment of human suffering; I must find out why; I must do something about it. I must come to understand this pity of human existence.

Back at the estate the chilling specter haunted me day and night. I became obsessed to find the answer.

I arose early in the morning, went to my wife and told her what I must do. I kissed my sleeping son and departed my father's estate.

Taking the road to the forest I chanced upon three wandering sadhus and told them of my search, and they guided me to a small camp of holy men staying by the river. I asked many of them for the answers to my questions. Some told me the same as Govinda, "There is no help for it." Others just looked at me and said nothing.

Since the wise men didn't know, it was clear that I must find out for myself. Therefore I resolved to sit in contemplation until I was able to divine the "why" and "what to do" of suffering, and to find a Truth that would not decay.

For a long time I sat, hardly moving. The old sage who never spoke brought me water from time to time, and occasional fruit. After seven times around the seasons straining to the breaking point for the answers I sought, I could find no reason for the suffering and decay. Finally I had to give up. I had failed. No longer could I continue this suffering in the name of suffering. The despair of failure collapsed my mind into nothingness.

For a long time I rested in the stillness; the passion of my desire for understanding was broken. In this tranquillity I realized that my suffering had ceased and joy was welling up in my heart. And from the depths within, my Soul pleaded to be released from the limitation of the mind.

"Is this the answer to suffering?" I thought again of the pain of suffering, and I felt again the depth of perfect peace, free from desire.

For 49 more days sitting by the river I experienced the Truth that transcended decay, and surrendered to my Soul which expanded through the vastness of the Universe. I savored the sweetness of new understanding; that the nature of being is pure awareness, the light of intelligence, and the bliss of contentment.

Such great compassion arose for the plight of those enchanted by craving for the ephemeral that brings only grief and another round on the wheel of karma. Surely the travail for the many continues because such a one has never walked among them who is free from the tyranny of the mind and the clutching of the heart. If this be the case then the end has come to my solitude in the forest.

I must go now and hold the lamp for those who seek the light, to remind those who have forgotten who they are, and teach those who would exchange despair for eternal happiness.

First I will rejoin five of my fellow seekers who endured with me the years of austerities while in search of the Eternal amidst the mysteries of the ephemeral. They departed for a city to the south; a center of spiritual erudition. I will follow them along the two weeks travel from Bodhgaya to Varanasi. There is time to arrive before the beginning of the monsoons, a time when a traveler must find shelter against the torrents of renewal.

These days of travel will be time to reflect upon the knowledge and experiences which arose not of the mind but as illuminations of the Soul. This has not been a tautology of deduction, but a sort of remembering of self-evident truth emerging out of the stillness of just sitting.

The dust of the road mixes with the company of merchants, pilgrims, and other travelers to form the ever changing scene playing in the background. The sublime rapture of pure being, unmolested by the discontent of the mind or hunger of the senses, forms the fullness of the inner presence. I feel a radiance within me that reaches out in recognition of all those who pass. They are, in fact, my own Self looking out through so many eyes. But sadly, the expressions around so many eyes tell the story of preoccupation with concerns of circumstance, memory of what is no more, and fear of what might be.

The way to Varanasi widens at the approach to the great Ganges River. A few more days along the river road and my destination will be at hand.

Varanasi announces itself in the distance with the haze of straw and dung cooking fires punctuated by plumes of smoke from the burning ghats. Many come to Varanasi to leave their body in the belief that cremation there by the Ganges will assure the soul a place in heaven.

In time I am reunited with my companions. It is to them that I first disclose the Four Noble Truths and the Eight Means of Attainment. They listen in curious respect as they notice that they are watched by the unmoving seer. The five are enveloped in the serenity that walks in these footsteps. They ask to be taught the way to Nirvana.

"You know already of the existence of suffering that is rooted in attachment and aversion. Understand that the cause of suffering is due to the craving in the mind for what does not exist, the craving of the senses for transitory pleasures, and craving in the heart for the good opinion of those who do not love themselves. Understand also that the remedy of suffering is through dispassion: indifference to the contents of the mind, transcendence of the appetites of the senses, and stilling the restlessness of the heart.

"The path leading to cessation of suffering is through the Eight Means of Attainment: right views, right aspirations, right speech, right behavior, right livelihood, right effort, right thought, and right contemplation.

"Right views are cultivated through study of the scriptures and the practice of non-attachment to the ephemeral things of the world; this is the torch to light the way. Aspire to be content in every moment, long for refuge in Buddha Nature; this shall be your guide. Right speech is found in truthfulness. Right behavior requires non-injury, non-stealing, forbearance, moderation, and restraining of the passions. Right livelihood is enjoyed wherever Buddha Dharma is followed and charity is served. Perseverance in bringing to rest the chattering of the mind is right effort. Right thoughts are free from the past, unafraid of the future, and undisturbed by the present. Right contemplation is the silent witness to the truth of pure being, immersed in serenity, unmoved by the tides of change, and filled with joy at just breathing in and breathing out.

"Oh brothers, this revelation is not in the least intended to make you self-righteous. Even pray that no one ever notices your attainment of Nirvana. Treading this path is to free you from the bondage of ignorance, loose the chains of karma, and bring you peace."

The monks, hearing the words and feeling the presence, knew that it was true. All that is left now is to hold to the teachings. In time, they too will become the Buddha.