The Longest Path
May 20, 1002
Dear Augustine:
A few days ago while sitting by the river, listening to life and death cycling, a thought crept to mind, "where has the Self hid in others?" My great friend Govinda knew the answer, but only after I had offered it to him so long ago. In a moment of silence, he remembered a journal he once came across while staying with Christian missionaries. The missionaries were kind enough to loan the journal for him to read during an evening storm. It was your self-reflective biography named Confessions. As Govinda kindly discussed your life, I was intrigued by our dissimilar, yet the same paths of struggle in life.
A laugh grew strong in my belly after Govinda finished, not at you of course, but of the thought that our travels to our Self we’re the longest in our lives. I ask you now, though I do not an expect answer, for you have lived and died before I; but still I ask "no matter the time or place, when you desire to seek out which is missing from you, isn’t the longest path the one inward?" It’s taken nearly a lifetime of fasting and feasting to find my Self inside held by Atman. To this how do you answer?
Yours truly in Self, Siddhartha
May 20, 1003
Dearest Augustine:
Again, I’ve found myself by the river; with thoughts drifting through my mind like water carrying a raft with passengers across to their unseen final destination. Last night, I found that scrap of parchment upon which I wrote my first letter. (Chuckling peacefully) I wonder if you’ve read it and are curious to know if a reply is coming. To this letter I add something I spoke to Govinda so long ago regarding who should be my teacher. "There is, my friend, only a knowledge – that is everywhere, that is Atman, that is in me and you and in every creature, and I am beginning to believe that this knowledge has no worse enemy than the man of knowledge, than learning." (Siddhartha 19)
Though I was young and full of words taught to me by my father and fellow Brahmins, I felt that there was still something more to learn. By this internal fire, I became a Samana for many years. Wearing only a loincloth, I tested if worldly denial would lead me closer to that which I felt missing. After 20 years of self-denial, I still felt that something was missing for I continued to feel alien and unknown to myself.
I felt a need to travel further, but this time into learning of my worldly capabilities. I learned to become a merchant, to take a lover, and to gamble with great risks. This lasted for another 20 years until an evening in which something inside me felt like it had died. Under a mango I sat and realized that I was leading a strange life. I had an ordinary person’s life, but my fire inside burned for something hotter.
It is past dusk now and the light has faded so that I can’t write anymore.
Your friend in journey, Siddhartha
September 4, 1013
Augustine:
The time has come to close this correspondence. My time is becoming shorter every moment.
I asked you long ago if our longest path was the one inward. I still have no answer from you, but I do not mind, nor do I need one. Once, when I was with my lover, I explained to her "everyone can perform magic, everyone can reach his goal, if he can think, wait and fast." (Siddhartha 60) That was how I found myself finally. As I traveled into myself, I thought and learned from myself, I waited for others and answers to come before me, and I fasted when the bounty was good.
My son sadly didn’t subscribe to this, when I had last seen him, he was rich in goods that I had left behind. He did not seem true to himself and in turn my heart felt sympathy for him.
I don’t know if other’s path inward would ever be a quick one. I do hope that many others travel the internal path before they become lost in a worldly manner. The path to our Self is long and bare, I’m afraid others are scared by the sacrifice it requires. They are too comfortable with being ordinary; I hope that my happiness and peace might encourage others to follow themselves inwards. I’ll only be afraid of those who come to follow me; they’ll have it all wrong.
In Self, Siddhartha
Michael Cannon TRST 230 Spring 2002
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6/4/2002 – Homework of old anyone?
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