Copyright © 2002, 2000 by Michael Segers, All rights reserved
You are
probably alone (well, not counting a cat
in your lap and/or a parrot on your shoulder), reading this text off the glowing
screen of your computer monitor. But, imagine that we are sitting together
around a fire at night. Or, late in the evening, just as the sun is going down,
we are on the banks of a river, with the ducks settling in for the night, and
other little animals scurrying in the brush. It’s a time for stories.
I want to begin a brand new year with a grand old story. It’s a story in which I find some new truth every time I hear it, so if you have heard it before, listen for the new truth. If you have never heard it before, then we are both fortunate, you to hear (remember, we are sitting around a fire together) this story, and me to be the one to tell it to you.
It was a long, long time ago, the time of all the best stories. There was a king, a warrior, strong and wise, who had inherited power but also had won power on the battlefield. Just as he was the strongest and most noble of men, so was his wife the most beautiful and most noble of women. Great was the celebration throughout the kingdom when it was learned that they were to be parents. When their son was born, the king invited a holy man, known for knowledge but also known for wisdom, to behold the infant. First, the old man sighed, then he laughed. "You have, o king, a most wonderful child," he said. "He is born to rule, either in this world or in all worlds. To power, great power, is he born, but I cannot say whether it will be the power of the warrior or the power of the sage."
The young man grew in body and in mind and took
as his wife a beautiful princess, and they became the parents of a son. So far,
the story sounds almost like a fairy tale, with everyone handsome or beautiful,
everyone wise, and everyone happy. The prince’s father rejoiced at the birth
of his grandson, thinking that now that his son had a son, his son would now
choose to attain power in this world for the good of his wife and their child.
Knowing that his son felt a nostalgia for the worlds beyond this world, the king had built for him a great palace full of all the pleasures and luxuries which he could bring to it. All that was sad, all that was sickly, all that was miserable, these were banished from its confines. All that was happy, all that was healthy, all that was pleasurable, these were brought in for the amusement and the succor of the prince, his wife, and their son. But, still, the prince wanted more, needed more, and he asked his father permission to travel through the city that would one day be his capital, whose inhabitants would one day be his subjects.
The king ordered a great chariot with four magnificent horses to take the prince through the great streets of the great city, and he ordered the people to adorn their houses with bright banners and flowers. The people eagerly obeyed, and they lined the streets to catch a glimpse of their young prince.
The young prince rode out to see his city and his people for the first time, to be seen by his city and his people for the first time, for the true power of the mighty is not that they are seen but that they see their people. The charioteer carefully drove the chariot through all the most beautiful parks of the city, over all the most magnificent bridges, and out into the country, through well-tended fields and fragrant orchards. But, by the side of the road, they met an old man, bent over with his sorrows.
"Who is this?" asked the prince. "He is bent, wrinkled. His hair is white, his eyes vacant. He can scarcely stand, even with that cane in his hand."
The driver of the chariot cleared his throat. "This man was once a child, hearty and strong. But now, after many years, his strength, his personality, his body, his life itself are fading away." The prince was troubled. "How can we feel any pleasure, when we know that this end awaits us?" he asked.
The charioteer turned down a side road, away
from the route that he had been told to follow. There was a sick man lying on a
ragged mattress, trying to breathe, while his 
family wept around him. "Who
is this?" asked the prince. The driver of the chariot hesitated to speak.
"This man was once like me. Forgive me, o prince, he was once like you. But
now, like all of us, rich and poor, wise and stupid, he has grown ill."
Then, there appeared a family carrying a corpse. "What is this?" asked the prince. "What is this thing that looks like a man, but looks like a log as well?" After a long silence, the driver of the chariot spoke. "This was once a child, this was once a man. Now, he is dead."
"Am I fortunate," asked the prince, "to see such a rare thing?"
"Ah, no," said the charioteer. "In all countries, in all cities, in all homes, it is the same. To be alive is to be dying. Even so, o prince, shall we all be, even I. Even, forgive me, o prince, even you, even your lovely wife, even your son." And the charioteer turned the horses around sharply, and did not stop until the chariot was safely back within the palace. But that night, the prince could not sleep. He looked upon his beautiful wife and their young son. He walked through all the corridors of the palace, examining all the treasures his father had gathered for him. He walked through the gardens, inhaling their fragrance. For a moment, he enjoyed the aroma, but he was not comforted….
I just came in from the back yard. This time of
year, the fragrance of the citrus trees is muted, with the subtle aroma of the
fruit replacing the intoxicating smell of the citrus flowers during other
seasons. I am coming in from a strange, sad year. An early morning telephone
call dragged my best friend out of his palace with the sad news of the death of
his son. My father broke through his palace into the sad, distant world of
Alzheimer’s syndrome, leaving his family to break through their own palaces.
The story, of course, is the story of a man known as Siddhartha, also known as Gautama, also known as the Buddha. I am not a Buddhist. One fall, however, donning once again my teacher’s cap at Worth County High School, I remarked to one class that I had spent the summer in a Buddhist community, and they laughed. "What," I asked, "is funny about spending a summer in a Buddhist community?"
"Oh," the class spokesman or clown said, "Buddhist? We thought you said nudist." Later, a Buddhist friend of mine remarked, on hearing this story, "In south Georgia, wouldn’t you have been better off if you had spent the summer in a nudist community?" I don’t know. During this past year, I have experienced an epiphany (appropriate for a column written in January). Although my writing used to be my gateway out of Worth County, now these columns are a way to get back in touch with Worth County, to be the voice in some strange way of Worth County.
Now, in whatever strange voice I speak or write, I want to give you a bonus, another story. Once there was a young man, who was not so great an artist, who wanted to be a cartoonist. Now, after fifty years, the great, decent man known to his friends as "Sparky" (a name he shares with a parakeet I once had) has had to bring to an end the most distinguished comic strip in the history of comic strips. Hey, how many comic strips have added new words to our vocabulary (security blanket)?
I have in my life met many intriguing people, including a few celebrities, as well as many people whose names are known but to God or our higher powers. But, if I could right now choose to have dinner with any person on the planet, it would be with the honest, godly man Charles Schultz, who, for every day that I have been on this planet (as a television commentator remarked), has drawn a Peanuts comic strip.
This is a bizarre thing to tell you: I have cried, shed tears, over the loss of this daily contact with greatness. As the great, sad old story reminds us, however, sickness happens, even to the most noble among us.
Please forgive me, but once again, I am taking a very easy way out. The best single link for Buddhism for beginners that I can give you is to the About.com site on Buddhism. For an incredible range of resources, including hundreds of books, as well as many audios and graphics, to download for free is Buddhanet.
For the amazing Charles Schultz and his Peanuts, let’s start with a site very near and so dear to us Peanut.org fans, there is the the Official Peanuts site. The National Cartoonists Society gives us a special report and a chance to "sign" an Internet card for Charles Schultz (please do). Don't forget to visit Snoopy's Gallery and Gift Shop Snoopy’s Gallery and Gift Shop, where you can even run into the President of the United States.
I do not feel bad or awkward to put the Buddha and Charles Schultz together in this article. In fact, I feel that I am honoring each by pairing him with the other. I also feel that I am honoring you by sharing these two sages with you, and I am honoring myself my evoking them. Nobility happens, nobility spreads to all who touch it. So, fellow rovers and ravers, we head out into an uncharted new year. Keep your feet dry and your heart full of noble thoughts of those like the Buddha, like the creator of Peanuts, and like an imaginative beagle who can sit at my feet any time he wants to, no matter what my cats or parrot may say.
Here is a great BBC documentary on the Buddha:
[2002 update: Of course, as you probably know, Charles Schultz did not live to enjoy his retirement. That's all that I need to say.]