58 Ancient Ideals
the streets of Rome in Caesar’s triumph. She imagines herself being
parodied on the stage, by a prepubescent male. They’ll “boy my
greatness,” she says. For Gautama to imagine being mocked—it is
as though Achilles had to imagine being reduced to the condition
of Thersites: ugly, misshapen, and absurd. All residual aristocratic
pride will evaporate in the dismissive glare of the crowd. It is the
temptation to escape mockery, to leave the world without the divine
teachings and ascend to another sphere of being that shakes Gau-
tama. He is indecisive. He weighs the alternatives: heavenly calm
forever against living on in a world of pain and grief and, maybe most
disturbing of all, of ridicule.
They will not listen. They will laugh at you. The people will not
care.
For a long time Gautama pauses— then the glowing words. Per-
haps some of them will not care, perhaps some will laugh, the great
teacher says. But not all of them will. No, not all! “There will be
some who will understand.” There are some who will listen to
what I have to say and take what I have to give, and they will be
transformed.
This is the decisive blow. The evil god disappears like dust and
the heavens open and rain down lotus blossoms. Nature sings in joy.
Even the gods join in the elation.
So the Buddha begins his life as a teacher. For close to forty- fi ve
years, he tramps through India enduring the sun and the hard rains.
Nine months of every year Gautama preaches, gives counsel, and
off ers comfort. For three months he withdraws for extended periods
of meditation and thought. Yet he does not disappear forever. He is
a moon that draws clouds around him like protective covering. Time
after time he returns to his task.
People hold him in awe. They gather to him to hear his words.
He will speak on large topics to be sure, but he will also address
the most personal and minor diffi culties. Should I marry? What