If you have ever struggled with emotional balance—in other words, if you are a regular human being in this world, then you will appreciate this story of how, in a past life, the Buddha worked on his own equanimity. This story comes to you from the Khuddaka Nikaya. Specifically, the Mahaniddesa. In this narrative, the Bodhisattva seeks to work on the perfection of equanimity.
Much like his final life before attaining nirvana, we find the Buddha born into a family of considerable wealth. As he grew, he was sent to a renowned teacher for his education. Upon completing his studies, he returned home, dutifully caring for his parents until they passed away. At this point, his relatives, eager to protect the family legacy, urged him to safeguard and augment the riches he had inherited.
But the Buddha-to-be had already had a glimpse of impermanence. He did not want to be bogged down in a life that revolved around attachment to things and becoming. While his family tried to pull him toward materialism, he was called to move away from sensuality. A yearning had blossomed within him, and he recognized that he now had the opportunity to act on it.
In his quest for liberation, he contemplated renouncing worldly possessions. However, he understood that due to his well-known lineage, such a renunciation would inevitably draw attention and fame—something he wished to avoid. The Buddha’s heart sought not for honor or recognition, but rather for a simple, unadorned existence. Thus, rather than abandoning everything outright, he chose to embark on a personal test of his resolve: he stepped out into the world, dressed as he usually did, but with the intention to cultivate the highest perfection of equanimity by enduring the slings and arrows of life.
He wandered through villages and towns, often perceived by the locals as eccentric or even feeble-minded. People misjudged him, viewing him as an easy target for mockery and disrespect. With a calm demeanor, he refrained from responding with anger. He traveled from place to place, often staying only a night, though lingering longer in the spots where he encountered the most insolence.
As time passed, the future Buddha’s garments became tattered. Yet, rather than accept help or clothing from others, he continued to cover himself with the remnants of his attire, choosing to persist on his path. His journey eventually led him to a village notorious for its rowdy children—young ones known for their mischievousness, rudeness, and penchant for practical jokes. They targeted the elderly and the vulnerable, delighting in their discomfort and mockery.
When he witnessed their antics, the Bodhisattva saw a unique opportunity to deepen his practice of equanimity. He decided to remain in that village, fully aware that he too would become the children’s target. True to form, they began to tease and insult him, and in a playful act of subversion, he pretended to be frightened and ran away, only to find that they followed him relentlessly.
His path eventually led him to a cemetery—a place that, he reasoned, would shield him from the children’s mischief. There, he lay down to rest, using a skull as a pillow. The children, undeterred, found him and continued their torment, hurling insults and even spitting on him.
Seeing his calm and resilience in the face of cruelty, wise villagers began to recognize the Bodhisattva’s nobility and the power of his spirit. They approached him with reverence, paying their respects and acknowledging his holiness. Through it all, the Bodhisattva maintained an unwavering attitude. He neither favored those who honored him nor harbored aversion toward the children who mocked him. Instead, he cultivated a profound neutrality, embodying the very essence of equanimity.
In this way, the Bodhisattva fulfilled the perfection of equanimity, demonstrating that true wisdom lies not in the avoidance of discomfort nor the pursuit of accolades, but in the ability to remain balanced and serene amid the ebb and flow of life’s challenges.
This story invites us to reflect on our own lives, encouraging us to embrace equanimity in our encounters with both kindness and cruelty, with joy and sorrow alike, recognizing that each moment is an opportunity for growth and understanding.
I don’t know about you, but I do not seek out mockery and cruelty, although I see the value in being able to be subjected to those things and remain steady. The closest I have come is to subject some of my work to peer review. And to ask others for feedback on how I perform my job. In my professional life, I have found these questions to be helpful: What do you want me to keep the same? What would you like me to do more of? What would you like me to do less of? There have been times when I have sought out the opinion of someone who frequently disagreed with me. If I think that a person will be deliberately hurtful to me, I shy away. But that’s just me being human; I am not a bodhisattva.
Perhaps what I can do, what we all can do, is to seek that unwavering attitude when moments that engender strong emotions come our way. Whether we perceive them to be happy or sad, good or bad, kind or cruel, let’s practice neutrality. We are not uncaring; we are equanimous.
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