Historical Accuracy

The Buddha pondered the nature of suffering.

The Buddha was intimately familiar with suffering.  His mother had died shortly after his own birth, and he had grown up without knowing her.  He had been raised by his aunt.  When in youth, he had asked his father about his mother, his father grew sad and did not wish to talk about it.  His aunt had respected his father's wishes and did not talk about her either, but would occasionally shed a silent tear when pressed by the young Buddha to tell him what she had been like.  He dreamed of her often.

As the Buddha grew to adulthood, he was trained in both the political and military responsibilities of rulership.  A gifted athlete, he excelled in martial arts, and was keenly aware of their lethal implications.  Political decisions impacted people's lives, and carried heavy responsibilities.

Raised within an opulent harem, the Buddha knew only too well the looks of hurt on the faces of those he did not choose for the evening.  While it was clear they were devoted to him, wouldn't they be happier with one man they could call their own?

And yet it was not until his own wife gave birth to a child that the true unresolvable depth of suffering revealed itself to his mind.  Even with all the power in the realm, his own father had been unable to prevent his mother's premature death.  In the same vein, the Buddha saw that all of his extraordinary privileges and abilities would not allow him to control the length of his wife's life.  The Buddha could be a great King, greater than even his father, and still he could not prevent the suffering of his infant child should his wife die, or the still-greater suffering of his wife should his child perish. And far more likely, he knew all too well that the military responsibilities of leadership placed his own life at risk - despite his martial prowess, the battlefield was an easy place to meet one's end, and while he did not fear death, he was loathe to incur such suffering upon his family.

And even long life in an age of peace could not prevent his family from dying, could it?  Peaceful old age and dying might seem acceptable ends, but the Buddha was raised in a Brahminic culture which accepted the doctrine of reincarnation, which meant that his family was destined to return to this impermanent realm again and again and again, indefinitely - and who was to say that each incarnation would be more carefree than the one before?  Though he could protect and keep safe his family in this lifetime, how could he be certain of doing so in the next?

Old age crept up on his father and the elders of the community, sickness has taken his mother, and death lay patiently waiting even for his beloved wife and child.  The greatest leadership the world had ever seen could not stop time, could it?  Impermanence itself was the source of all suffering, it seemed.

What was the nature of the Eternal?  Could it be found?  Could the path be discovered, to be shared with those he loved most?  As he contemplated, it seemed clear that his greatest duty to his people and his beloved family was to protect them from suffering not just in this lifetime but in all lifetimes, forevermore.  His true responsibility, the greatest responsibility of real leadership, it seemed, was to penetrate the mystery of the Eternal, that he might guide his charges on a path that led beyond the suffering of an existence forever ravaged by time.

For the sake of those he loved beyond measure, he made his choice-