old-path-white-clouds-thich-nhat-hanh

maintained mindfulness in order to observe them as they arose.
He abandoned the desire to escape the world of phenomena, and as he returned to himself, he found he was completely present to the
world of phenomena. One breath, one bird’s song, one leaf, one ray of sunlight—any of these might serve as his subject of meditation. He
began to see that the key to liberation lay in each breath, each step, each small pebble along the path.
The monk Gautama went from meditating on his body to meditating on his feelings, and from meditating on his feelings to meditating on
his perceptions, including all the thoughts which rose and fell in his own mind. He saw the oneness of body and mind, that each and every
cell of the body contained all the wisdom of the universe. He saw that he needed only to look deeply into a speck of dust to see the true
face of the entire universe, that the speck of dust was itself the universe and if it did not exist, the universe could not exist either. The monk
Gautama went beyond the idea of a separate self, of atman, and, with a start, realized that he had long been dominated by a false view of
atman as expounded in the Vedas. In reality, all things were without a separate self. Non-self, or anatman, was the nature of all existence.
Anatman was not a term to describe some new entity. It was a thunderbolt that destroyed all wrong views. Taking hold of non-self,
Siddhartha was like a general raising his sharp sword of insight on the battlefield of meditation practice. Day and night he sat beneath the
pippala tree, as new levels of awareness awoke in him like bright flashes of lightning.
During this time, Siddhartha’s five friends lost faith in him. They saw him sitting along the river bank eating food offerings. They watched
him speak and smile to a young girl, enjoy milk and rice, and carry his bowl down into the village. Kondanna said to the others, “Siddhartha
is no longer someone we can rely on. He has abandoned the path half-way. He now concerns himself only with idly feeding his body. We
should leave him and seek another place to continue our practice. I see no reason to continue here.”
Only after his five friends had departed, did Siddhartha notice their absence. Encouraged by his new insights, Siddhartha had devoted all
his time to meditation and had not yet taken the time to explain this to his friends. He thought, “My friends have misunderstood me, but I
can’t worry now about convincing them otherwise. I must devote myself to finding the true path. Once I have found it, I will share it with
them.” Then he returned to his daily practice.
During those same days in which he made such great progress along the path, the young buffalo boy Svasti appeared. Siddhartha
cheerfully accepted the handfuls of fresh grass the eleven-year-old boy offered him. Though Sujata, Svasti, and their friends were still
children, Siddhartha shared with them some of his new understanding. He was happy to see how unschooled children from the countryside
could easily understand his discoveries. He was greatly heartened, for he knew that the door of complete enlightenment would soon open
wide. He knew he held the wondrous key—the truth of the interdependent and non-self nature of all things.