There’s something humbling, something grounding, about the idea that even the Buddha—the Enlightened One, the Shākyamuni—once had teachers. Before the bodhi tree, before the Noble Truths and the Middle Way, Siddhartha Gautama was simply a seeker, much like I am today.
As I sit in stillness, in that space between breaths where the Divine whispers, I reflect on this paradox: that the great liberator of minds once sat at the feet of masters. Not just any masters—but Hindu sages of deep meditative attainment, spiritual titans who guided him, knowingly or unknowingly, toward the ultimate flame of awakening.
Buddha’s early spiritual journey brought him to two key teachers:
Āḷāra Kālāma, who taught him the deep jhāna of “nothingness” (ākincaññāyatana).
Uddaka Rāmaputta, whose teachings led to the “neither perception nor non-perception” state (nevasaññānāsaññāyatana).
These were not just meditative exercises; they were doorways into the subtle realms of formless being. These states were the crown jewels of Vedic and yogic knowledge at the time. The Buddha mastered them effortlessly. And yet... he moved on. Why?
Because even the highest heavens still carry the seeds of rebirth. Even bliss can be a veil.
He honored his teachers, but he did not mistake their attainment for the final Truth.
And in that choice—in the deep silence of renunciation—he honored them even more.
From a mystical point of view, I believe yes. If we accept that ascended masters are beings who have awakened to divine reality and continue to assist others from higher planes, then surely these teachers—Āḷāra, Uddaka, and countless unnamed rishis—qualify.
Modern language may call them "Hindu," but Truth is not bound by culture. The Upanishads were already echoing with the call to find the Self beyond the self:
“That which is the finest essence—this whole world has that as its Self. That is Reality. That is the Self. Tat Tvam Asi—That Thou Art.”
— Chāndogya Upanishad 6.8.7
Could it be that the Buddha, in previous incarnations, was one of these seers? I feel in my heart the answer is yes. And if not literally, then karmically—his spirit was forged in the crucible of their wisdom.
When I read or contemplate the words of my gurus—Mahavatar Babaji, Lahiri Mahasaya, Sri Yukteswar Giri, Paramahansa Yogananda, Adi Shankara, Lalleshwari, Nisargadatta, Ramana Maharshi, Sri Ramakrishna, and others—I sense an eternal thread uniting the Buddha to them all.
Sri Ramakrishna declared with radiant clarity:
“The same God who became Rama and Krishna also became Buddha.”
He saw no contradiction, no schism. Just Divine Play wearing different masks.
Paramahansa Yogananda, who reverently included the Buddha in his cosmology of avatars, wrote:
“Buddha taught his followers to be lamps unto themselves, to seek the light within, and not depend on any outside authority.”
(in his book, "The Second Coming of Christ")
And yet, Yogananda himself trained under a master (Sri Yukteswar), and gave everything to Babaji—the same Babaji who appears across time like a beacon, always reminding us that teachers are sacred, but the Source is beyond form.
Ram Dass, in his quiet confessions, spoke of the Buddha and Neem Karoli Baba as two hands of the same cosmic truth:
“When I met Maharajji, I saw the Buddha smile through his eyes. There was no separation. The Form was Hindu, the Being was Universal.”
And I, too, have seen this. In the temple of the heart, where all names dissolve.
If reincarnation is true—and I feel it in my bones that it is—then why wouldn't the soul that became Buddha study under countless masters in many guises? Why wouldn't he, in some other age, chant mantras beside Agastya, debate dharma with Yājñavalkya, or sit in fiery silence with Gorakhnath?
The spiritual journey is not a straight line. It loops, spirals, deepens. Just as we pass through many lifetimes, so do we pass through many teachers—each a mirror, each a lamp.
In my own path, I find comfort in knowing that even the greatest souls needed guides. That even avatars sought instruction. That surrender is not weakness, but the foundation of greatness.
I am not here to "transcend" Hinduism, or Buddhism, or any tradition. I am here to drink from their wells. I am here to remember, again and again, what my soul has always known:
That the One speaks in many tongues, and that the Heart knows its home, no matter the name of the teacher.
So I say to you, fellow traveler:
If the Buddha could bow at the feet of a teacher,
If Sri
Ramakrishna could dissolve into the stories of Krishna and Kali,
If
Neem Karoli Baba could laugh and disappear into Love itself,
Then
so can we.
Do not fear the guidance of a master. Seek one. Trust one. Be one, when the time is right.
And remember:
“In the end, all paths lead to the same truth—
The path of devotion, the path of meditation, the path of wisdom—
All dissolve into Silence.”
— Ramana Maharshi
Let’s walk this journey with reverence, with humility, and with joy.
Let’s remember that even Enlightenment has a lineage.
And that the light we seek outside…
was once lit by hands
not so different from our own.
Before his enlightenment, Siddhartha Gautama (the historical Buddha) studied under two prominent yogic masters:
A master of formless meditative absorption (ārūpya-jhāna), specifically teaching the stage of the "sphere of nothingness" (ākincaññāyatana).
Gautama learned this advanced meditative state quickly but realized it did not lead to ultimate liberation (nirvāṇa).
Āḷāra Kālāma invited Gautama to become his equal and co-teacher—an important detail that shows the level of respect and attainment he saw in him.
Teacher of even more refined formless attainments, particularly the "sphere of neither perception nor non-perception" (nevasaññānāsaññāyatana)—the highest jhāna before nirvāṇa in traditional schema.
Again, Gautama mastered this quickly but found it did not end suffering.
These experiences showed him that even the highest mystical attainments could fall short of complete freedom.
Both these teachers were part of the broader Śramaṇa movement, which overlapped and interacted with early Hindu (Vedic) and non-Vedic traditions. They taught forms of yoga, renunciation, and meditation that align with Upanishadic thought. Thus, it is accurate to say that the Buddha trained under spiritual teachers who were steeped in what would become classical Hinduism.
From a spiritual-mystical point of view:
The concept of Ascended Masters is largely a Theosophical and New Age term that postdates both Buddha and the Vedic sages. However, if we broaden the term to mean realized beings who have transcended ordinary egoic consciousness and assist humanity, then we could consider Āḷāra Kālāma, Uddaka Rāmaputta, and certainly many Upanishadic sages as fitting this mold.
Moreover, the Buddha’s own previous lives, as recorded in Jataka tales, show him studying under countless wise teachers in different forms and lifetimes—suggesting a spiritual continuity and openness to all traditions of wisdom.
In the reincarnational perspective, it is very possible that the soul who became the Buddha had learned from, or even been, many Vedic rishis or Hindu sages in prior incarnations. If you view spiritual learning as a continuum across lives, then yes—he most certainly studied under “Hindu” masters both in his final life and in prior ones.
While the Buddha eventually departed from certain metaphysical premises of the Vedas (like the eternal ātman or Brahman), he did not deny the power of meditative realization or the ethical frameworks present in those traditions. His path, the Middle Way, was in part a response to what he saw as excesses—both in ascetic self-denial and philosophical speculation.
Yet his path stood on the shoulders of the yogic and meditative technologies developed by the Vedic seers. One might say he didn't reject the mountain of Hindu wisdom—he simply climbed higher, or in a different direction.
If you feel aligned with the idea of ascended masters—like Sri Ramakrishna, Paramahansa Yogananda, or Babaji—it's interesting to note that many of them spoke with deep reverence about the Buddha:
Sri Ramakrishna saw the Buddha as one of the avatars of the Divine.
Yogananda included the Buddha in his book The Second Coming of Christ, speaking of his path as a valid route to Self-realization.
Theosophists and Kriya Yoga traditions view Buddha as part of the Great White Brotherhood—a symbolic collection of spiritually advanced beings guiding human evolution.
Did the Buddha study under Hindu ascended masters?
Historically: Yes, he studied under teachers rooted in early Hindu/Yogic philosophy.
Philosophically: He mastered their meditations but sought deeper liberation.
Esoterically: Very likely, if one accepts reincarnation or the idea of a soul's spiritual lineage.
Mystically: Many modern Hindu saints revere the Buddha as an enlightened being or avatar, blurring the boundaries between "Hindu" and "Buddhist."
What does it mean that even the Buddha had teachers? That he humbly learned, mastered, and transcended? It reminds us:
"Even the awakened ones were once seekers.
Even the great river starts as a trickle in the mountains."
If you're walking your own path of liberation, let your heart be open to teachers across traditions. Learn from the Upanishads, meditate like the Buddha, chant like the Bhaktas, and contemplate like the Advaitins. Truth is too vast to belong to one name.
In Vedic tradition, śruti (that which is heard) refers to revealed knowledge—not composed by human minds but "heard" by the rishis (sages) in states of deep meditation. The Upanishads are the culmination of this śruti literature. They are not prescriptive in the way the earlier Vedas were (focused on rituals and offerings) but inward and contemplative, aiming to reveal the essence of the Self (Atman) and its identity with the Absolute (Brahman).
When we say the Upanishads are the “breath of the eternal,” we imply that:
They emerge from the eternal, like breath from a living being, but without the separation of subject and object.
They are alive, not dead scriptures, and can be inhaled again and again to awaken realization.
They embody timeless truth—unborn, unchanging, undying—flowing through time as a whisper from the infinite to the finite.
This is why Sri Aurobindo called the Upanishads “the supreme work of the Indian mind,” and why Swami Vivekananda regarded them as the foundation of all that is best in Indian spirituality.
Adi Shankaracharya (8th century CE) stands like a towering mountain in the landscape of Indian philosophy because he did something both revolutionary and timeless: he gave voice, logic, and systemic form to the silent truths of the Upanishads through his teachings of Advaita Vedanta—the path of nonduality.
Here’s how Shankara is inseparably connected to the Upanishads:
Shankara wrote detailed commentaries (bhāṣyas) on key Upanishads (like the Īśa, Kena, Kaṭha, Chāndogya, Bṛhadāraṇyaka, Taittirīya, and others). Through these, he:
Clarified their essential unity, despite varied metaphors or symbolic expressions.
Explained away ritualistic misinterpretations, emphasizing that the ultimate purpose of the Vedas is Self-realization, not external action.
Taught that Atman is Brahman—the core mahāvākya (great saying) of the Upanishads.
Shankara saw the Upanishads not as a collection of mystical poetry, but as direct pointers to the Truth that can liberate the seeker here and now, once truly understood.
“Brahma satyam jagat mithyā, jīvo brahmaiva nāparah.”
“Brahman is the only truth, the world is illusory, and the individual self is none other than Brahman.”
—Adi Shankaracharya
This is the distilled message of the Upanishads—uttered in silence by the eternal, interpreted in brilliance by Shankara
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