The sacred Hindu syllable "Om" recurs in Siddhartha as a motif that signifies spiritual concentration. According to the Upanishads, Om is God in the form of sound, and in Hesse's novel, Siddhartha's eventual understanding of Om marks his entrance into enlightenment. He encounters it at key moments throughout the text. For instance, in Chapter 1, Siddhartha says a few verses aloud in preparation for speaking the Om:
They went to the banyan tree, they sat down, here Siddhartha, twenty paces further Govinda. Sitting down, ready to speak the om, Siddhartha, murmuring, repeated the verses:
Om is bow, the arrow is soul,
Brahma is the arrow’s goal,
It must be struck unswervingly.
The metaphor "Om is bow" means that Om is an instrument of enlightenment. It corresponds to the "arrow" of the soul, which shoots off from its starting place into the realm of enlightenment. These verses help bring order to Siddhartha's mind, which itself becomes an instrument in contemplation of higher states of being. He shows great reverence for the sacred syllable in his concentrated preparation.
Chapter 11—titled "Om"—solidifies the sacred syllable as a central motif of the novel. At the beginning of this chapter, Siddhartha contemplates his burgeoning mind and soul. He begins to notice within himself "Slowly blossomed, slowly ripened [...] the insight, the knowledge of what wisdom actually is." However, he does not fully experience this knowledge until he experiences "Om." Upon seeking the counsel of the wise ferryman Vasudeva, he learns to listen to the river:
And when Siddhartha listened attentively to this river, listened to this song of a thousand voices, when he did not listen to sorrow or laughter, when he did not bind his soul to any one voice and did not enter them with his ego, but listened to all of them, heard the wholeness, the oneness—then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word, which was “om”: perfection.
Here Siddhartha sees that Om is not "any one voice" but rather the sound of "wholeness" and "oneness." In other words, Om is the gateway to enlightenment—a state in which one understands the unity of the universe. Rather than speaking verses, or repeating written lines, Siddhartha learns to listen. Om is not something that one speaks; nor is it true knowledge. It is something for which one must listen. The word's presence throughout the story as a recurring motif reminds the reader of Siddhartha's progressive understanding of how to achieve freedom from suffering and how to perceive the wholeness of the universe through patient contemplation.
Spiritual immaturity—the opposite of enlightenment—emerges as a motif in the first half of Siddhartha. It takes two forms: numbness and passivity. At the very beginning of the story, Siddhartha often feels the need to become wise; however, he is never quite satisfied with his spiritual progress. In Chapter 2, he joins the ascetic Samanas in an effort to develop his body and mind, but he feels only "numbness":
But in my exercises and meditations [as an ascetic], I have found only brief numbing and I am still as far from wisdom, from redemption as when I was a baby in my mother’s womb—
As Siddhartha observes, bodily deprivation results only in "brief numbing" of the senses. He compares his experience to that of an ox-driver who gets drunk on rice wine. Like the ox driver, Siddhartha has learned to escape from life and "linger in the nonself." But this state, he decides, is as far from wisdom as that of a "baby in [his] mother's womb." This simile, which compares Siddhartha to an infant, reminds the reader that he remains in his own spiritual infancy. He feels frustrated that despite becoming a man, he cannot seem to find satisfaction in his pursuits. The sensual "numbing" of asceticism provides no solution or satisfaction. On the contrary, it drives him to experiment at the opposite extremity of existence: indulgent materialism.
Passivity is the second form of spiritual immaturity. For example, Siddhartha wonders about the wisdom of knowing versus the wisdom of living in Chapter 1:
Wonderful wisdom was in these verses, all the wisdom of the wisest was gathered here in magical words[...]
But where were the Brahmins, where the priests, where the sages or penitents who had succeeded in not only knowing this deepest knowledge but also living it?
Young Siddhartha knows that holy texts like the Rigveda and Upanishads contain great wisdom. But where, he muses, are the wise men who not only know the words but rather live by them? The distinction between words and life prevails throughout the novel, and Siddhartha finally discovers that the true wisdom of life can only be found through active experience. One cannot become enlightened merely by reading, by depriving oneself, or by indulging in senseless pleasures. One cannot live passively in the shadow of another person, as Govinda does, or merely accept the teachings of a book. Passivity complements numbness, as both are states of non-being; passivity is non-action and numbness is non-feeling. By contrast, Siddhartha's own enlightenment requires action and inspires a great depth of feeling. The motif of spiritual immaturity in the first part of the novel creates a contrast with Siddhartha's eventual maturity in enlightenment and enhances the text's emotional arc.
Spiritual immaturity—the opposite of enlightenment—emerges as a motif in the first half of Siddhartha. It takes two forms: numbness and passivity. At the very beginning of the story, Siddhartha often feels the need to become wise; however, he is never quite satisfied with his spiritual progress. In Chapter 2, he joins the ascetic Samanas in an effort to develop his body and mind, but he feels only "numbness":
But in my exercises and meditations [as an ascetic], I have found only brief numbing and I am still as far from wisdom, from redemption as when I was a baby in my mother’s womb—
As Siddhartha observes, bodily deprivation results only in "brief numbing" of the senses. He compares his experience to that of an ox-driver who gets drunk on rice wine. Like the ox driver, Siddhartha has learned to escape from life and "linger in the nonself." But this state, he decides, is as far from wisdom as that of a "baby in [his] mother's womb." This simile, which compares Siddhartha to an infant, reminds the reader that he remains in his own spiritual infancy. He feels frustrated that despite becoming a man, he cannot seem to find satisfaction in his pursuits. The sensual "numbing" of asceticism provides no solution or satisfaction. On the contrary, it drives him to experiment at the opposite extremity of existence: indulgent materialism.
Passivity is the second form of spiritual immaturity. For example, Siddhartha wonders about the wisdom of knowing versus the wisdom of living in Chapter 1:
Wonderful wisdom was in these verses, all the wisdom of the wisest was gathered here in magical words[...]
But where were the Brahmins, where the priests, where the sages or penitents who had succeeded in not only knowing this deepest knowledge but also living it?
Young Siddhartha knows that holy texts like the Rigveda and Upanishads contain great wisdom. But where, he muses, are the wise men who not only know the words but rather live by them? The distinction between words and life prevails throughout the novel, and Siddhartha finally discovers that the true wisdom of life can only be found through active experience. One cannot become enlightened merely by reading, by depriving oneself, or by indulging in senseless pleasures. One cannot live passively in the shadow of another person, as Govinda does, or merely accept the teachings of a book. Passivity complements numbness, as both are states of non-being; passivity is non-action and numbness is non-feeling. By contrast, Siddhartha's own enlightenment requires action and inspires a great depth of feeling. The motif of spiritual immaturity in the first part of the novel creates a contrast with Siddhartha's eventual maturity in enlightenment and enhances the text's emotional arc.
Repetition recurs as a stylistic motif in Siddhartha that highlights the titular character's fixation on enlightenment. Throughout the story, Siddhartha keeps a strict focus on spiritual satisfaction. When he goes to live with the Samanas in Chapter 2, he makes his goal very clear:
Siddhartha had a goal, a single one: to become empty—empty of thirst, empty of desire, empty of dreams, empty of joy and sorrow. To die away from himself, no longer be self, to find peace with an emptied heart, to be open to miracles in unselfed thinking: that was his goal.
Here the narrator repeats two words: "goal" and "empty." The first word reminds the reader that Siddhartha has one singular desire: to achieve enlightenment. The second takes the form of an anaphora—that is, it appears at the beginning of four dependent clauses: "empty of thirst, empty of desire, empty of dreams [.]" At this point in the story, Siddhartha wholeheartedly believes that the answer to his spiritual questions lies in the practice of asceticism, hence the emphasis on "emptiness" in relation to his goal. However, he soon discovers that he cannot achieve enlightenment through ascetic practices.
Repetition recurs in the same chapter when Siddhartha attempts to empty himself of his own identity through a process called "unselfing":
Taught by the eldest of the samanas, Siddhartha practiced unselfing [...] A heron flew over the bamboo forest—and Siddhartha took the heron into his soul, flew over forests and mountains, was a heron, ate fish, hungered heron hunger, spoke heron croaking, died heron death [...] And Siddhartha’s soul returned, was dead, was rotted, was dispersed[...]
Here Siddhartha takes a heron into his soul and the word "heron" reappears many times to underscore his focus on entering another animal's consciousness. One might expect meditation to be inspirational, or at least peaceful. But in this passage, repetition creates a monotonous rhythm that evokes the negative, unsettling feeling of unselfing. When Siddhartha's soul returns to his body, it "was dead, was rotted, was dispersed." In other words, he finds little or no fulfillment in this practice. The only thing it is good for in the long term is to show him the consequences of emptying oneself and ignoring one's own soul. Siddhartha is not at all inspired by the ways of the Samanas; in fact, their practices greatly limit his spiritual growth. Repetition appears in the first stages of his journey to express his limitation, frustration, and fixation on the incorrect paths to enlightenment.
In Siddhartha, birds become a recurring motif that signifies freedom of the soul. For example, Kamala keeps a rare songbird in a gilded cage, and in Chapter 7 Siddhartha dreams of its death:
And in those moments he had a dream: Kamala kept a small, rare songbird in a gold cage [...] He dreamed that this bird, which normally sang in the morning, had grown mute, and noticing this, he went over to the cage and peered inside. The little bird was dead, lying stiff on the bottom. He took it out, weighed it in his hand for a moment and then threw it away [...] he was terribly frightened, and his heart ached as if, with this dead bird, he had thrown away all value and all goodness.
This passage suggests that Siddhartha feels trapped in the society of the Child People, much like a bird in a cage. Despite having access to food and drink and pleasure, he remains unsatisfied and restless. The "mute[ness]" of the bird symbolizes the increasing numbness of his soul as he engages in meaningless activities. And his act of tossing its dead body suggests that if he stays in Kamala's town any longer, he will have "thrown away all value and all goodness." In order to free his mind and body, he must continue his journey elsewhere.
In the same chapter, Kamala releases her bird, which represents her letting Siddhartha go out into the world:
When she heard the first news of Siddhartha’s disappearance, she stepped over to the window, where she kept a rare songbird in a gold cage. She opened the door of the cage, took out the bird, and let it fly. She watched and watched it, the flying bird. From that day on she received no more visitors and kept her house locked. After a time she realized that she was pregnant from her last meeting with Siddhartha.
Much like the songbird, Siddhartha must leave Kamala in order to survive and seek enlightenment. His soul must be freed from the numbness of asceticism and the indulgences of materialism; otherwise, he will feel trapped and useless. Kamala loves him and misses him very much, but she understands that his happiness depends on spiritual progress. This moment also marks a turning point in the story: Kamala discovers that she is pregnant, and she decides to receive "no more visitors" and locks up her house. Her inward retreat contrasts with Siddhartha's outward expansion and demonstrates her respect for him and his future son. Interestingly, in Chapter 10, Vasudeva refers to Kamala's son as a "young bird" who prefers the gilded cage of a town to the struggle of nomadic spiritualism. By contrast, Siddhartha demonstrates an urgent need to make progress and free his soul from the constraints of material existence; birds recur in the text to symbolically highlight his desire for freedom.
The sacred Hindu syllable "Om" recurs in Siddhartha as a motif that signifies spiritual concentration. According to the Upanishads, Om is God in the form of sound, and in Hesse's novel, Siddhartha's eventual understanding of Om marks his entrance into enlightenment. He encounters it at key moments throughout the text. For instance, in Chapter 1, Siddhartha says a few verses aloud in preparation for speaking the Om:
They went to the banyan tree, they sat down, here Siddhartha, twenty paces further Govinda. Sitting down, ready to speak the om, Siddhartha, murmuring, repeated the verses:
Om is bow, the arrow is soul,
Brahma is the arrow’s goal,
It must be struck unswervingly.
The metaphor "Om is bow" means that Om is an instrument of enlightenment. It corresponds to the "arrow" of the soul, which shoots off from its starting place into the realm of enlightenment. These verses help bring order to Siddhartha's mind, which itself becomes an instrument in contemplation of higher states of being. He shows great reverence for the sacred syllable in his concentrated preparation.
Chapter 11—titled "Om"—solidifies the sacred syllable as a central motif of the novel. At the beginning of this chapter, Siddhartha contemplates his burgeoning mind and soul. He begins to notice within himself "Slowly blossomed, slowly ripened [...] the insight, the knowledge of what wisdom actually is." However, he does not fully experience this knowledge until he experiences "Om." Upon seeking the counsel of the wise ferryman Vasudeva, he learns to listen to the river:
And when Siddhartha listened attentively to this river, listened to this song of a thousand voices, when he did not listen to sorrow or laughter, when he did not bind his soul to any one voice and did not enter them with his ego, but listened to all of them, heard the wholeness, the oneness—then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word, which was “om”: perfection.
Here Siddhartha sees that Om is not "any one voice" but rather the sound of "wholeness" and "oneness." In other words, Om is the gateway to enlightenment—a state in which one understands the unity of the universe. Rather than speaking verses, or repeating written lines, Siddhartha learns to listen. Om is not something that one speaks; nor is it true knowledge. It is something for which one must listen. The word's presence throughout the story as a recurring motif reminds the reader of Siddhartha's progressive understanding of how to achieve freedom from suffering and how to perceive the wholeness of the universe through patient contemplation.
