In most depictions, the Buddha is serene: a calming presence.
He represents the art of observing both suffering and joy with neutrality.
Not clinging to either. Not rejecting either.
Seeing them as tools that can shape the artisan, or break them.

But there’s another, lesser-known figure: the Starving Buddha.
A skeletal frame, ribs exposed, yet eyes soft and meditative.
He embodies not just detachment, but the extreme of it. In needing all, but wanting nothing.

Sometimes I think about that image when I scroll through social media.
We’re told to be endlessly resilient, endlessly self contained, To project strength while our inner resources run dry.
The Starving Buddha becomes a metaphor for this:
A spirit that appears invulnerable, but is carried by a body on the edge of breaking.

The regular Buddha isn’t about appearances but he’s almost invisible.
The Starving Buddha draws the eye, yet he is carved entirely out of self-denial.

At our best, we’re looking for a meeting point between these two A place where presence doesn’t require spectacle,
And strength doesn’t demand sacrifice.
It’s hard to see where they meet in harmony.
Maybe that’s why the search feels endless.