I am a rather large person, at 6 foot and 1 inch. I’m no giant, but my height can be exaggerated by my daddy-long-legs body type, too, as my reach extends further than my height suggests. My eating follows a similar pattern, where the breadth of my diet exceeds my necessity. Before I started my Buddhist practice, I was a pound shy of 200lbs and my frame and body were not exactly happy with this gain. I was not morbidly obese by any standard, but I was factually overweight. My genetics, high metabolism, and active lifestyle helped play a role in keeping my weight down, but eating 1/2 of a Costco pumpkin pie in a sitting, or going through a full rack of pork ribs wasn't out of the question. In short, I ate a lot, did a lot of physical activity, and I was simply a large, consumptive person.
After some personal struggles, I began to question how frequently I would return to food in an attempt to satiate some need for personal happiness and satisfaction. I am and was definitely a foodie and would regularly take great care in what I ate, analyze the flavors, and take particular judgement in the quality of the food. However, I would often overlook or make too many concessions when critically evaluating the sheer quantity of food.
The 4 breakfast incident became emblematic of this problem. I would get up, have a small bowl of cereal. Afterwards, I would make some oatmeal for my sons and a croissant breakfast sandwich with bacon and egg and some grated cheese. When that was done, I would notice my kids left a ton of oatmeal on the table so I would eat that, too. On my way to work, I would stop by Blenders, a central coast smoothie franchise, and I would pickup a peanut butter smoothie with an extra multivitamin shot because, you know, just in case I don't get my nutrients in for the rest of the day.
Excuse after excuse would justify or overlook this excessive consumption, until I was in a place of ddeep unhappiness and I could no longer satiate this attachment. After all, if this was truely bringing me happiness, how could I be so miserable? Why was I so stressed and rushed every morning, morning after morning, despite tasting all of these wonderful and delicious flavors I thought added value to my happiness?
In May 2025, I decided to reduced my diet to one meal a day. I did this to honor many Buddhist monks who's practice was to consume only one meal a day. In addition to their practice, they would carry an alms bowl that would, according to Dōgen, acts as a measuring bowl too. Their meal would also not be selective of quality, and often would rely on donations given to the monastery as appreciation for the relationship and service the monastery provided. I especially appreciated this last detail as this forces monasteries not to recede inside of their own belief systems or exist in isolation. Instead, monasteries have to regularly provide services for the community they belong to in order to justify alms. Either that, or they must be entirely self-sufficient.
Returning to my own practice, I saw this as an opportunity to challenge my own mental capacities. If I was able to find unhappiness when I was full, would I also be able to find happiness when I was empty? I set a quiet, personal goal to go without food until after 4pm. This was not a strict, dietary rule, but rather a mental rule and I followed it to train my mind and learn how my body and mind reacted to cessation and restriction. This was surprisingly easy, when I was able to follow a few key rules.
First of all, I told myself regularly that I did not have to do this. This was a choice and I wished to do it. This emphasis on agency and personal choice ensured that whenever I reached or desired food, I would actively shift my choices and remember why I was doing the practice to begin with: to develop a more cultivated and trained mind. Second of all, this was about the mind and not the body. I would, of course, monitor my weight and take care of the nutrient requirements. I would allow myself to eat if I desperately needed to; if it was a health concern. However, I never had to take advantage of this.
Meditation come in as another crucial component in this dietary restriction. My meditation sessions were short as this was my first time truely meditating. My hips were not exactly open for true half lotus posture (zezen), but I would still meditate in stillness, often with observation of nature, at least 2-5 times a day in approximately 10-30 minute increments.
During meditation, I would often emphasize that I was not as hungry as I believed. I would extend my stomach, receed it, and I would often notice that through that breath my hunger would often discipate. I would also notice that my stomach was far more 'full' feeling than I believed at first. Finally, I would notice that tiredness, not hunger, truly tormented me.
During the first few weeks, I began to notice a certain pattern. I was working during this time, so my body following this pattern: morning solidity (6am to Noon), Noon torment (noon to 1pm), 'fasting' high (1pm to 4pm), feasting (4pm to 5pm), sluggishness and sporadic thought (5pm to 7pm), rest and reflection (8pm to sleep around 10pm). The 'fasting' high, in particular, was the most fascinating of this experience. During this time, I was truly, genuinely happy, as happy as I ever have been. However, I noticed a specific cognitive decline and slowness in my speech. This was not unwelcome, as I have a tendency to exhibit ADHD style symptoms in my regular state of existence; I am rather high strung and the human embodiment of a border collie. The unwelcome part was the cessation of this 'fasting' high about a week later, as my body adjusted to the new routine. In reflection, I miss the slowness and the clarity of those moments.
After a few weeks, my weight dropped rather quickly. As I write this, a few months later, I am sitting in the low 180 lbs, a far more suitable weight for my frame. I am hoping that my weight continues to reduce into the mid 170s, but I keep reminding myself to ensure my mind is set, and the body will follow. My weight loss was approximately 2-5 lbs a week, or roughly 1-2.5% of my bodyweight, which felt comfortable and within the range of a healthy normality.
More significantly, some incredibly transformative things began to happen to my mind. This mantra became something I would repeatedly come back to: I have often found suffering while full, and I have often found happiness when empty. This was an affirmation of my mind’s strength over my body and the power of my mind to shape my reality. Food was not providing me a cessation from suffering but rather amplifying it. Instead of reducing my misery and anxiety, I was often feeding it with excessive consumption of everything around me. Instead of viewing my hunger as an opportunity to slow down and reflect, I would view it as an enemy. Truly, my hunger became my friend, and this also became a permanent routine. As I write this months later, I avoid eating full meals until after 2pm and have shifted my routine to also include more vegetarian meals and smaller portions.
Another key mantra helped me, too: how quickly it all fades. After eating, I was surprised by how quickly I had forgotten about my hunger and how quickly I was able to redirect my mind. During hunger, I was surprised by how quickly many of my other attachments (often negative and poisonous) would fall into the backdrop of my mind. It became apparent to me that I was happier many days when I was hungry because I only had 1 attachment (hunger) that would act as a friend. When I was full, my mind would seek other attachments (work, materials, chores, debt) and I would often find myself far more stressed, frantic, and worried when full.
This was why the period after my feasting (around 5pm to 7pm) was characterized by a more frantic mindset. When I had a 'full battery' of nutrition and was placed back into my over consumptive state, my mind reflected that over-comsumption. I quickly became attached to worries I had forgotten when I was in my hunger state or fasting high, and my mind struggled to find the same peace and direction during meditation that I had found in the morning or during my quiet, school-hours meditations sessions before I would head home.
Now while I sing the praises of this ‘transformation,’ I should note how incremental these changes have been. I should not paint myself as a saint or bodhisattva, either, as I had two issues regularly plaguing this routine in the first month: alcohol consumption and overeating.
While I was happy to restrain my food consumption, I was not ready to restrain my alcohol consumption. I would routinely drink, though my hungry state allowed me to reduce this alcohol consumption. I have serious problems with how my American, southern California and central California context normalizes excessive alcohol consumption, but I have yet to truly attack this problem within myself. I enjoy alcohol, but I do not find it virtuous. I do not drink and drive and I do not have any negative behavioral or health benefits through my alcohol consumption, but does this make it virtuous? Should I wait until my liver fails or until I am unable to control my anger?
I have a conflict within me best exemplified by my 3rd or 4th day during this nutritional cessation period. School was done, and my wife and I had made plans for a local Sushi and Ramen restaurant. They did not open until 5, so I found myself at a brewery for the 30 minutes I had to wait. I enjoyed a pint, around a 9% IPA, and found myself in a euphoric state. I went over to the restaurant and enjoyed one of the best meals of my life: tonkatsu ramen, tempura veggies, misc. sushi, all with my wife and sons.
How am I not to try and relive this again?
My continuously positive experiences, similar to this, have grown my attachment to this routine. I did not drink a dozen beers, or even two. Instead, I enjoyed one and enjoyed a wonderful meal with the family. Yet, I know the authenticity of the experience was spoiled by the beer. Would I not have been equally happy if I had not simply eaten with my family instead, sober? Would I not have benefitted more from meditating rather than drinking those 30 minutes before?
However, I gave myself grace on this sensory pleasure for one reason: I was and am (as I type this) brand new. I was challenging a key feature of my being (excess of food) and this was enough of a challenge at the moment. I wanted to make small, lasting changes incrementally rather than attempt to become an esthetic monk in one go; I was not ready yet, and may not be in this lifetime.
After about a month, I made another cut to this pattern: alcohol. At the moment, I do not drink unless with friends, though this is a cut I wish to make in the future as well. I will acknowledge my attachment now and acknowledge my failure here and ask for grace. However, I will also continue to think within the moment and practice, and hope that this continued practice will ultimately lead to the abandonment of that attachment.
Overeating was another failure, as I would often overeat once my ‘single’ meal came. These meals often consisted of meat, as well, and I would often be sluggish and weary after consuming everything. I am still working on the balance and I am learning and studying the monks that have measured bowls to ensure proper consumption. Dōgen provides incredible guidance in his writings, too, and I will seek to improve in time.
A wonderful side effect of eating with such restraint includes the quality of each meal, too. Each meal's value and taste was increased tenfold and my appreciate of each flavor increased as well. When my local ramen (which is objectively excellent) is experienced as the only meal of the day, the thought of minimizing its creation and quality with unnecessary comparison to other locations is not present. Instead, I was present in the moment, with each bite, engaged in my existence.
With these flaws in the open and in reflection, I move forward in my continued practice. Should anything offend or be problematic, I must ask for grace and forgiveness.
May you be well.
Written July 8, 2025
Last Edited July 8, 2025