Happy Buddha Day

Today, Buddhists everywhere celebrate the life of Buddha. Sort of like Christmas, except without the crass commercialism.

I have always loved Buddha. As a kid, we always had at least one statue of him around the house. Officially, we were Catholic, but it was also the 70s and everyone was a little bit hippy. My mom loved incense and wind chimes and Indian and Chinese art (my older siblings simply loved pot). My favorite Buddha, somewhat ironically, was a plaster coin bank that was so heavy with change that it was nearly immobile. I wonder what Buddha would have made of that.

Regardless, as a child, I could relate to Buddha more than I could Christ. Even off the cross, Jesus was serious and sad. And a little bit scary: we had a picture of him on our stairs that showed his heart outside of his body and either on fire or crowned with thorns.

But Buddha was either cheerful or beautifully serene. His statues were magnets for children; as kids, and later my nieces and nephews, we loved rubbing his tummy, which we were told would bring us luck. As an adult, I feel such peace and love when I look at paintings and statues of him.

Unless it's the buddha bank, which is now at my sister's house. Then I'm thinking about how I can steal it from her. She can keep the money, I just want the statue.