We often underestimate how deeply we rely on food for solace. For many of us, eating is not just about nutrition; it is a psychological anchor, a source of comfort that we cling to more than we realize. I discovered the true extent of this attachment in 2002, when I took the Bodhisattva Precepts and committed to the practice of Six Fasting Days each month.
On these days, I follow the ancient Buddhist tradition of Vikāla-bhojanā—abstaining from food after midday. Traditionally, monastics finish their final meal before the sun reaches its zenith. The purpose is clear: to reduce sensory desire, keep the mind sharp for meditation, and simplify one's life.
In the beginning, this practice was a battle. As soon as I finished my lunch on a fasting day, a sense of anxiety would creep in. By the afternoon, I felt "starving." By evening, I felt weak, my mind counting down the hours until sunrise so I could eat again.
However, I noticed something strange. On non-fasting days, I often had no appetite for dinner anyway due to my sensitive stomach. I could go without an evening meal quite easily and still have plenty of energy for work. But the moment the rule of the fasting day was applied, my mind became unsettled.
This revealed a profound truth: my "hunger" was not a physiological need, but a psychological obsession. It was the fear of an empty stomach—a craving to "fill the void"—and a deep-seated belief that I must eat to have strength.
At one point, I tried to "outsmart" the hunger by eating a massive lunch on fasting days. This turned out to be a disaster. The overeating caused indigestion, making me feel far more miserable than hunger ever did. It was a physical reminder that the middle path is always best.
It took me ten years of consistent practice to finally realize that hunger is just a sensation—a feeling that arises and passes. If you focus on it, it grows. If you simply observe it without judgment, it loses its power over you.
Once I stopped fighting the sensation of hunger, I began to see the immense benefits of not eating in the evening:
Mental Clarity: Without the body’s energy being diverted to heavy digestion, my brain felt incredibly sharp and light.
Abundance of Time: I was shocked by how much time we spend planning, preparing, eating, and cleaning up after dinner. Suddenly, I had hours of extra time for study and reflection.
Restorative Sleep: I slept much more deeply and woke up feeling refreshed and buoyant, rather than sluggish.
Deepened Meditation: In Buddhism, the practice of Śamatha (calming the mind) and Vipaśyanā (insight) is significantly more effective when the body is light. My meditation sessions on fasting days became much more stable and focused.
Today, modern science touts the benefits of "intermittent fasting" for physical health, but for me, the spiritual training is what matters most. It is a practice of voluntary restraint. It teaches us that our happiness does not have to depend on external comforts like food.
I will be honest: if I had relied solely on my own willpower, my desires probably would have won years ago. It was my commitment to the Bodhisattva Precepts that gave me the strength to stay the course. The Precepts acted as a guardrail, helping me transition from being a slave to my cravings to becoming a master of my own mind.
By learning to be comfortable with an empty stomach, I found a much fuller spirit.
Luke Lin 2/9/2026