When I was young I knew very little about Buddha. Once and a while I would see on TV a Buddhist monk would douse themselves with gasoline and set themselves on fire. Seemed a rather unpleasant thing to me. Sometimes in the paper there would be a man that would climb a mountain to ask a Buddhist monk a question. Typically the answer was indecipherable. Much latter a group of people calling themselves the Taliban blew up an ancient Buddhist statue. That seemed rather wrong. I did not think the old statue was hurting anyone.
Latter in life a friend, who was smarter than the rest, gave me a statue of Buddha. He was raised in Indonesia. He suggested that I was Buddhist. That surprised me. Latter I read that a man named Pike suggested that the first Mason was Buddha. Then people toppled the statue of Pike.
Because of my friend my wife thought Buddha was cool. We bought a bunch of Buddhas for the house. Buddha seemed so calm and serine. The reflection of a good state of mind. All was good.
Then I meet an actual Buddhist, to be honest I was a bit shocked. I had never met a Buddhist, yet she was not very Buddhist. She seemed more American than I. She was raised a Buddhist, as I was raised a Christian. It was obvious that religion did not play an important part in our lives. At least not overtly.
There is one picture of Buddha in the house that is interesting. I had trouble figuring out the color of Buddha’s robes. They seemed to change colors. It was just one of those little things, I barely noticed it. Yet it was somewhat mystifying. The other Buddha’s were calm and relaxed, yet this one was mystifying. Sadly I figured it out. Buddha was printed in a reflective silver. I was seeing the reflection of the color of my shirt.
I guess that is the best answer, Buddha is a reflection of ourselves. If I had always worn the same color, would have never noticed it.