The challenge of explaining the unexplainable. (Fasting Friday, liquid-only.)

Fresh from signing-on (which was depressingly breif. Why did I bother to print evidence of my job search and to fill in my diary, when the 'adviser' just glanced, sighned, and advised that we were done for today?) I'll now attempt to tackle the biggie.
Spirituality.
*deep breath*
For many years I have been - as the accurate option on a dating site profile suggested - 'spiritual but not religious'.
Isn't that just a fabulous way of describing it?? There are so many people who believe in the untangible, the concept of a higher power, yet are not comfortable with organised religion. When, at whatever judgement we believe in comes, we can only answer for ourselves. When we pray, converse with God, chant, worship, we may pray for someone or others, but not through them...
''Dear God, please tell Bob to tell Jim to tell you...''
Doesn't have the same ring to it, does it? No, we pray from our own hearts.

So it is that (I feel) we search for our own path to God.
We may have companions for the journey. A bus driver. The oddball who smells of hamsters and sits next to you talking about his chickens. We may have a bus driver. But no advocate.

That own path to God is what I am searching for, that spiritual connection that has at times felt as distant as a memory.
Yet it is in memories that inspiration can lurk, such as the memory that comes to mind. In smaller font for ease of skipping over...

Imagine, if you will, January in Kolkata. I'm a bit slimmer and a lot more tanned.
In the middle of the night I turned over, gurning against the crippling stomach cramps that I was experiencing. I bit my lip, but somehow my silent twisting woke my roommate (whom I'd met just the day before, so wasn't aware that she was a Christian. Without speaking, she surveyed the situation and reached for my hand, gripping it, she began to pray for me. As the cramps eased, so did my sleeplessness and I woke in the morning refreshed.
We relaxed with a joint rolled by my friend, T, and she told me about how she came to rediscover her faith in the nick of time before depression tipped her over the edge. She talked about how it guided her in life and gave her the strength to make decisions and be who she is.
We both cried.
Then we dried our eyes and set out on the white knuckle ride to Howrah bride. Having jumped on a moving bus in blind faith (excuse the pun!) that it was going the right way, we settled into our seats to watch the streets pass, sun bursting through the window. I felt thankful for my companion, that I was present to experience the wonderful contrasts of India, that a handsome Croatian man had given me antibiotics. And suddenly there was peace. Everything felt right (except for our sore bottoms!). I felt that I was exactly where I am meant to be. I felt God was with me.
And that, dear readers, is powerful.
That is what spirituality means to me.

I was 'following my bliss'.... Joseph Campbell is worth a read (wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Campbell#Joseph_Campbell_Foundation) although I freely admit that I first came across this in the film 'The namesake', adapted from Jhumpa Lahiri's book of the same name. Again very well worth a read.


Sorry... how is this relating to fasting?
Well, for many faiths (because a lot more faiths promote fasting than is initially thought) that fasting serves as emulation, commemoration, and to focus the mind on a higher purpose *bingo!!*.
It is also a reminder that we are lucky to be able to choose to give up food for the day. Some people in this world don't have that choice to make... if you can, and if you want, Pakistan needs our help now more than ever :..(


It's worth noting that my peaceful and contempalative state has just been disturbed by dropping my laptop and being chased across the room by the biggest spider I've seen outside of a petshop. :S
So I will have to end there for now and return to make this make more sense, and possibly add some pictures.
Monster arachnic safely rehomed, I'm off to have a coffee and feel smug that I'm not revenous yet.

The whys and the whys

The hows over and done with, onto the whys.
In short, it is for reasons of:

• Health (a better diet, digestion, and skin).
• Willpower.
• Community.
• Spirituality.

There, that was short, wasn't it!?
This is less short...

Health.
I am in posession of one of the greatest waist-line sins... a sweet tooth. It seems that sweet treats have become a daily habit, a punctuation for my moods, a strong presence in my shopping basket.
3 of my biggest body image woes (in this image-conscious society) are all contributed to by sugar. Innocent-looking sugar that, in its common granulated form, comes with a price (as most foods do). Bought from farmers at low prices, carbon-stomping it's way to our shelves to appear not as the sugar-cane that is a staple film-prop and backdrop in many Indian movies, but a processed bleached condiment of its former self.

Left: Jaggery being made
near Kadrabad, North India.
Abskii.




Switching to brown fairtrade sugar is really a cinch. But cutting it out? Now that's a tougher task. This moves into the subject of:

Willpower.
There is a lure that sweets hold - especially for an evolutionary reason. A childs predisposition for sweet tastes guides it away from the sour or bitter indications of possible poison (stilton cheese being an example, an 'aquired taste' for some adults. It's MOULDY for crying out loud! But oh so grown-up...).
And a fancy for dessert when not one. more. drop. of lasagne can even be considered, apparently ensures that we receive the range of vitamins that living by bread and meat alone cannot give.
(If I get more time I will look for some links or references to back all this up! But they do make sense, don't they...). So when we consider this, we can see how sweetness can hold notions of childhood, simple times, and comfort - what most people would like to return to sometimes, even if it is just for a moment. Resisting this is hard.
For me personally, it's also about eating out of habit, of boredom, and because it is there. So practice in resisting mental urges for what the body is not calling for means a return to listening more to my body and responding with care.

I live in a town in South England that has a large muslim community, and as asian culture is something that has been present for most of my life, references to Ramadan and Eid, fasting and fireworks, Diwali and Dusshera, Langar and love, are abound in my Indophile tendancies. With a sad lack of community of my own [based on any faith or common denominator].....
it just feels good to take part. :)

A final indulgance (in which I make my pledge)

So today I endulged my last - well, for a while anyway. For 30 days. Because for the duration of Ramadan I am:

• Foregoing the sweet treats that have been a near-daily occurrence recently.
• Abstaining from Cola and it's shady relatives (with the exception of a rare lemonade that helps when I have indigestion).
• Undergoing a liquid-only fast each Friday (from Fajir to Iftar).
• Increasing this fast during the final 10 days (my aim is to liquid-fast on the odd numbered days). I understand this to be Laylat al-Qadr, but last year a friend explained the significance as being an emphasis on the spiritual and on forgiveness.
• Going to make visits to places of worship, break my mosque fear (more on that later), the local Gurdwara, my favourite Krishna temple, and more.
  

So why is it that a non-muslim would want to be doing this when there is no pressure or expectation from anyone for her to do this? Why, I could still be spiritual without the fasting. Could still explore culture without having to refuse that carrot cake. But so could anyone, at any time.
And sometimes the time is now.
Why wait for the water to be at the right level, before you jump in and flow with the current?

(Ok, please forgive my reference in light of the devestation in Pakistan, it was the best way I could find to illustrate what I'm trying to put across, and with thoughts of mighty and holy rivers such as the Jamuna and Ganges in mind, it felt apt).

For my last indulgence I lingered in Costa with a large cup of tea, and a slice of their moist yummy carrot cake that seemed to have taken on an extra taste either by way of coincidence, new recipe or -most likely- my awareness of the need to savour. And then, to make it really count, a packet of vanilla wafer and a bottle of diet coke. Even to me it felt a bit excessive, like the (mini)binge before the (slow and gradual)purge.

Lingering in the busy hum of the shop, nursing a mysterious back injury, I started to think about what not just how I'm doing this, but why.
And that, takes a lot more explaining...

...Which will come tomorrow, Inshallah.

This time less than three years ago...

...I had the pleasure of being in Lahore, Pakistan just as Eid hit.

Staying in old Anarkali, with a room overlooking food street, I was nightly treated to the constant ebb and flow of people. Lahories love to eat. And talk. Men, families, arriving to eat at the tables set up in the street to meet, eat, and talk (I couldn't get that to rhyme). I roamed in the rush-hour safety of the Anarkali market, absorbed sights, sounds, smells, and sat in a confetti of flies during an afternoon watching families enjoying the Eid fair (to the concern of the hotel manager, Mr Anxious), shaking hands with shy young girls wearing a lot of make-up.
I watched Dawn news whilse escaping the pressing midday heat.
During my stay I experienced the overwhelming hospitality , beautifully simple kebobs, oddly complex burgers, friendly locals, love-hungry yound men, and a wild west restaurant serving pasta. Was I confused? Yes, yes I was.
And as I explored that amazing city as much as a lone white girl can, perused lahore fort and the museum, marvelled at shrines and red-brick buildings, dodged traffic, and met people. So with varied results and conflicting memories, I had to move on. But the memory of the Eid festivity on Anarkali and the life of Lahore has stayed with me.

Here are a couple of pictures, firstly one above of food street hazy with the smoke from taktaka pans and general heat.
And the next, one of my favourite ever. Local Muslims deep in prayer.

















Please do not use any of my pictures without my permission, they hold some very dear memories and I'd hate for that to be violated. Thx.

So, it's this time of year again.

Ramadan approaches, and muslims worldwide are preparing for their annual (lunar) month-long fast.

To many non-muslims this may mean grumpy corner-shop owners, not being able to get an evening taxi for love nor money, or the almighty shopping exodus towards Eid.
And the not being able to get a restaurant table for love nor money.
But to many muslims, it is a time of reflection, inspiration, sacrifice, focus, family, and of God.

And so it will be for me again, albeit not with the full dedication it takes to not eat or drink (or for some orthadox muslims, swallow their own parched saliva) during daylight hours for a whole month.
My fast will include abstaining from certain food stuffs and drink stuffs, doing a liquid fast once a week (where I will only have fluids during the day), and during the last 10 days of ramadan will be hopefully fasting on alternate days.
Why am I, a non-muslim, doing this? Well for me, it is a time of relfection, inspiration, sacrifice, focus, family, and of God.

I hope to write about this, my struggle to resist that can of diet coke (cool, bubbly coke. Fresh, yummy coke...) , my search for meaning in my spirituality, my quest for a cleaner body and mind, and more focus.

Day 1 starts tomorrow, so my first decision starts tonight at a meal out with friends... do I partake one last time, or get a good start on abstaining???