As Ramadan comes to an end

A few thoughts as my very first Ramadan comes to an end...

This is an experience I will never forget. There will be other Ramadans and I will, inshallah, fast. But this first time will always be a treasured memory. The sensations, the people, the lessons learned.

• I have a better feel for what the people on the street are experiencing, although I am keenly aware that I always had the promise of Iftar awaiting me with its milk and dates to break the fast, and meal afterwards. Perhaps the meal we serve each week at Project Downtown is like the Iftar...a promise of something to end the thirst and hunger that makes dealing with it a little easier.
  
  
• The South Florida Islamic community is one of the most welcoming, friendly, open groups of people I have ever encountered.
  
  
• Prayer in a group is very powerful. Prayer in a group when you get to create your own sacred space inside your scarf is even more powerful.
  
  
• Ramadan isn't just about not eating and drinking for a given number of hours. It's about letting go of other things like anger, fear, greed and impatience. It is a cleansing of the body and the spirit.
  
  
• Ramadan alone would be very hard. Sharing the anticipation of the Iftar, even over the phone, makes all the difference in the experience.
  
  
• I will never take a bottle of water or lunch for granted again.
  

The fasting becomes more challenging

I was warned that it would get harder toward the end. That the last week or so of Ramadan would become more difficult. I should have listened.

Not that I could have done anything about it. But I still should have listened.

I am tired, weak. I am often confused. Daily functions have gotten more difficult and the days seem longer instead of shorter.

The feeling of intense well-being I experienced in the early days is gone. My day has been reduced to the necessary, the essential. All extras have been pared away.

I do my work. my driving, my daily breaking of the fast, and my sleep. Conversation is with only a few people.

Emotions are both sharp and mutted. It's like they are clearer, purer. But wrapped in cotton wool. They bruise instead of cut. And the depth is greater.

It's harder being alone. Fear is suddenly just below the surface. Not of any one thing, except of being alone.

Is this intended to be a part of the fast? Am I meant to experience this disolution of energy and power and focus? Is this part of the lesson?

And the blessings go on...

Today, I will pick up my car with a new engine in it. Replaced under warranty.

Today, a check was sent for a freelance job I completed a few weeks ago.

Today, I will break the fast with friends at an Iftar celebration.

Today, I had a nice long phone call from an old friend who lives far away.

Today, I doppped my daughters off at their schools and came to work safely despite a blinding downpour.

Today, work has gone well.

Today, I have had music to listen to all day while I worked.

Today, I have fasted.

And the blessings go on.

Day 13 of Ramadan, September 26th, 2007

11 days of Ramadan and counting

Last night, I attended my first Iftar celebration. It was in the home of one of our Project Downtown members.

For three hours, we shared food and Salat and drink and conversation and laughter. We sipped hot mint tea and talked over the details of our days. This was a women's Iftar...my two daughters and I welcomed into a circle that included a few friends, some acquaintances and some women we just met. The women ranged from my daughter (aged 9) to several moms of teens and 20-somethings.

It was an amazing experience.

As Ramadan moves into its second third, I am amazed at the changes I've experienced.

• I've learned to follow a chart of times to eat and drink, instead of surrendering to the demands of my body.
  
  
• I've learned to focus on the moment -- a profound lesson in mindfulness.
  
  
• I've discovered how very little we need to eat to survive and thrive and am amazed at the vast amount we usually eat in contrast.
  
  
• I've learned gratitude for that first sip of milk and first bite of a date at the end of the day.
  
  
• I've learned the value of community, as we encourage each other along this season of fasting.
  
  
• I've learned humbleness when a homeless man, so impressed by the concept of fasting, decided to fast with us, despite the fact that his daily life already includes hunger and insufficient food.
  
  
• I've been imnpressed by the fortitude of my eldest daughter's fast, as she pushes her way through hunger and thirst through school days and household chores.
  
  
• And I am touched and grateful for the Iftar invitations that have been arriving daily as people learn that we have joined the fast.
  
  

On the 8th day of Ramadan

Today has been the hardest day so far.

I ate before dawn, but clearly not the right stuff. Shakey, sleepy, very thirsty. But I am getting through. The process is more important than my momentary comfort.

I just had a weird experience. I was updating my Facebook and the new app asked for my religion. I sat there for 10 minutes marking and unmarking two different boxes. I could not commit to where I have been for all these years, nor to where it seems I am going. I finally settled on "Multireligious" (yes that was one of the choices!) for now.

I feel that I am straddling a crevasse, trying to keep one foot on either side. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?) the gap is widening and it is about time for me to make a choice.

That's what this fast is all about. Choices.

Ramadan, Day 7

It's amazing how quickly we've adapted to the schedule of Ramadan. This morning at 5:30, my 16 year old daughter, who is also observing the fast, came into my room.

"Have you eaten yet, Mommy?" And a while later...

"It's 6. We have until 6:11. Do you want some more water?"

One week since the observance started, and our mornings have changed from a quick Pop-Tart and cup of tea on the way out the door to a real breakfast at 5:30 a.m. And an eye on the schedule posted on the fridge and the clock. No one is questioning whether they could grab another glass of water at 6:12, even though it's only a minute later. The precision of the times makes it impossible to ignore.

And it feels natural. It has already become a part of our routine.

As has the evening, when we watch the time as we prepare dinner.

"Time to break the fast", one of us will say. And the milk comes out, and the dates, and we snack gratefully on those as we get dinner on the table.

Our appetites are diminished, but what we do eat tastes so good, as though we are noticing the flavours and textures for the first time.

Ramadan has already changed us in ways we never anticipated. We expected hunger, thirst, maybe a headache. Some grumpiness. But instead, we've discovered a soothing routine, a schedule to make us aware of food and water and time and commitment. Yes, we have experienced hunger. And at times, the thirst becomes almost unbearable.

But mostly we have discovered an order and peace we had not expected. But have quickly come to cherish.

Living Ramadan

Today is Day 6 of Ramadan. My first Ramadan. Not the first I've known of, but my first fast. Before I was an observer. Now I am a part of this amazing tradition.

I got up at 5 this morning and ate a small breakfast. Less than a week into Ramadan, and it's already hard to eat very much at one time. Three glasses of water later, and it was time to start the day's fast.

The first day I was dizzy and lightheaded a few times. Now I just feel incredible. My mind is more peaceful than I can ever remember. My breath is slower. My sleep is better. Like the artist mentioned in a BeliefNet article, I feel transparent and hollow, cleaned out of all that is unessential.

And I am hungry.

Not for food. You thought I was going to say food. Nope.

I can talk about food, shop for food, even cook food, and I am able to wait until the proper time to break the fast. Last night I started making dinner before the fast ended and yet I got through all the prep without tasting one single bite. Food has become far less essential than ever before.

No, what I am hungry for are answers. And inspiration. And a clarity of purpose.

What am I doimg here in Ramadan? What am I to learn? How can G-d use my hunger and thirst to teach me things I need to learn? How can I understand the lessons and make the changes I need to make?

And where am I going after this?

My exploration of Islam began 7 years ago in a diner in rural central Pennsylvania. I was curious. I asked a waiter some questions. He told me I would make a wonderful Muslim and he let me borrow a copy of the Quar'an. I read it in a week. More questions. The waiter left to return to Egypt. I decided I needed to learn Arabic so I bought some books. I did not learn Arabic.

In the years since then, my questions have grown more numerous. Teachers have entered and left my life. Some remain. Some new ones have entered recently. I am studying Arabic at the University now, and finally learning.

I am living Ramadan as I fast. And as I feed the hungry and homeless with Project Downtown members on the streets each weekend. And as I read and think and pray. And I will experience another aspect in the next few days, as I attend my first Iftar celebrations. I am aware that I am part of a wonderful tradition stretching back centuries.

I will be blogging about this experience for the rest of Ramadan, in hopes that writing about my experience will help me to see the lessons and understand the purpose for this fast in a very personal way.