Eid Et Al

Ramadan begins today, or maybe it doesn't. Zahaa is waiting for instruction from Saudi Arabia, where there are astronomers whose whole job is to figure out when the moon is just right. For me, it began yesterday, because that’s when it began on google. 

I’m not fasting. Several drowsy, cranky Yom Kippurs have taught me that I am not up to the task. But I am refraining, with Lenten rules and motivated by curiosity.

I've done a lot of Lent, and it is always good. It’s a surprising relief not to have to eat sugar and snacks and to have conversations with myself about it. But last Lent, like a very good Catholic, I just found ways to jut right up against my own rules. Bread soaked with honey. Technically unforbidden fruit all day long. I still never stopped eating, or thinking about eating. Actually, the only thing that can ever take my mind away from eating is tasks that prevent me from eating.

Without something to reach for and chew or imbibe I have been two days cranky and nervous and casting about.  The anxiety doesn't surprise me as much as the emptiness. Most of the purpose of my day feels gone. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to reward myself with or calm myself down. No reason to leave the office.

What is this, with food?

I try to eat a whole bagel for breakfast, sitting down and not reading or looking at my phone. I try to do it without listening to the radio, but no go. I force myself to chew everything up, slowly and carefully. It’s a jarringly intense struggle. When I don’t have food, I want it. When I have it I want to send it down as fast as it will go. I try to pay attention to the texture and the flavor of what I'm eating and my heart is racing with disquiet while my brain frantically instructs me to panic eat the whole thing.

I don’t really know what this means.

I know that fasting has been described as a symbolic breaking of attachment to material things- a bell that reminds you every time you enact attachment by acting on that most common craving.

I know that it’s about discipline, and I intended my Ramadan to be about discipline, but right now it’s just wretched, anxious pleading and grasping free fall.

Which probably means something.