Ramadan - reflections

It's been more than a month since I - since we - completed Ramadan this year.  It seems like a dream, years ago.  It was a month of waking early - at 4:45am - to my breakfasts fixed the night before of  smoothies, wraps, cheese, ham, boiled eggs, dates, nuts - whatever protein and carbohydrates I could find.  It was a month when, despite wanting to rise above the ordinary, I thought much more often of food, hunger and sleep - the first level on Maslow's hierarchy of needs.  It was a month when the happiest moment of many of my days was the moment I broke my fast and the sweetness of a date, the texture of chewing, flooded my senses.  It was a month when I was tired, when I got sick, when I had headaches, when I often didn't want to be kind to anyone.

So much for spirituality.

And yet.  And yet in the moment when I started crying on the afternoon train home because I realised I had forgotten my small ziplock bag of dates and nuts, could not eat at the designated time to break the fast, 5:19pm, and must wait another hour before I would be home - in that moment I realised how much I had been given,  how at least I knew where my next meal was coming from, and through my tears was able to find gratitude and prayer.  

And yet.  

And yet I began to read the Qu'ran, and began to understand and to love the new Muslim friends I made, to hear their compassion, their love for, their desire for God, and to find commonalities in our journeys.  

And yet I was able to go to a mosque, and was surprised - and changed -  to come face to face with a very real sense of the One True God as I prayed there. 

And yet I was able to wake every morning and read, and write, and to establish a pattern for the mornings.  

And yet I was able to walk at lunchtimes and pray for the poor, for those who, unlike me, were truly hungry.

And yet I was able to find joy in the simple taste of a date.

And yet I learned:  so much of how we do life is about attitude; that if I'm hungry and I choose it I am no longer a slave to my body and its desires, and that I can therefore choose how I respond - I don't have to be grumpy.  And so much of happiness is about expectation:  If I am without food when I think I have a right to eat now I am frustrated and upset; if I am without food because I choose it my blood sugar levels may be low; I may burst into tears unexpectedly, but I am, actually, ok.

And for these experiences, and a new awareness of these truths, I am grateful.  

As I am for good breakfasts!