Weds 8th September 2010
I am here. I did it. I scuffed my way along the long, weary road of Ramazan, some tumbles and trips along the way, I but managed to make it to the very end. So now I’m here, facing a new set of crossroads as it were, what the heck was that all about?
This has probably been the easiest day of fasting so far, as I have been occupied with that question the whole while. It was my first thought as I leapt out of bed (yes, leapt). It was my second thought as I served Baran his breakfast. It was my next thought as I started planning a mammoth baking session ready for Bayram tomorrow. All day I have been thinking about the pros and cons, the highs and lows. I’m not sure that I’ve reached any logical conclusions, more a smattering of surreal thoughts linked together with the very wispy thread of the past month’s experiences. They’re probably not of any interest to anybody. But what the heck, let’s get them out there.
Whilst I baked away to my heart’s content, actively avoiding any Nigella-style licking of spoons or fingers (by the way, she is officially my culinary idol), I tried to work it all out. Obviously, to me, the whole Ramazan thing has been a vastly different experience to any run-of-the-mill Muslim. Chiefly because I don’t follow Islam and I don’t believe in their type of God. But that doesn’t mean it’s been without its spiritual experiences (accidental meditation on Findhorn Beach to name but one). I do feel like I’ve learned some stuff about myself and about the world I occupy. And I’m also feeling like the world actually occupies me a little bit. You know, like the world’s in me and I’m in the world. All one and all intrinsically linked. If that’s not a good dose of spirituality then I don’t know what is.
And speaking of all being one, I think there’s been an important element lacking in my whole Ramazan experience. Commonality. Sure, Mustafa and I have had each other but we have been living our separate lifestyles of babycare and breadwinning and have scarcely come together to share a post sunset meal. I am sure that in a typical Muslim community, there would be far more camaraderie and support between family, friends and work colleagues. We all know how uplifting it is to witness acts of human kindness, so it must be amazing to spend a whole month where people give each other concessions, cook each other meals and give to the poor and needy. I am sure that some of my more ‘challenging’ moments may have been more bearable if there had been somebody ready to swoop in and care for Baran for an hour or two.
Similarly, those evening meals and early morning breakfasts must be something really special when shared with others. I remember when I lived in Turkey and I used to wander down the main promenade on an evening, pushing my gorgeous new baby in his pram and wonder why the atmosphere suddenly felt so magical. I’d hear china chinking, smell incredible cooking aromas, and see the orange haze of the sun start to melt into the deep purple blend of sea and sky. In each restaurant there would be only one table occupied by every single staff member, all chatting, laughing, eating and drinking round an amazing feast probably made by everyone. This was real solidarity, real understanding and real worship. I didn’t get it then, although I knew there was something powerful going on. I get it now.
And, thanks to my thorough studies on Islam (ok, my brief dip into ‘The Koran For Dummies’), I have discovered that the religion itself has a very communal element. The reason it gives such clear guidance for living, is because it’s all set on developing an ‘equitable society’, creating ‘peace and harmony within an individual that then spreads to society.’ There is so much concentration on generosity, forgiveness, sharing, gratitude and love which are not always words that spring to mind when one thinks of the Muslim faith. Maybe I’m making an unforgiveable sweeping statement here, but I think Islam may have been a tad misinterpreted in the western world. I don’t exactly feel qualified to get into that debate right now, but it’s food for thought (food – yey!).
I think it goes without saying that I have come out of this experience with a new found gratitude for the sustenance available to me day to day. Like most young women (and some men too, I know), I’ve had my fair share of food-related issues. I’ve sporadically dipped into psychological states bordering on eating disorders and have special people in my life right now, who continuously battle with food and self-image. I will not pretend that these disorders are easy to overcome. They are not. However, speaking for myself, participating in Ramazan has been nothing short of liberating. I have examined my own thoughts and behaviour patterns relating to food and been able to identify which ones are constructive and which ones are downright vicious. Why be vicious to myself? Time to find some compassion and some balance. And it’s always time to remember how lucky we are to have food and drink on the table, even if we do have to shop more thoughtfully than ever thanks to a double-dip recession.
And while we’re on the topic of gratitude, the past twenty nine days have helped me to feel real gratitude for myself. I mean honestly, I totally rock. Because going without food stripped me of basic functions such as patience, tolerance and empathy, particularly in relation to my two-year-old, it made me appreciate how often I use those virtues on a normal basis. From day to day we exercise qualities without even thinking about it, mostly to benefit ourselves and the people we co-habit with. Maybe that ideal Muslim society already exists in the little pockets of experience we create for ourselves. Maybe it can if only we let it.
Another reason I totally rock is that I’ve managed to fulfill my commitment to complete these daily records. I have spent the last four years talking about writing, dreaming about writing and imagining what writing on a regular basis must be like. Why did I spend all that time imagining? Oh how I love the modern-aged wonder that is the internet because if blogging was still a thing of tomorrow, these words would never have escaped my mind. It was that mental contract I drew up with myself after Day One that I started down the one-way road of daily blogging. Yes, they have just been my silly ramblings but for me they have been cathartic and a real creative release. Goodness knows what they have been for you, but that’s for you to know and for me, perhaps to never find out.
So, to summarise, if a summary is possible after this insane journey, I think I have a brand new admiration for those committed to their beliefs. Whether that belief is in God, yourself, a theory or a philosophy, commitment and resolution to a genuine belief is admirable. And it will undoubtedly open up a pathway to new experiences and more than a little magic. And after this, I believe strongly in a few key things. I won’t divulge them now, as you’ve probably picked them up along the way anyway. But what I will do, is leave you, fittingly, with the words of Rumi, a thirteenth century Muslim poet and Sufi Mystic:
‘Let the beauty of what you love, be what you do.’
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