In my last post, I said that I'd been challenged to observe one day of Ramadan. I agreed to do a day of fasting near the end of the month, when the days are at their shortest and so the fast is easier. I had no worries about going without food, but it wasn't until the morning of the allotted day (Thursday) that I was finally resolved to go the whole way and give up fluids too. I didn't mention this to my Muslim friend, though, in case I had to go back on it. I normally drink a lot and become very irritable and headachy when dehydrated, so I felt certain I wouldn't be able to last ten minutes without water.
My prediction was very nearly proved correct when I realised, within minutes of getting up, that I had to take my pill and brush my teeth. I'd completely neglected to ask my friend how to cope with this. I managed with about three sips of water. I suspect a strict Muslim would count this as breaking my fast before it had even begun, but it was significantly less than the pint or so I would normally drink before going to work.
From previous experience, I was convinced that I would have a terrible headache and be desparate for a drink by the time I got to work - if I didn't actually collapse by the roadside. But in fact, when I arrived to see half a glass of orange on my desk, I felt absolutely no desire to drink it. I didn't feel any urge to drink or eat all morning. And when chocolates were offered out, I felt completely indifferent towards them - a novel experience for me! Even when I came to break my fast at about 6.45, I felt no urgency about it. I ate a single chocolate biscuit which made me feel completely satisfied (although in the end I decided it was most sensible to eat a proper evening meal anyway).
I can only assume that my lack of appetite or thirst was because I had nothing to drink or eat when I got up. My friend told me that he never gets up before dawn during Ramadan, since a normal breakfast prepares the body to expect food, by stretching the stomach and increasing the metabolism; still, I was amazed at the extent to which my body adapted. It also seemed to help that I had a particular aim and a sense of purpose.
In fact, the fasting seemed at first to have a beneficial effect on me. Free from my habitual constant desire for food and drink, and without my regular caffeine fixes, I felt more focussed and more aware than usual. Even in the evening, I felt very peaceful and relaxed. When I went after work to pick up tickets for a concert, and found there was only one ticket reserved for two of us, I took it with unprecedented equanimity.
There was a down-side, however. In the afternoon, I started to feel very sleepy and less able to concentrate, and had to drink the half-glass of orange to make me feel more alert. I had been playing about on the internet and even closed my eyes for a while, something I would never normally do at work. I can only assume that my sense of equanimity and indifference had gone too far and had started to affect my inhibitions.
I'm not sure it would be healthy or sensible to do it for a whole month, but I was genuinely surprised at the sense of wellbeing it gave me. As the time for breaking the fast came closer, I also felt a sense of fellowship with Muslims, knowing we were thinking about the same thing. Islam so often seems very alien, and it was valuable to be able to bridge that gap.
I've also learned something about the idea of overcoming attachment to the world. I had always assumed that extreme fasting of this kind was some kind of macho-masochism, borne out of a hatred of the world and a desire to punish the body. I was skeptical of the idea that one can or should find peace by overcoming cravings and desires, imagining that it would be a constant struggle and would deprive one of perfectly natural and harmless pleasures. Now I think I can see what attracts some people to this kind of life. The impartiality that I felt towards food was not contempt or aversion or lack of interest; when I ate my chocolate biscuit it was a very real pleasure. But not eating it might well have been equally pleasant.
But enough of the mystical stuff. My next foray into the world of faith will be quite different: Alpha.