fifteen days of Ramadan.

it’s a little better now, especially after my therapy session. I talked about what Ramadan means to me, and how much anxiety harboured my heart before its arrival. I talked about how my home in the past was filled with dread and fear of that beautiful month and instead of it being one of harmony, peace, prayer and love; it was one of anxiety, sadness and loneliness. this anxiety still hits me every year and I feel like something terrible would happen, given that my gut would explode in inflammation and pain every time. however, it is getting better. perhaps, it is the first year that I am not consumed with that overarching fear and am instead living it with presence.

my therapist told me about what how everyone has an individual journey in Ramadan. at first, I always felt different seeing that everyone was so happy about the food, gatherings and changed routine. it was not like that for me. the hunger, the need to exercise patience and the demands of the month take a toll of my nafs, which I am working tirelessly to discipline. it is always in Ramadan that my nafs rebels and wants to destroy all the progress I’ve made, and so I spend the month almost fighting with myself. disciplining her, asking her to be patient, comforting her that it is okay that I do not have much energy. it is okay that I am not over-performing or over-achieving. and it seems that it is what hurts me the most.

it’s been fifteen days already and the soulful voice is already settling in. I had my first tears of a broken heart last night during taraweeh, internalising the magnitude of the blessings in my life. I just couldn’t hold it in and found myself in tears. it was a moment I’ve been patiently waiting for for quite a long time— that brokenness, that nothingness. I truly missed it. my life these days does not connect me to that truth, and I rarely find myself feeling the desperate need for God in my life. but, this is my intention. along with the miracle of spring and startling blooming of daffodils and croci, I pray to feel the brokenness surrounded by the blessings abound.

for the last ten days of Ramadan, my intention is to give up some worldly pleasure. I talk a lot about food here, I know, but perhaps it is the way my heart knows. I can see very clearly how changing my food affects my spiritual clarity, and so I pray to have the strength to give up eating meat for the last days. eating light foods make the heart speak quite softly, loud enough for us to hear. I envision praying my taraweeh with sincerity, lengthening its time so that I kneel down and truly pray for a gentler heart and a more transformative existence.

I have learned not to compare my Ramadan to anyone and instead, cherish my individual experience. perhaps no one that I know of wakes at 3.30 and continues their day, finding themselves collapsing from tiredness right after taraweeh. but it is those moments right after fajr that cleanse my heart, whilst writing here and reflecting on the myriad of ways I can truly change and become of more grace and aliveness.

dear God, I pray for your light. I pray that you bestow upon me your grace and surrender to all the love abound.