When the brain and the belly are burning from fasting, every moment a new song rises out of the fire. – Rumi (from On Fasting)
Honestly, for several weeks now I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of something to write. I like to keep my blog current but what’s the use in rambling about something inconsequential? I could talk about my screen door that squeaks irritatingly each time I go onto the balcony, I could talk about the little spot of mold in the corner of my bathroom that won’t go away no matter how much I bleach it, or maybe I could tantalize you with tales of the annoying carpet that lies in the front hall and never fails to trip me on the way by. No? Well, the fasting, unlike as promised by Rumi, has not summoned the muses in anyway.
I know, I know, I’m completely missing the point. Well, I’m not really. I’m grateful to be with my family after spending so many Ramadan holidays away from them. Damascus is a wondrous place during this time – especially the bakeries and sweet shops! For my Canadian friends to appreciate, it’s like Christmas here! While in Canada, it was a struggle to celebrate, with any kind of enthusiasm, one of the largest observance in the Muslim calendar. Of course going to Mosque, the Iftar and Eid ul-Fitr meals at the community hall, and getting together with other Muslims was uplifting at best. I don’t mean to underrate the experience in Canada – the sense of community that was created by the holiday was very meaningful for those of us who were missing family. But here it’s different. Its more than just getting together with those who have something in common with you. It’s amazing and very special.
Spiritually I am truly awestruck and inspired by the generosity of my fellow countrymen at this time. From this, I can honestly say I get a renewed faith in mankind. Neighbor helping neighbor – or even more than that, a complete stranger – the downtrodden and the hopeless given a second thought, burying the hatchet between those who have fought and lost touch; these amongst many other acts of kindness and community, are gratifying in a way that transcends my regular outlook on life and the general state of the world – or our little part of it. What if we carried this throughout the year? Of course, a good Muslim should – actually a good human should. (Risk of being preachy but isn’t intended…thinking more about my own actions). But once the holidays are over its easy to be consumed by the rigors of everyday life and to find difficulty in rising above it to see beyond those in the inner circle of our lives.
Ramadan has its basic meaning that is common to all of us, but beyond that it has a slightly different meaning to each of us. To one it may be a time for absolution, for another it may be a time for family, to another it’s perhaps a time for spiritual re-awakening, and the list goes on. It could be a combination of all of the above or just one that is particularly sacred to us. Anyway, enough conjecture – I know only what it means to me. This year, I am experiencing it as though it were the first time again. It has provided a great time for reflection and introspection as well as reading and enjoying leisure activities – and most importantly spending quality time with those I love.
Well, I guess Rumi was right after all. After re-reading this post I actually surprised myself. I didn’t think I had that much to say about Ramadan, or about anything, but why wouldn’t I? Sometimes words can come out of just writing. There was a bit of a song rising from the fire. Oh and what a fire it is! I never quite get used to it…but enough complaining. Ramadan Kareem to all my fellow Muslims and friends. May the month be a blessing upon you.
Mariyah
abufares
