Tuesday, March 13, 2007 at 1:01am
Fastening my eyes on heaven
Column: Life at First Sight
I keep catching myself lately as I start to make a lunch or coffee date, my favorite way to visit and catch up with friends.
"Oh, yeah," I usually remember aloud. "I don't eat during most of March."
You don't eat?" My listener's tone is invariably shocked.
"Oh, well, yes, I do. Just not during daylight hours."
For the 19 days that fall between March 2 and 20, I'm one of a few million members of the Baha'i Faith around the world who wake up early to have our breakfast before sunrise and then abstain from food and drink until sunset. Knowing how especially fond I am of eating, friends often express real sympathy when I get to this part of the explanation.
I don't know how to begin to tell them that some years, I find myself wishing that this annual fast lasted even longer than it does. Sure, it can be an inconvenience in day-to-day terms, and can tax me physically. And it can make some social situations a bit more awkward.
But a day can become something quite remarkable when its rhythms are freed up from the demands that food so often imposes upon them. And the slowing of my own pace that the fast necessitates, together with the prayer and reflection it inspires, opens doors to many sweet surprises that make my soul feel very well-fed indeed.
People of most faiths fast — some, for a day at a time; some for a full lunar month, as faithful Muslims do. And, like most religions, the Baha'i Faith sees great value in the practice of fasting as a discipline for both body and soul.
But it's the soul part that is so inviting for me each year, even when my body protests a bit at what is roughly a 12-hour wait between meals. This fast occurs in the weeks that precede the spring equinox, which Baha'is celebrate as the beginning of a new year. The fast itself is viewed as a time for taking a sort of spiritual inventory as we prepare to embark on a new cycle. Its significance is therefore essentially spiritual in character, with fasting simply the symbolic reminder of the importance of abstaining from preoccupation with one's self and the world; a reminder that we are, first and foremost, spiritual beings.
Because the fast's primary aim is spiritual reflection and regeneration, everyone can participate, whether they're able to abstain from food or not. Those excused from fasting include women who are pregnant or nursing a child, those who are ill, engaged in heavy labor, in the midst of a journey, and those under the age of 15 or over the age of 70. (However, one 84-year-old friend looks forward to the fast each year just as much as I do.)
One of the things I love about this period is that it enhances a sense of conscious awareness for me, and that always leads to unexpected glimpses of heaven right here on earth.
"Fasting is the cause of awakening man," the Baha'i writings say. "The heart becomes tender and the spirituality of man increases. This is produced by the fact that man's thoughts will be confined to the commemoration of God, and through this awakening and stimulation surely ideal advancements follow."
This year, one friend who's also fasting is Ronnie, whose work involves accompanying brain-injured clients to a local day program. Their activities are held in a large community building shared by several service organizations.
One day recently, a client who had been hit by a car as a child was being fed his lunch by his caregiver in the building's cafeteria. Food was dripping down his chin onto his bib, and he was in no position to clean his own face, or even ask for it to be cleaned. Other than one arm that seems to have a life of its own, he has little control over his own body.
But he has total control over his own heart, Ronnie says.
He has become the friend of a group of 3-year-olds who attend a pre-school in the same building. Each day, after they finish their lunch, they crowd around their friend's wheelchair and tell him all about their day. They aren't the least bit bothered by the fact that he is unable to answer them, or that bits of food fall off his bib onto the floor. After all, they often have the same problem.
One recent day, as Ronnie watched this little group, he suddenly spotted one of those glimpses of heaven. The small, enthusiastic voices were regaling the young man in the wheelchair, and he was sitting quietly, as he has no choice but to do.
And then, in the next unexpected moment, he raised that sometimes wayward arm and settled it softly on a little girl's shoulder, like a broken-winged bird. Then she smiled up at him and he smiled down at her.
Life is made up of moments, and some of those moments are pure heaven, Ronnie says. But you need to look carefully for them because sometimes they happen in a crowded lunchroom and if you are always looking up, or down, or somewhere else distractedly, you just might miss them.
Fortunately, he adds, life is very generous with the portions of these that it dishes out — a veritable feast, whether you happen to be fasting or not.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.
"Oh, yeah," I usually remember aloud. "I don't eat during most of March."
You don't eat?" My listener's tone is invariably shocked.
"Oh, well, yes, I do. Just not during daylight hours."
For the 19 days that fall between March 2 and 20, I'm one of a few million members of the Baha'i Faith around the world who wake up early to have our breakfast before sunrise and then abstain from food and drink until sunset. Knowing how especially fond I am of eating, friends often express real sympathy when I get to this part of the explanation.
I don't know how to begin to tell them that some years, I find myself wishing that this annual fast lasted even longer than it does. Sure, it can be an inconvenience in day-to-day terms, and can tax me physically. And it can make some social situations a bit more awkward.
But a day can become something quite remarkable when its rhythms are freed up from the demands that food so often imposes upon them. And the slowing of my own pace that the fast necessitates, together with the prayer and reflection it inspires, opens doors to many sweet surprises that make my soul feel very well-fed indeed.
People of most faiths fast — some, for a day at a time; some for a full lunar month, as faithful Muslims do. And, like most religions, the Baha'i Faith sees great value in the practice of fasting as a discipline for both body and soul.
But it's the soul part that is so inviting for me each year, even when my body protests a bit at what is roughly a 12-hour wait between meals. This fast occurs in the weeks that precede the spring equinox, which Baha'is celebrate as the beginning of a new year. The fast itself is viewed as a time for taking a sort of spiritual inventory as we prepare to embark on a new cycle. Its significance is therefore essentially spiritual in character, with fasting simply the symbolic reminder of the importance of abstaining from preoccupation with one's self and the world; a reminder that we are, first and foremost, spiritual beings.
Because the fast's primary aim is spiritual reflection and regeneration, everyone can participate, whether they're able to abstain from food or not. Those excused from fasting include women who are pregnant or nursing a child, those who are ill, engaged in heavy labor, in the midst of a journey, and those under the age of 15 or over the age of 70. (However, one 84-year-old friend looks forward to the fast each year just as much as I do.)
One of the things I love about this period is that it enhances a sense of conscious awareness for me, and that always leads to unexpected glimpses of heaven right here on earth.
"Fasting is the cause of awakening man," the Baha'i writings say. "The heart becomes tender and the spirituality of man increases. This is produced by the fact that man's thoughts will be confined to the commemoration of God, and through this awakening and stimulation surely ideal advancements follow."
This year, one friend who's also fasting is Ronnie, whose work involves accompanying brain-injured clients to a local day program. Their activities are held in a large community building shared by several service organizations.
One day recently, a client who had been hit by a car as a child was being fed his lunch by his caregiver in the building's cafeteria. Food was dripping down his chin onto his bib, and he was in no position to clean his own face, or even ask for it to be cleaned. Other than one arm that seems to have a life of its own, he has little control over his own body.
But he has total control over his own heart, Ronnie says.
He has become the friend of a group of 3-year-olds who attend a pre-school in the same building. Each day, after they finish their lunch, they crowd around their friend's wheelchair and tell him all about their day. They aren't the least bit bothered by the fact that he is unable to answer them, or that bits of food fall off his bib onto the floor. After all, they often have the same problem.
One recent day, as Ronnie watched this little group, he suddenly spotted one of those glimpses of heaven. The small, enthusiastic voices were regaling the young man in the wheelchair, and he was sitting quietly, as he has no choice but to do.
And then, in the next unexpected moment, he raised that sometimes wayward arm and settled it softly on a little girl's shoulder, like a broken-winged bird. Then she smiled up at him and he smiled down at her.
Life is made up of moments, and some of those moments are pure heaven, Ronnie says. But you need to look carefully for them because sometimes they happen in a crowded lunchroom and if you are always looking up, or down, or somewhere else distractedly, you just might miss them.
Fortunately, he adds, life is very generous with the portions of these that it dishes out — a veritable feast, whether you happen to be fasting or not.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.